The wind in the silver mining district always carried the bitter taste of rusted metal.

  Del sat in the jolting carriage, several heavy wooden crates loaded behind. He leaned in the corner of the compartment, swaying gently with the motion, eyes half-closed, his expression as cold and impassive as a temperature-less stone statue.

  “Chip, block external noise. Report constitution threshold,” he calmly summoned the cold will in his mind.

  Host current stats:

  Strength: 1.95

  Agility: 1.68

  Constitution: 1.82 (local meridian dulling due to alchemical buildup)

  Spirit: 2.35

  Unlock progress: Black Wind Sword Second Form ‘Black Sand Entwines the Body’—Countdown: 142 hours.

  “If the so-called ‘holy medicine’ can only provide this level of improvement, then this world’s pharmacological logic truly suffers from severe overflow waste,” Del assessed inwardly, feeling the viscous black energy in his dantian.

  The carriage passed the final checkpoint. The silver mine’s massive pit gaped like a giant maw torn in the earth, silently devouring the surrounding dim light. To Del, this was not the territory’s economic lifeline but a vast data field brimming with scattered energy.

  Deep in the pit, inside the command tent.

  Baron Garay stared at a bronze chest bound in layers of chains. The chains were sealed with dark red wax; faint dark-purple glimmers leaking from the seams filled the air with a cloying, sickly-sweet stench.

  Three steps behind him, Adjutant Kuhn maintained a perfect bow.

  Kuhn’s hands were hidden beneath his breastplate, nails digging deep into his palms. He had followed Garay for fifteen years—serving not only as his shadow but as the blunt knife Garay used to humiliate commoners and torment subordinates. Through grants of power and so-called “favors,” Garay had forged him into an obedient tool.

  But tools develop cracks, especially when those cracks are filled with jealousy and resentment.

  “Kuhn,” Garay said without turning, his voice heavy as muffled thunder, “have you taken the ‘Blood Seed’ that Torry sent?”

  “Yes, my lord. As you instructed, I have nurtured it with my battle-qi for seven days,” Kuhn replied, his voice flat, hoarse, and humble.

  “Good.” Garay’s lips twisted into a savage grin. “Once the essence in this ancient husk is drained, I’ll leave the dregs for you. If luck favors you, you’ll break through that damned bottleneck. If not… at least your corpse will be stronger than you are now.”

  Kuhn kept his head bowed, his pupils laced with fine bloodshot threads.

  “Thank you for your ‘care,’ my lord.” He repeated the word bitterly in his mind. The blood seed hidden in his chest radiated a twisted heat, as if mocking his lowly state.

  When Del entered the hall carrying a vial of dark-purple potion, he met Kuhn’s sinister gaze.

  “Young Master Del, this is no place for you.” Kuhn blocked him, polite in tone but with undisguised contempt in his eyes—the look one gives the dead.

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  Del stopped, showing no anger. He calmly observed Kuhn’s forehead, where the chip detected abnormal capillary dilation.

  “Adjutant Kuhn, your heart rate is twenty percent above normal, with mild pupil dilation,” Del said in a tone as casual as discussing the weather. “From a pharmacological perspective, your current state is ideal for a high-intensity, suicidal outburst—not for standing here chatting with me.”

  Kuhn’s expression shifted, then he sneered coldly. “Second Young Master, you should worry more about your own unsteady steps. These so-called tonics won’t save your life.”

  “Perhaps.” Del brushed past Kuhn and walked straight to Garay on the main seat.

  “Father, as you requested—this is the ‘enhanced’ potion with most side effects removed.” Del placed the vial on the table; the bottom clinked crisply against the stone.

  Garay turned, his oppressive eyes fixed on Del. He didn’t trust this son, but he trusted power. Casually grabbing the vial, he sensed the surging blood vitality within; some suspicion faded from his gaze.

  “A waste like you actually stumbled into making something like this.” Garay sneered. “When the ritual begins, stand behind me. If it fluctuates from insufficient energy, I’ll throw you straight onto the altar as fuel. Understood?”

  Del bowed slightly, silent.

  To him, the so-called “game” between Garay and Kuhn was like two monkeys fighting over territory on a powder keg. He needed no side—he only needed to wait for the spark.

  Night fell quietly. Ghostly blue torches were lit around the altar at the mine’s bottom.

  Over a hundred bound miners and maids were shoved to the altar’s edge. Maggie huddled among them; spotting Del in the distance, hope flickered in her eyes—only to be shattered by his ice-cold gaze.

  Del stood half a step behind Garay, the chip running at full speed, analyzing the energy spectrum from the bronze chest.

  “Alert: Non-biological logical energy detected. This ‘husk’ is not an energy source but a biological trap with strong parasitic properties. Capture success rate: evaluating.”

  Del inwardly quipped without emotion: “As expected—in this world, free lunches usually come laced with throat-sealing poison.”

  Garay approached the bronze chest, battle-qi surging wildly in his palms. He didn’t notice Kuhn at his side quietly gripping a hidden short dagger, its tip gleaming with a nauseating dark-green light.

  The air grew taut to the extreme—as if the slightest sound could collapse the entire mine bottom.

  The instant Garay touched the lid, ready to force it open—Kuhn struck.

  “Garay, I’ve lingered in your shadow far too long.” Kuhn’s voice was barely audible, laced with fifteen years of twisted fervor.

  Pfft.

  The dagger pierced precisely into Garay’s lower back—the sole dead point in a great knight’s battle-qi circulation. This intelligence was the fatal trump card Torry had provided Kuhn through family channels.

  “You—!” Garay roared in fury. Golden battle-qi erupted like a blazing sun, forcibly hurling Kuhn away.

  At the same moment, the mine bottom’s lights extinguished from the violent energy fluctuation, plunging into deathly darkness.

  In the pitch-black chaos where one couldn’t see their own hand, Del’s calm voice suddenly echoed through the hall:

  “Ladies and gentlemen, before this utterly graceless slaughter begins, I think you need a little… light.”

  Del flung a specially prepared orb upward with his left hand.

  It wasn’t ordinary flame but a high-purity magnesium-aluminum flash bomb Del had crafted from alchemical residues.

  Boom!

  A blinding, searing white light instantly flooded the entire mine bottom.

  “Ah!! My eyes!”

  Screams erupted instantly. Whether the gravely wounded Garay, Kuhn preparing his next assault, or the rebelling guards—all lost their vision in that moment.

  At the center of the blinding white light, Del slowly drew his cross-shaped sword from his waist. Unaffected by the flash, the chip’s visual compensation had already outlined everyone’s thermal silhouettes in his mind.

  “Chip, activate Black Wind Sword assist module.”

  “Task initiated. Countdown reduced to 15 minutes due to high-energy bloody environment. Recommendation: Clear low-efficiency targets before full unlock.”

  Del’s figure became a streak of black light, vanishing instantly into the cluster of screaming, eye-clutching guards.

  In this moment, he was the only one awake in the darkness.