173: Better to live a wretched life than to die a good death

The foreman dared not delay. Enduring his injuries, he quickened his pace to lead the way.

Lu Chen followed silently behind him, his gaze alertly scanning the dark passages along the way.

After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, they arrived at a mining tunnel currently in operation.

Inside, there were only five miners, all hunched over, numbly swinging their pickaxes and striking the rock walls with a monotonous clanging sound.

The foreman stopped, his gaze sweeping over several people, and asked in a heavy voice, "Where is Wu Haoqian?"

The miner closest to them stopped working, lowered his head, and replied, "Reporting to Foreman He, Wu Haoqian... went to eat."

Foreman He nodded, asked no further questions, and turned to lead Lu Chen down another fork in the road.

At the end of this fork was a large cavern, from which drifted a strange smell mixed with low-quality grease, stale rice, and some kind of fermented pickles—it couldn't be called a fragrance, just the smell of food.

Inside the cavern, no fewer than a hundred miners were sitting or squatting, crowded together. Every one of them was dressed in rags, sallow and emaciated, with their heads bowed.

They silently gnawed on grayish-black coarse flour buns or mixed-grain cakes, making faint chewing sounds; no one spoke.

Foreman He led Lu Chen to stand at the entrance, his gaze roaming through the crowd, and quickly locked onto a figure in the corner.

He raised his finger and pointed: "Wu Haoqian, stand up."

The person who was called paused his movements and slowly raised his head, revealing a face mostly hidden by disheveled, grayish-white hair, covered in filth and deep wrinkles.

He somewhat sluggishly put down the half-eaten bun in his hand, propped himself up against the ground, and slowly stood up.

Under his tattered thin shirt, his abdomen was clearly wrapped in thick gauze that had long since lost its original color, most of it soaked through with dark red stains that had turned deep black.

Especially in the very center, an unsettling dark yellow showed through the gauze, and a foul stench characteristic of a rotting wound could be faintly smelled even from a distance.

"Foreman He, is there something the matter?"

Wu Haoqian's voice was hoarse and dry, carrying the weakness of long-term debility and malnutrition.

He looked at the foreman blankly, but from the corner of his eye, he extremely quickly and inconspicuously glanced at the stranger standing behind the foreman, Lu Chen.

"This lord is looking for you. Go with him."

Foreman He was concise, not daring to say a single extra word.

Lu Chen gave Foreman He a slight nod and fixed his gaze on Wu Haoqian, gesturing for him to follow.

Wu Haoqian said nothing, giving a slight bow toward Foreman He as a form of salutation.

He then subconsciously pressed one hand lightly against his painful abdomen and, with unsteady steps, followed Lu Chen and turned to leave the dining cavern.

"Eat your food! What are you looking at!"

Behind them came Foreman He's sharp reprimand to the other miners who had curiously looked up.

Those gazes immediately retracted like startled birds, and the cavern returned to the sound of deathly silent swallowing.

Once Lu Chen and Wu Haoqian's figures had completely disappeared around the corner of the passage,

Foreman He finally let out a long, lingering breath of turbid air, his heart still pounding with fear.

Just as he was about to find a place to sit and catch his breath, he suddenly felt a chill in his lower back—a cold, sharp sensation pressed tight against his clothes, pricking his skin.

It was that elusive purple lightning hibernation sting. Unknown when, it had actually burrowed into his clothes and was pressed there like a maggot on a bone.

Foreman He's body instantly stiffened, and cold sweat poured down at once.

He stood in place, not daring to move an inch, the small spark of hope that had just risen in his heart completely extinguished.

He knew that this matter was not over yet.

Lu Chen led Wu Haoqian to a relatively secluded corner of a side passage nearby where few people passed.

Here, there were only a few faint glimmers of fluorite on the rock walls, stretching their shadows into distorted blurs.

"Shenxiao Sect, Wu Haoqian?"

Lu Chen stopped, turned, and looked at this former patrol envoy before him—a man in a wretched state, exuding an aura of injury, illness, and decay—as he spoke slowly.

His voice sounded exceptionally clear in the silent mining tunnel.

Wu Haoqian's body seemed to tense for an imperceptible moment.

Then he relaxed again, still keeping his head low, his voice deep and weary: "This Wu is now a mere cripple, my Dantian shattered, my Meridians destroyed. I have long since... had nothing to do with the Shenxiao Sect. For what business does Your Excellency seek this Wu?"

"Dantian destroyed, spiritual power entirely gone; you are indeed crippled."

Lu Chen's tone was flat, revealing neither joy nor anger.

However, his gaze swept over Wu Haoqian like a physical substance, lingering for a moment on the other man's abdomen wrapped in thick, filthy gauze.

"I have some old grudges with the Shenxiao Sect. Unfortunately, the Sect is full of experts; with my strength alone, it is difficult to shake its foundations. Therefore, I can only seek out its external branches and prune them one by one to slightly vent the hatred in my heart. You are the last patrol envoy appointed by the Shenxiao Sect within several hundred miles of this place, so naturally, I had to find you."

These words of his were half-true and half-false, expressing his hostility toward the Shenxiao Sect while explaining the reason he had found this place.

More importantly, it was a test to see how much loyalty this former patrol envoy still had for his Sect after his cultivation was entirely destroyed and he had been reduced to a mine slave, and how he would react.

Upon hearing this, Wu Haoqian fell silent for a moment.

Suddenly, he gave a low, bitter laugh—a laugh that was dry and desolate, echoing in the dark mining tunnel.

He raised his head, and the eyes peering through his disheveled hair looked at Lu Chen; though cloudy, they were unusually calm.

"Your Excellency has come too late."

He spoke slowly, every word permeated with a resigned weariness. "The stronghold established here by the Shenxiao Sect was uprooted years ago by the joint efforts of the Black Flood Dragon Society and the Ouyang Family. The remaining Disciples... have all perished. Now, in this place, the only one left with any connection to the Shenxiao Sect is likely just this lingering cripple like me. If Your Excellency seeks revenge..."

He paused, his tone devoid of any ripples, "...then just kill me."

There was no defense, no attempt to curry favor, and not even a trace of the resentment or fear one should have toward an enemy.

There was only a near-exhausted calm, as if he were stating a matter that had nothing to do with himself.

He even proactively offered his neck to the blade.

However, hearing these words, Lu Chen did not strike; instead, he began to laugh softly.

That laughter sounded exceptionally clear in the silent mining tunnel, carrying a hint of coldness and a hint of insight.

"If you truly sought death,"

Lu Chen's gaze was like two ice-tempered knives, piercing straight at Wu Haoqian's lowered face.

"Then why have you struggled to endure until today? In this pitch-black mine where life is worse than death, dragging this broken body along to linger on... patrol envoy Wu, the reason you have endured this humiliation to live until now is likely not as simple as 'better a live dog than a dead lion,' is it?"

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice further, yet every word was distinct: "Is there still some secret on you that they want to know but haven't been able to pry out? Is there someone or something hidden in your heart that you must protect? Or... are you waiting for an opportunity, no matter how slim?"

As his voice fell, Wu Haoqian's head, which had been hanging low, suddenly snapped up!

From behind his disheveled hair, those eyes that were originally cloudy and weary suddenly shot out a ray of sharp light.

He stared fixedly at Lu Chen's face, as if he wanted to penetrate that unfamiliar mask to see clearly what was hidden beneath.

That numb calm was shattered in an instant; though it was only for a moment, it was enough.

"...You, exactly who are you?"

After a moment of dead silence, Wu Haoqian's hoarse voice sounded, carrying a trace of imperceptible tension.

"Someone who has... some history with the Shenxiao Sect."

Lu Chen's tone returned to being flat and ambiguous.

Wu Haoqian fell silent, his gaze roaming over Lu Chen's face as if trying to find a flaw, but in the end, he only saw a stillness like a deep pool.

After a long while, the sharpness in his eyes slowly faded, replaced once more by a deeper weariness.

His shoulders also slumped slightly, as if that moment of excitement just now had exhausted his strength.

"...I have already lost everything,"

He slowly shook his head, his voice sounding even drier than before.

"What secret could a cripple still protect? As for the person to be protected... Heh, they're long gone. They left me with a remnant of a life and threw me in this place where the sun never shines, for nothing more than... wanting to slowly torture me."

"Is that so?"

Lu Chen remained unmoved, his tone nearly cold, without a shred of sympathy.

"Then why don't you go and die? In your current state, with a shattered Dantian and rotting wounds, life is worse than death. Wouldn't death be a release for you? Or... are you actually afraid of dying?"

"You—!"

A flash of stung annoyance suddenly crossed Wu Haoqian's eyes.

But it was quickly and forcibly suppressed; that light flashed and vanished so fast it was almost as if it were an illusion.

He lowered his head again, avoiding Lu Chen's gaze, his Adam's apple bobbing once.

In the end, he only squeezed out a nearly inaudible, extremely heavy sigh from between his parched lips.

"...Even an ant clings to life."

His voice was so low it was almost impossible to hear as he repeated that pale phrase, sounding more like he was convincing himself, "Better a live dog... than a dead lion."

However, his fingers unconsciously tightening against his festering abdomen and that fleeting flash of annoyance gave Lu Chen a clear answer in his heart.

This man was by no means as resigned to his fate as he appeared on the surface.