A swarm of heavy artillery bombarded the cultivators

Demon Stone World, Zhenshan Sect.

In the dark mine cave, the seventh-level Qi training monk Zhuzi was chiseling a second-level purple stone ore the size of a head.

He held a hammer and a chisel in each hand, and blood-colored magic power emerged from his meridians, chiseling off gray-white ore skins.

He didn't know that with each fall of the stone-chiseling magic tool, his life span and blood essence would flow away imperceptibly, pouring into the purple stone ore, completing a process similar to sacrifice, and improving the essence of this ore as much as possible.

Zhuzi's stone-chiseling lasted for several hours.

Ding!

With a crisp sound, a thumb-sized gem emerged from it, faintly with blood and emitting light.

This is the finished purple jade stone.

"It's out. Brother Zhuzi is half an hour early today."

There were also dozens of human Qi training monks busy around, and some showed envious looks.

"Brother Zhuzi has been doing this for fifteen years, right?"

"Work for another five years, and you can go home to marry a wife and have children. Marry her thirty-six wives in a row, and you will be happy and joyful! From now on, Brother Zhuzi will enjoy happiness..."

"There is still work to do, to pick talisman grass. We are destined to be busy, and we are not the old master of the sect, who can only rest after closing his eyes because he is afraid of death..."

"That's right, picking talisman grass is not something you can do casually, how can it be compared with mining..."

The surrounding Qigong monks chatted and talked about it in the clanging sound of chiseling stones. Many people seemed to have recovered some strength in such chats, and generated more blood and strength.

"It's still early."

Zhuzi showed a simple and honest look.

He carefully put away the purple jade stone, looked at the people around him with a little vigilance, and took him to the sect's main hall.

The sect strictly prohibits fighting within the same clan, and violators will be executed. There are very few people who rob others' ore.

But even if there are very few, there are still some.

Zhuzi had heard that someone had robbed it, and in the end the robber was punished, but the miner also died, which was really sad.

Zhuzi passed through various mines and walked to the entrance of the cave, passing some spiritual fields, spiritual medicine gardens and the like.

He met many monks on the road, both men and women, some of whom were descendants of elders.

But all of them were the same, all working, some were tending spiritual medicine, some were fiddling with spiritual fish, and some were turning the soil. People on the road were also rushing back and forth, and no one was idle.

‘The descendants of the foundation-building elders are good...’

Zhuzi looked at the spiritual farmers tending spiritual medicine in the spiritual medicine garden with envy, and when he saw the other party looking at him, he lowered his head quickly.

These spiritual farmers are much better than their miners.

Most of the miners will die before the age of forty, leaving only a very small number of gifted people who survive and marry and have children.

He was like this before, his body was weak and dazed, and he thought he was going to die.

Fortunately, he finally survived.

The descendants of these foundation-building elders are different. Not only do they not have to stay in the mine every day, but they live under the sun. Not only do they have an easy life, but everyone can live to at least 60 years old, and some people are over 60 years old.

Compared with them, miners are in heaven and earth.

The pillars twisted and turned, and finally came to the sect hall.

It is called the sect hall, but it is actually a half-mountain cave rebuilt from a mine. The bluestone is flat and decorated with some worthless night pearls.

In Beiyuan, I am afraid that the martial arts sects would not disdain to use this kind of regulations as the ancestral hall.

‘The oppression and plunder of the Demon Rock Clan is really the limit...’

Jiang Ding retracted a ray of consciousness in the soul virtual world, silently watched this sect, and evaluated the survival status of the human race in this world.

In fact, according to his habit, he should choose a place where no one is to bury himself.

This way, there is no cause and effect, no contact with people, this is the safest way.

However, Shadow Demon Abyss's soul-hiding and divine art has its own particularity. With the help of the souls of mortals or cultivators, the breath can be more concealed. Even if the upper-level cultivators come to scan with their divine sense, they may not be able to find it.

This is the crystallization of Shadow Demon Abyss's immortal wisdom on concealment and lurking.

Objectively speaking, the wild and crowded places are the same for extremely high-level cultivators. There is no place that is more hidden, even if buried in the soil.

There is another advantage of crowded places. The souls and breaths are messy and varied, which is an advantage for lurking.

Zhuzi looked at the sect hall inlaid with night pearls with awe, and walked into it step by step. After seeing the two old men inside, he became more nervous, bowed respectfully, and said: "Uncle Master, I come to hand in the purple jade stone of that day."

"Good."

One of the gray-robed old men sitting cross-legged nodded slightly, and said nothing more.

Zhuzi did not dare to disturb, put down the purple jade stone, and retreated carefully.

After he left, the gray-robed old man waved his hand to take the purple jade stone, placed it on a large stone bottle not far away, and took out a bamboo slip, and recorded nine points of merit on the "pillar 279".

"Nine points?"

A blue-robed foundation-building cultivator on the side was slightly surprised and said: "According to convention, shouldn't it be five points of merit? The sect takes one point, and the higher-ups divide one or two, and finally you and I each get one point."

"Does this kid have a history with you?"

"Or do you feel compassion for him? It's useless. This kind of mining slave disciple has practiced the "Burning Blood Spirit Method" and has reached the seventh level of Qi training at a young age. It's the limit to live past fifty years old. There's really no need to waste anything."

"It's better to let the spirit stone stay and train for us. As our strength becomes stronger, the sect's strength will also become stronger."

Knowing that his old friend was kind-hearted, he advised.

"No."

Gray-robed Zhuji sighed softly.

"This is the order of the sect master."

"The mining slave disciples below have been squeezed too hard recently and are almost reaching their limit. They must relax a little, otherwise they may have a will to die."

"The mine slaves died in large numbers. If we can't hand over the ore, they will die."

"Always... give them a little hope from time to time."

The blue-robed Zhuji remained silent.

"They have hope...what about our hope?"

he asked.

"We are also practicing the "Blood-Burning Spiritual Technique". We practice much faster. Even if we build a foundation, our lifespan will only last a hundred years, and we will not be idle every day."

"I do not know."

Gray-robed Zhuji shook his head.

"It would be great if I could become the sect master's direct disciple."

The two of them were silent for a moment, each took out a piece of ore, and carved it with a jingle of hammers and chisels. They used special techniques to peel off the ore skin, and at the same time infiltrated their own mana and blood into it, refining it to improve the quality of the ore.

This is a higher-quality ore that requires foundation-building monks to carve and refine, and no one else can do it for you.

"The sect master's personal disciple..."

The two people didn't know that at the top of the mountain, an old man with white temples and wrinkles was also tapping a piece of third-level ore, using his magic power and his own life and blood. After hearing their words, Smile to yourself.

"What is the disciple of the sect master?"

"The sect master is also a mine slave."

Master Jianshi looked at the hammer and chisel in his hand, these two treasures that had been with him for more than two hundred years.

He was in a daze for a long time.

Subsequently,

Ding ding ding ding…

The sound of chiselling stones that lasted for who knows how many years sounded again, numb and stiff.

I don’t know how long this sound will last.

Because even this kind of life cannot continue. Other powerful tribes covet this place, even if it is so barren.

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