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

Although opening dungeons is dangerous, Zhang Yangqing is not afraid of that at all.

Of course, this is just a bold guess.

If the savior is merely a local powerhouse, or if there's another explanation for "not belonging to this world," all speculations may fall apart.

But Zhang Yangqing is the chosen one of this style: making bold assumptions and planning ahead.

Consider all possibilities before danger actually strikes, rather than scrambling to analyze them when a crisis is imminent, as that often comes too late.

He pondered silently as he followed the silent group through the dimly lit, winding underground passage.

The oppressive atmosphere in the air grew heavier, and a faint, unsettling smell of decay began to mingle with the earthy odor.

On the rough rock walls on both sides of the passage, you can occasionally see some traces of artificial excavation and some arrows that can indicate the direction.

After walking for about ten minutes, the atmosphere ahead became even more oppressive.

At the end of the passage is a relatively spacious natural cave platform. At the edge of the platform, a huge, pitch-black cave entrance that seems to devour all light is clearly visible.

A distorted, ominous number “VII” was painted on the edge of the opening with some kind of dark red pigment.

A cold, damp current, carrying a strong sense of foreboding and death, was blowing continuously from the depths of the cave entrance, causing all the miners who approached to shiver.

This is the entrance to the seventh mining area.

On the rock walls near the cave entrance, more shocking traces can be seen: large patches of blood, splattered and already turned dark brown.

Several deep trenches, about an inch deep, resembled the furious scratches left by some giant creature.

There were even several relatively complete, pale skeletons belonging to unknown creatures, carelessly discarded in a corner, with obvious signs of gnawing and breakage on the bones.

When the foremen arrived, they clearly showed disgust and apprehension, and subconsciously moved a few steps away from the cave entrance.

The middle-aged foreman stood in a relatively safe position, his face expressionless, and simply waved his hand.

Immediately, guards brought over several old wooden crates and threw them in front of the miners with a few clatters.

"Take them yourselves! One set for each person! Don't dawdle!" The foreman's voice echoed impatiently in the empty cave.

The miners stepped forward silently and took their equipment from the wooden crates.

The equipment was very simple: a leather hat inlaid with small luminescent minerals, the light was dim and the range of illumination was limited, just like a miner's hat with a flashlight.

A well-worn but still sturdy pickaxe.

A palm-sized, heavy metal box with a few simple buttons and indicator lights on its surface.

This should be the so-called "space compression device". The technology does not seem to be advanced. It has a limited capacity and is noticeably heavy. Carrying it will consume extra physical strength.

Finally, each miner was also given a fist-sized, dark object wrapped in some kind of dried leaves.

Upon receiving it, a stench, a mixture of rancid, musty, and indescribable rotten meat odor, immediately assaulted the nostrils.

Peel it open a little, and inside is a "food lump" of suspicious color and sticky texture, made of various residues such as minced meat, grains, and unidentified plant roots and stems.

This was probably the rations the miners received while working in the mines, similar to extremely poor-quality compressed rations or military rations. Their only purpose was to provide a minimal amount of calories and energy. After receiving it, most of the miners would take a small bite or break it in half and swallow it with difficulty, their faces showing pain. But you could sense that their listless spirits had been slightly lifted.

No one dared to finish the food. Clearly, everyone understood that in such a place, it was necessary to reserve food for the possibility of prolonged hardship or unexpected events.

Zhang Yangqing followed suit and carefully took a small bite.

The thing tasted like chewing wax and was nauseating, but after swallowing it, a faint warmth did come from my stomach, dispelling some of the chill and weakness.

He forced himself to suppress his nausea and carefully put the rest away.

After the equipment and food were distributed, several guards stepped forward and, with a few clicks of their keys, unlocked the heavy shackles on the miners' wrists and ankles.

The moment the shackles came off, Zhang Yangqing clearly felt that the foreign object that had been subtly suppressing his body's strength in his mind suddenly weakened a lot!
The invisible shackles that had bound the soul and muscles were temporarily loosened.

He tried to slightly tense his arm muscles. Although there was still a feeling of stiffness, the chip was not completely disabled and may still have a limit or monitoring function. However, his sense of strength and control over his body were significantly improved!

He silently examined himself. This seemingly thin body had a density of muscle fibers, a toughness of bones, and a weak but exceptionally tenacious vitality contained in its internal organs that far exceeded that of ordinary humans!
There's even a subtle sense that it's a deliberately suppressed, untapped "treasure."

From the perspective of the cultivation world, this is simply an exceptional talent, born to be suited for body tempering or certain special paths! No wonder he could survive being tortured like this.

"It seems that the original owner of this body may have had some background, or it may simply be a special physique that humans in this world 'evolved' or 'selected' under extreme environments." Zhang Yangqing understood.

"Get in there, all of you! Three hours. Keep track of the time! If you don't mine the required amount of ore, or if you don't return on time, you know the consequences."

After the middle-aged foreman finished speaking, he glanced coldly at the countdown timers on the miners' wrists, which had started ticking again, the meaning of which was self-evident.

The miners dared not slack off. They put on their miner's lamps and hats, picked up their picks, and clipped their spatial boxes to their waists. As if going to their deaths, one after another they stepped into the dark, ominous Mine No. 7.

Zhang Yangqing mingled in the crowd. Before entering, he glanced at the old miner next to him, whose face was pale but whose eyes were much firmer than before, and nodded slightly.

The old miner also took a deep breath and followed closely beside Zhang Yangqing, the two forming a temporary alliance.

The moment I stepped into the mine, the light suddenly dimmed. Only the dim yellow glow of the headlamp above my head could barely illuminate a few meters ahead.

The air was thicker and colder, filled with years of accumulated dust and the distinctive smell of rocks. Underfoot was an uneven, sometimes slippery, gravel path. The cave walls were winding and branching, like a maze.

In the darkness in the distance, one could vaguely hear the sounds of dripping water, wind, and some barely audible, subtle rustling noises.

"Young man, stay close to me."

The old miner lowered his voice and led Zhang Yangqing to a relatively dry but seemingly narrower and deeper side passage.

“I’ve walked this path a few times before. It’s relatively ‘clean’ with fewer strange things, but you still have to be careful of what’s above and below you, as the rocks are loose in some places.”

He began to explain in a low voice some basic points for navigating the mine: how to identify relatively safe paths, and to observe the color of rocks, the growth of moss, and the direction of airflow.

How to avoid disturbing dangerous creatures that may be hiding in the shadows, and how to make a preliminary judgment on which rock layers may contain high-value minerals, such as color, luster, crystal structure, etc., are all very basic experiences.

These indigenous people don't know the rules; they rely on experience to make judgments, which is quite a good source of information.

Zhang Yangqing listened carefully while trying to control the body, which had just been partially freed from its restrictions, with greater freedom. (End of Chapter)