Rise of the Wang Clan: Starting with a Portable Farm

Chapter 199: Refining Puppet Beasts

In the early years, the Wang Clan was destitute. Cultivators had to scatter to the four winds just to earn a few Spirit Stones. But since Wang Hao’s rise, the clan’s finances had stabilized. Now, they were short on manpower, not money.

The two elders stared at the raw ore, eyes burning with greed. The decision to annihilate the Tang family felt more righteous by the second. In the cultivation world, weakness was the original sin. Demonic Cultivators were reviled, yet the powerful ones roamed free. Why? Because they were strong.

The Tang family’s only crime was possessing a treasure they couldn’t protect.

After the initial euphoria faded, Wang Hao spoke up. “Our problem now is extraction. We can’t flood this place with cultivators without raising suspicion. And if we use an army of mortals, the supply lines will be too visible. Sooner or later, someone will notice.”

The Tang family was a cautionary tale. If the Qingyuan Sect or a stronger rival discovered this mine, the Wang Clan would face extinction.

Wang Yanzhao’s excitement dampened. “True. Too few people, and the yield is worthless. Too many, and we expose ourselves.”

Wang Longyou smiled, turning his gaze to Wang Hao. “The solution is standing right here.”

“Me?” Wang Hao blinked. “Sure, my Qi reserves are deep, but you can’t seriously expect a Foundation Establishment cultivator to dig rocks all day.”

He shook his head, laughing bitterly. He had a hundred ways to earn Spirit Stones; manual labor was not on the list.

“You misunderstand,” Wang Longyou chuckled. “I’m talking about your puppetry. We don’t need cultivators or mortals. We use puppets. An automated workforce requires only a handful of overseers.”

Wang Hao paused. Of course.

Puppets were tireless, stronger than Qi Refining cultivators, and obedient. An Ape Puppet, with its dexterous hands and immense strength, was the perfect miner.

A single Qi Refining cultivator could mentally command up to five puppets. With just ten overseers, the clan could achieve the output of fifty laborers, working twenty-four hours a day without rest or food.

“But… mass-producing that many puppets would take me years,” Wang Hao frowned. “Mining requires durability and strength. I don’t have many heavy-duty models left; I gave most of them to the juniors.”

Puppetry was a complex art, far more tedious than forging a sword. It involved material selection, curing, carving, rune inscription, assembly, and finally, soul infusion.

The bottleneck wasn’t the assembly; it was the prep work. You couldn’t build a sturdy puppet from green wood. The timber needed to be cut and air-dried for a year or two to prevent warping. Even with Wang Hao’s Farm producing Yin Purple Pine, the processing time was a hard limit.

If he hadn’t stockpiled materials from the Huang family and the Pill Cauldron Sect years ago, he would be starting from zero.

“There is no rush,” Wang Longyou assured him. “We can scale up slowly. We need to wait for the heat from the Tang family’s disappearance to die down anyway. In the meantime, select some talented juniors and train them. Let them handle the grunt work.”

“I suppose that’s the only way,” Wang Hao sighed. He didn’t want to be a factory foreman, but he was the only one qualified.

He would have to rely on his three existing apprentices. Currently, they could only craft Tier 1 Middle-Grade puppets—too weak for efficient mining. He needed them to hit Tier 1 High-Grade or even Tier 2 Low-Grade.

Tier 2 puppets were too expensive to risk in a mine. Tier 1 High-Grade was the sweet spot: cost-effective and durable.

Wang Hao decided to put the apprentices through a boot camp. Even if they couldn’t build a full puppet, they could process raw materials and craft components, freeing him to focus on the core arrays.

The three elders inspected the cavern one last time. They sealed the obvious entrances with earth techniques and deployed a high-grade Concealment Formation.

“Let’s head back,” Wang Yanzhao said. “We need to source materials and select personnel. We’ll open the mine officially in six months.”

He handed several bottles of pills to Wang Wenjiang’s team. “You three hold the fort. Report any anomalies immediately. Here are Yellow Dragon Pills and Inedia Pills—enough for a year. The clan will not forget your service.”

“Yes, Patriarch!” The three bowed deeply.

Guarding a Spirit Stone mine was a plum assignment. The Qi density here was higher than the clan’s best secluded cultivation chambers, and the pills were worth two years of salary. They would have been fools to refuse.

Time flowed like water. Six months passed in a blink.

Wang Family Estate. The Workshop.

In a bright, spacious room, Wang Hao was assembling a Tier 1 High-Grade puppet. Across from him, three apprentices watched with unblinking focus, terrified of missing a single detail.

Wang Hao had locked them in here for half a year with a simple promise: The first one to craft a Tier 1 High-Grade puppet gets a Foundation Establishment Pill.

The incentive worked. Their skills hadn’t exactly skyrocketed, but they had improved faster than ever before.

The apprentices were Wang Wenshui, Wang Wencai, and Wang Yanrong.

Wang Wencai was the frontrunner. His success rate for Middle-Grade puppets was over 50%, and he was already attempting High-Grade assemblies. The other two were lagging, with success rates below 30%—burning through materials faster than they produced results.

The clan had poured thousands of Spirit Stones into their training. The “Hundred Arts of Cultivation” were expensive to learn, and puppetry was a money pit compared to alchemy or forging.

But teaching had sharpened Wang Hao’s own skills. He could now reliably craft Tier 2 Low-Grade puppets. With sufficient materials, he could churn one out every ten days.

Wang Hao slotted a beast soul into the core of the wooden chassis. The Ape Puppet shuddered, its limbs flexing with hydraulic power.

“Done,” Wang Hao announced, turning to his students. “Did you see the rune alignment? Any questions?”

The apprentices peppered him with queries. Wang Hao answered patiently, even disassembling parts of the puppet to demonstrate key techniques again.

Their talent was mediocre. Without this level of hand-holding, they would never learn.

If only the clan had ten thousand members, Wang Hao thought wearily. We might have found a genius or two.

By nightfall, Wang Hao was mentally exhausted. Teaching was harder than fighting.

“That’s enough for today,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Practice what you saw. Theory is useless without muscle memory. The clan has provided the materials; do not waste them.”

“Yes, Elder! We will work hard!”

They were a bit slow, but their attitude was good. Wang Hao shook his head and left the workshop, leaving them to their drills.