I am a full-level celestial master, you let me enter the strange talk of rules?

If you were to harden your heart and kill a fellow human being who is still begging for help, it would be a cruel test of humanity for an ordinary chosen one who is not a cold-blooded butcher.

Jones was caught in a mental struggle that went at the speed of light:

A ruthless mind screams: Jones! Wake up! You are the chosen one! You bear the fate of the Kangaroo Kingdom! You cannot be soft-hearted! Mercy to the enemy is cruelty to yourself!
Those chosen ones who survived to the end, weren't they all decisive in their killings, even ruthless when necessary? Think of Zhang Yangqing—no, that monster doesn't count, think of all the other famous survivors! Hesitation means defeat!

A kind-hearted thought whispered: But what if saving him would actually be beneficial? Zhang Tianshi. Right, Zhang Tianshi seems to have mentioned in some of his previous analysis videos that the world of ghost stories often has "danger and opportunity coexisting," and that life may be hidden in the most unlikely places.

This old miner has been here for who knows how long; the information he has about this 'Endless Deep Realm' in his mind is probably priceless!
Killing him would only provide temporary safety; saving him might offer crucial guidance! Besides, this is a world of supernatural tales; if there were no way to save him, this situation certainly wouldn't have occurred. This means there is hope!
Just as Jones was torn between his inner conflict and the throes of the decision, his forehead veins bulging, suffering from both a headache and the agony of the choice.

On the live broadcast screen in China, Zhang Yangqing's response and thinking had entered another level, and the speed of his intelligence gathering and analysis was terrifying.

Zhang Yangqing calmly looked at the old miner in front of him who was grabbing him and breathing erratically.

He could clearly feel the hand gripping his shoulder increasing its strength at an extremely slow but undeniable pace.

A slight stinging sensation came from the tip of my nail.

“The strength is increasing, albeit slowly. What does that mean?” Zhang Yangqing keenly noticed this detail.

He quickly connected the "foreign object" implanted in his brain to what Zhang Yangqing tentatively identified as a control chip.

Logically speaking, one of the most likely reasons for implanting such chips into miners' bodies is to limit their power during non-working hours, such as during their 'rest' time.

They might even be suppressed from engaging in any form of clandestine practice or training.

Historical experience suggests that it is possible that a certain veteran miner secretly cultivated during his rest time, accumulated strength, and eventually escaped successfully, even causing considerable damage to the mine.

This is the escalation measure that those who maintain order will inevitably take after the order has been disrupted.

This increases the difficulty for newcomers, thus eliminating the possibility of resistance at its source.

Zhang Yangqing strongly suspected that the senior who successfully escaped and caused damage was the beautiful woman with peach blossom eyes he met in the Undying Mountain!
Of course, this is currently just a reasonable speculation based on existing information and lacks direct evidence.

But Zhang Yangqing's thinking did not stop there.

This seemingly subtle increase in power made him think deeper: since the chip was meant to control the miners and limit their power, then the old miner's power was now increasing uncontrollably, even if it was due to mutation.

Why didn't the chip work immediately, such as causing a more severe headache or even paralyzing him? Did the chip malfunction? Or...?
A bold hypothesis has emerged: the target users of the chip may very well be limited to 'humans' or 'miners in normal circumstances'!
For entities that have begun to mutate, are dominated by internal contamination, and tend to become 'weird' or 'semi-weird', the chip's control effect will be greatly reduced, or even fail!

Of course, the most direct way is to remove the chip from the brain, but opening one's own skull is something only the chosen ones would do if they weren't insane.

Just thinking about this point might be a key breakthrough in finding a way to escape from prison in the future! A sharp glint flashed in Zhang Yangqing's eyes. Who would want to be a miner in this godforsaken place for the rest of their life?
Finding a way to break free from control is crucial.

This possibility, derived from the details, is probably only something someone of Zhang Yangqing's caliber could come up with in a flash.

What may seem like a difference in a single detail could, in the course of subsequent exploration, become a world of difference between life and death, slavery and freedom!
For Zhang Yangqing, the question now is no longer simply a matter of choosing between "killing him" and "saving him."

His thinking had jumped to a higher level: how to use this mutating sample in front of him to conduct a controlled experiment?

How can we guide or control this mutation to create a state that is semi-psychic but not completely irrational, and can circumvent chip control to some extent?
If this problem can be solved, then leaving this 'cell' will be a piece of cake.

In his eyes, the old miner had transformed from a threat or a target for rescue into a highly valuable experimental subject for research.

With this in mind, Zhang Yangqing had already made a preliminary plan.

He met the old miner's still clear, pleading eyes, softened his tone, and spoke in a convincingly calm voice: "Don't worry, I'll help you. But you have to tell me what you ate before. Show me."

His words seemed to carry a strange, calming power, causing the old miner's chaotic state to pause slightly.

The old miner's hoarse breathing subsided, and a fierce will to survive erupted in his still-sane eyes.

He turned his neck with difficulty and extreme slowness, pointing with trembling fingers to the corner where he had been lying and resting.

He has clearly 'mutated' to the point that he can no longer produce a complete voice.

Zhang Yangqing looked in the direction he pointed, but there were only dirty pebbles and slippery moss there. The light was too dim to see clearly.

"Okay, leave it to me. I'll go check it out." Zhang Yangqing gently patted the old miner's hand, which was still gripping his shoulder but whose strength seemed to have lessened slightly with hope, and made a reliable promise in a solemn tone.

Perhaps it was this solemn attitude, or perhaps it was the faint psychological support brought by the words "Leave it to me," but the remaining human will within the old miner seemed to temporarily overcome the madness of pollution. He slowly loosened his grip on Zhang Yangqing's hand, and it fell limply to the ground.

Zhang Yangqing then carefully and extremely slowly moved his body toward the corner the old miner had pointed out.

He dared not exert any force, controlling the slightest muscle exertion with every step, fearing that even a slightly larger movement would stimulate the chip in his mind, causing unnecessary pain and trouble.

In other words, just by walking these few steps, one can see the difference between the chosen ones. Zhang Yangqing is walking like a weak, ordinary person, while the other chosen ones are dancing on the edge of a knife, as if walking on thin ice.

The chains made a slight, restrained creaking sound with his slow movements, which was still remarkably clear in the deathly silent cell.

Zhang Yangqing's goal was to find the source of the pollution, which also marked his first step in this endless abyss. (End of Chapter)