The entrance to the Meteor Mine looked like a rotting wound torn into the earth by some ancient, gargantuan beast. A permanent shroud of purple mineral toxic mist clung to the jagged rocks, refusing to dissipate even under the strongest mountain winds. The air here was heavy and suffocating, thick with a nauseating cocktail of sulfur, biting stone dust, and the cloying, metallic sweetness of decaying corpses. It was an atmosphere that promised only slow death to the weak and madness to the strong. Every breath felt like swallowing tiny shards of glass that coated the lungs in a layer of poisonous silt.

  Del stood at the threshold, his fingers gripping the worn leather strap of his meager belongings. Behind him, the two family retainers who had escorted him made their handover with such frantic haste they seemed to be fleeing from a plague. They didn't even offer a polite farewell; as soon as the iron gate creaked open, they turned their horses and vanished into the mountain fog. Without a backward glance, Del stepped into this lawless abyss.

  Most of the structures here were carved directly into the dark, damp mountainside—crude rock caves reinforced with rusted iron bars and rotting timber. Under the rhythmic, bone-chilling crack of heavy leather whips, countless mine slaves hauled heavy crates of ore to the surface. Their clothes were reduced to grey rags, and their eyes were hollow shells of despair, reflecting no light. The rocks they carried shimmered with an eerie, rhythmic phosphorescence, pulsing like the heartbeat of a dying demon, casting ghostly violet shadows against the wet cavern walls.

  "Del... of House Galley? The stray dog whose foundations were shattered in that noble explosion?" A sharp, shrill voice, dripping with pure mockery, echoed through the gloom of the reception hall.

  Seated upon a massive stone throne draped in thick, matted bear fur at the center of the hall was a woman who looked like a decaying ghost from another world. She wore a deep crimson court dress made of fine silk, but the environment had not been kind to it. Due to the persistent dampness of the subterranean world, a thick ring of pale grey mold had begun to bloom along the hem of her skirt. Despite this visible sign of ruin, she held her head high with stubborn, pathetic arrogance. In her hand, she rhythmically flicked a folding fan painted with the golden landscapes of the Imperial Capital—a place she would likely never see again.

  She was Vivian, the daughter of the old Mine Governor, Simon. Once a distant relative of a fallen Viscount, she had been "exiled" to this sunless pit as a living payment for her family’s insurmountable debts. To her, every person who arrived from the outside world was a reminder of the luxury she had lost.

  "Lady Vivian," Del murmured, giving a slight, controlled bow. His face was so pale it appeared almost translucent under the flickering torchlight, making him look like a frail invalid who might draw his last breath at any moment. His breathing was shallow, his posture slumped, perfectly hiding the cold, calculating mind buried beneath the skin.

  "Don't look at me with those disgusting, pitying eyes! Do you think this is some grand ballroom in the Iron Thorn Castle?" Vivian snapped her fan shut with a sharp, echoing crack. "My father is currently busy in the lower levels, trying to suppress those cursed 'Mana-Eaters' that keep breaking through the barriers. He has no time for a discarded waste like you. You are a fallen noble, a man without a core. You had better pray to whatever silent gods you follow that you survive the first ore eruption cycle. If you die in your sleep, I refuse to waste even a single pit space to bury a jinxed failure of your sort. I'll have the slaves toss you into the smelting furnace to save on charcoal."

  She cursed the stinking air of the mine in one breath, claiming it ruined her skin, while complaining in the next that her favorite lavender perfumes from the Capital had been out of stock for three agonizing months. She talked of tea parties and silk ribbons while surrounded by the scent of death and sulfur. This mixture of feigned independence and deep-seated bitterness made Del feel a flicker of dark amusement. She was a bird in a rusty cage, complaining that the bars weren't polished enough.

  "In that case, Lady Vivian, please arrange a quiet room for me near the ventilation shafts," Del spoke calmly, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "I need to prepare certain medicinal tonics to stabilize my broken constitution. Master Ian specifically entrusted me with these recipes to ensure I don't die prematurely and embarrass the family further."

  "Using that old wizard to pressure me?" Vivian huffed, her eyes narrowing with a flash of genuine anger. Nevertheless, she reached into a drawer and tossed a rusted, heavy iron key onto the cold stone floor. "Fine. Get lost to the 'Dead Man's Pit' in the North District. It’s quiet enough there—provided you aren't afraid of the ghosts and half-mutated rats that crawl out of the walls at midnight. If you disappear, don't expect a search party."

  Del picked up the key, felt its rough texture, and traversed the long, narrow rock tunnels. He passed by lines of silent miners, their footsteps sounding like the ticking of a slow clock. Finally, he reached his quarters—a hollowed-out rock cavern where the walls still bore the jagged, violent scars of old pickaxes. The air was thin, but the proximity to the ventilation shaft provided a constant, whistling draft. He closed the heavy iron door, slid the bolt home, and lit a low-quality fish-oil lamp that produced more soot than light.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  'Chip, take over environmental monitoring. Scan for hidden surveillance and enable Deep Analysis Mode,' he commanded in the silence of his mind.

  [Command Confirmed. Scanning... No active magic circles or mechanical eyes detected. Current Environment: High-concentration purple mineral toxins detected. Warning: Radiation levels are 400% above human safety limits. Detection: The 'Siphon Vortex' in the host's abdomen has increased in activity by 15% due to environmental stimulation.]

  Del sat on the freezing stone bed, his legs crossing in a meditative pose. He reached into the secret compartment of his medicine chest and pulled out several glass vials. To any observer, these were merely his enhanced Aphrodisiacs—oils and powders meant for the hedonistic nights of the nobility. Indeed, they were labeled as "Male Enhancement Elixirs."

  However, within the logic of his secret alchemy, these were high-concentration Performance Boosters. They were designed to stimulate blood flow to an extreme degree, forcing open the body's hidden pathways and dilating micro-vessels that had been dormant for years. They weren't meant for the bedroom; they were meant to ignite the engine of his broken body.

  "If I combine these Vitality Boosters with the concentrated bone energy I absorbed from the altar... I can create a temporary alchemical bridge," Del whispered to the shadows.

  [Logic Simulation: Aphrodisiac Formula (Activated): Can forcibly dilate 'pseudo-meridian' channels through hyper-stimulated blood pressure. Bone Energy (Death Trait): Possesses extreme erosion and assimilation properties. Conclusion: The combination will create an 'Alchemical Furnace' effect within the Dantian. This will increase the chip’s processing power and accelerate the analysis of the Black Wind Sword’s third move: 【Bone Whisper】.]

  "That is not all," Del’s eyes flashed with a cold light. "I need more active mediums. Vivian mentioned the 'Mana-Eaters.' Those aren't just monsters; they are creatures that have lived in this radiation for generations. Their 'Magic Cores' must be packed with the purest form of this mineral energy. They are the perfect catalysts for my evolution."

  A sudden, heavy thud sounded at the door half an hour later. The iron door groaned as it was pushed open by a weathered mine foreman. He was a tall, scarred man who looked like he had survived a dozen cave-ins.

  "Master Del, Lady Vivian has shown 'great mercy' by granting you this. She said she doesn't want a Galley dying on her floor today," the foreman grunted, tossing a strange, jet-black plant onto the stone table. The plant had no leaves, only a thick, thorny stem and a bud at the top that looked like a closed, weeping eye.

  "Heart-Rot Grass?" Del’s eyes brightened. In the outside world, this was a deadly poison used by assassins to stop a heart in seconds. It fed on the essence of the dead and grew only in the shadows of execution grounds. But in the logic of the Black Sand Buddha, this was an exquisite energy lubricant, a bridge between the physical and the spiritual.

  "My thanks to Lady Vivian. Tell her I appreciate her... kindness," Del said, tossing a silver coin to the foreman. The man caught it in the air, his eyes widening slightly at the weight of the coin. He gave a short, respectful nod and vanished back into the dark corridor.

  Once the door was locked again, Del wasted no time. He dropped the Heart-Rot Grass into a small alchemical flask, adding the refined residues of the bone energy and exactly three drops of his Vigor-Enhancing tonic. As the heat from the fish-oil lamp touched the glass, a thick, swirling purple mist began to rise.

  [Data Entry: New plant active sample acquired. Syncing with internal database... Analyzing 'Death Aura' patterns. Current Progress:

  - Black Wind Sword - Messy Sky: 100% (Optimized)

  - Black Wind Sword - Death Piercing: 100% (Optimized)

  - Black Wind Sword - Bone Whisper: 28% -> 45% (Explosive Increase due to catalyst)

  - 【Black Buddha Origin】: 12.5% (Internal meridians beginning to stabilize)]

  "How long until the 'Black Buddha Origin' is fully analyzed at this rate?" Del asked, his voice low and hungry.

  [Calculation based on current environmental energy levels:

  - Scenario A: Natural siphoning of mine radiation: 3,240 days.

  - Scenario B: Continuous use of 'Heart-Rot Grass' and Aphrodisiac catalysts: 480 days.

  - Scenario C: Acquisition of the core mineral 'Obsidian Gold' from the restricted zone: Estimated 15 days.]

  "Fifteen days..." Del whispered, his gaze turning toward the ground beneath his feet. Far below, in the deepest, darkest pits where the slaves died in droves and the Mana-Eaters roamed free, lay the Obsidian Gold. Vivian had called it a restricted zone, a place of no return. But to him, that hellish depth was the only place on this continent that could serve as a forge for his new soul.

  From the adjacent cavern, the muffled sounds of Vivian’s sharp-tongued scolding continued. She was yelling at her maid because the water for her bath wasn't exactly at the temperature of a summer spring in the Capital. She was trapped in the past, a ghost clinging to a crimson dress.

  Del extinguished the lamp. In the absolute, crushing darkness of the North District, the black vortex within his abdomen began to spin with predatory speed. It devoured the energy from the Heart-Rot Grass and the Male Power elixir, turning the poisonous radiation of the mine into raw, dark power.

  The embers of the bone energy began to recombine within his shattered Dantian. Bit by bit, they wove a new set of pathways—dark, resilient, and utterly alien to the Western Combat Qi system. It was a path belonging to the Eastern Evil Buddha: cold, profound, and filled with an overbearing, unstoppable will to erase.

  "Lady Vivian, I truly thank you for this medicine," Del whispered into the dark.