A spark of hope had ignited in Chen Ping’s heart, yet it could not immediately dispel the cold that had taken root in his body.

The days following the planting of the Purifying Grass seeds were not as easy as he had hoped.

He had overestimated himself.

The deterioration of his body was faster and more severe than he had anticipated.

The places that once held a dull ache now throbbed with a persistent, deep-seated pain that seemed to reach his very marrow.

Every time he swung the pickaxe, the muscles in his arms screamed in protest. Every time he bent to move ore, his spine groaned under the strain.

The erosion of the Ore Toxin was like invisible termites, gnawing away at the little vitality he had painstakingly nurtured with Spirit Rice and Wild Boar meat.

He still entered the Jade Pendant space daily, his gaze fixed intently on those three patches of freshly turned Black Earth.

The faint green sprout from the first seed had broken through the earth and was growing tenaciously. Though slow, it was indeed changing.

Beside it, two other tiny shoots had also pushed their way out.

This sight should have brought him immense comfort, yet the heavy burden of his physical reality hung over him like a dark cloud.

He had to conserve every ounce of strength.

His previously unshakable routine of five sets of the Vitality Technique daily gradually dwindled.

Four sets… three sets…

By the end of the month, dragging his nearly broken body back to the shack, even completing two sets was an immense struggle.

Sweat no longer poured out freely during practice; instead, it seeped out as if from exhaustion, carrying a weak, feeble aura.

After finishing two sets, darkness clouded his vision, and tightness seized his chest. He wanted only to lie down immediately.

So sleepy. So tired. So utterly exhausted.

The main reason was that his physical foundation was simply too weak.

Most ordinary long-term miners were physically robust. They could endure the erosion of Ore Toxin for two or three months. Once they saved enough Spirit Stones to buy Purifying Grass for detoxification, they could continue their low-key struggle for survival.

But Chen Ping was different.

The first month, he could still hold on. He even thought he could make it through the second month as well.

Little did he know that upon entering the second month, the collapse of his body would suddenly accelerate.

The rate at which his Physical Strength declined filled him with silent dread.

Mining became exceptionally difficult. The task of extracting one hundred pounds of raw ore became an almost insurmountable mountain.

His movements were sluggish, his efficiency low. He often needed nearly twice as much time as others just to barely gather enough weight.

The heavy ore basket pressed down on his shoulders, bending him over so he couldn’t straighten up. Each step felt like treading on cotton.

Coughing became a new and more painful torment for him.

At first, it was just a dry cough. Then it started carrying phlegm. Later, that phlegm began to be streaked with shocking red threads.

Each violent cough shook him with pain that felt like his internal organs were shifting. After coughing, a metallic, bloody sweetness would spread in his mouth.

He secretly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with a ragged cloth, not daring to let anyone see.

His figure visibly wasted away at a rapid pace.

His cheeks sank deeply inward, cheekbones protruding sharply. His once sturdy arms and legs became as thin and dry as sticks.

His skin lost its luster and elasticity, taking on a sickly waxen yellow hue. And this yellow grew deeper and deeper, as if his entire being had been soaked through and stained by the dust of the mine shaft.

He looked like a consumptive ghost on death’s door, barely clinging to life.

This appearance naturally caught the eye of those who were watching for such things.

On the second day of the third month, Chen Ping was struggling to drag his heavy ore basket toward the handover point.

From afar, he saw Fatty Wang’s rotund figure standing next to the mining area Manager. The two were conversing in low voices.

Fatty Wang’s gaze swept intentionally or unintentionally in Chen Ping’s direction, a barely perceptible sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.

Chen Ping’s heart sank heavily into his stomach.

Sure enough, when he handed over his ore for weighing, the Manager gave him a cold glance devoid of any warmth whatsoever.

“Chen Ping,” he said flatly. “Last month you only completed eighty percent of your quota. This month, if you fail to meet your quota again… according to regulations… we’ll have no choice but to ask you to leave the sect.”

The Manager’s tone was indifferent, as if stating some trivial matter of no consequence.

Chen Ping felt a surge of blood rush straight to his head. His teeth ground together audibly; fingernails dug deep into his palms.

He knew this was undoubtedly Fatty Wang’s “handiwork” behind the scenes.

Expelled from the sect?

That was tantamount to a direct death sentence!

Not only would he not survive himself, but any hope of rescuing his parents, still trapped far away in that mining area, would be utterly extinguished.

Hatred instantly consumed his mind.

Yet there was nothing he could say. He could only lower his head and endure.

The next day, Fatty Wang indeed “coincidentally” appeared at the entrance of Chen Ping’s dilapidated shack.

He blocked the doorway, his massive frame almost shutting out all light. A false smile was plastered on his face; greed and calculation flickered in his small eyes.

“Tsk tsk tsk… Brother Chen,” Fatty Wang shook his head with feigned concern. “How did you end up looking like such a ghost?”

“This mine shaft is truly no place for humans… look what it’s done to you.”

Leaning against the cold earthen wall, Chen Ping just stared at him coldly without uttering a word.

Seeing no response, Fatty Wang wasn’t bothered. He sauntered inside, disdainfully kicking aside scattered gravel on the ground with his toe, before lowering his voice and getting straight to business.

“Brother… I’ve been very curious since last time.” His voice dropped conspiratorially. “Back when you were on Servant Peak, you were weak as a chick… how did you suddenly toughen up later? Your Physical Strength shot up so fast…”

He leaned closer, his breath heavy with body odor washing over Chen Ping’s face.

“Tell me… did you get some treasure? Or have some special encounter?”

“Just tell your big brother this secret…” Fatty Wang leaned in another step closer. “And I guarantee I’ll get you transferred out of this hellhole immediately! Arrange some easy, safe job for you! Spirit Stones? You won’t lack them! Follow me from now on, live well—isn’t that better than waiting here for death?”

He paused briefly before adding magnanimously:

“Even being an obedient dog by my side would be a hundred times better than what you are now… wouldn’t it?”

Chen Ping abruptly raised his head sharply upward—those eyes, made larger by emaciation, blazing with suppressed fury pushed beyond its limit!

He stared fixedly at Fatty Wang’s greasy face, his jaw clenched tight.

In the end, though—he didn’t speak a single word.

Fatty Wang grew somewhat uncomfortable under that stare, his fake smile slipping away entirely now.

After waiting half-heartedly for a moment longer while Chen Ping remained silent as stone, Fatty Wang’s fleshy jowls trembled slightly before he spat out angrily:

“Pah! Ungrateful wretch! Can’t appreciate kindness when offered!”

Turning around abruptly toward the exit, he stopped short at the doorway then turned back, glaring viciously at Chen Ping, his voice dripping with naked threat.

“Fine! You’ve got guts! Think your bones are hard, huh?! Let’s see how long they stay hard!”

“Next month—if you fail your task again—I’ll personally watch the Manager throw you out of the sect like a dead dog!”

“When the time comes—even if you kneel down and lick the soles off my shoes—I won’t spare a glance your way again!”

“You can take your pitiful little secret back to the Mortal world and wait to die there!”

Cursing loudly all the way out, Fatty Wang left, leaving only the sound of Chen Ping’s heavy, labored breathing echoing within the shack.

Slowly lowering his head down again, Chen Ping looked at his own sallow hands with prominent knuckles trembling slightly.

His chest heaved violently. A mouthful of bloody, sweet liquid surged up his throat before being forcibly swallowed back down.

Confrontation? Fight?

Chen Ping knew clearly that rushing out right now would result in nothing but being easily beaten to death or crippled by Fatty Wang.

No other outcome was possible.

All he could do was endure.

He would bury this bone-deep hatred deep within his heart, like a seed planted far beneath the surface.