The sky was dim, and the Yongchang Gate creaked open.

Amid swirling sand and wind, the Harmony Rickshaw Yard’s convoy headed toward the Li Family Mine.

Gritty sand, carried by the northern gusts, burrowed into mouths, ears, noses, and eyes.

Ten years ago, the outskirts weren’t like this—back then, it was all green hills and clear waters.

But ever since the warlords began their chaotic battles, soldiers and bandits combed through the land like a fine-toothed comb, leaving it desolate.

Add to that the refugees, who stripped the bark and roots clean from anything edible outside the city.

At first, Marshal Zhang tried sending troops to drive the refugees away. Later, some advisor suggested using them as a buffer, figuring other warlords would think twice before attacking.

And so, bit by bit, the lands outside Forty-Nine City turned into this barren waste.

If there was any green left to be seen, it was only in the few mining districts outside the city.

After all, no matter how hungry the refugees were, they wouldn’t dare provoke the demon beasts in the mines.

A faint light broke at dawn.

Xiangzi stood on a hillside, gazing at the ant-like swarm of refugees below, his brows knitting together.

The refugees seemed even more numerous than before.

Uncle Jie, standing behind him, chuckled. “These refugees aren’t fools. They wouldn’t dare mess with us lightly.”

Xiangzi waited for the convoy to pass before saying, “Uncle Jie, I’m worried about the return trip. We’ll be hauling ore then.”

Uncle Jie shook his head, his face full of confidence. “Don’t worry. That ore suppresses vitality so much, these refugees can barely stand, let alone try to touch us.”

Uncle Jie had worked this route for over a decade, knowing it inside and out. The refugees were nothing new to him.

More importantly, this mining route was tied to the embassy district’s affairs. Forget refugees—even warlords with armies didn’t dare entertain crooked thoughts lightly.

Years ago, Marshal Cao had set his sights on a few mines outside the city. That’s how Marshal Zhang seized the chance, backed by several embassy district families, and drove Cao out of Forty-Nine City. Now, that once-mighty Marshal Cao was just a guest exile in Shen City.

Hearing Uncle Jie’s words, Xiangzi felt much more at ease.

Indeed, since the days when the Great Shun Dynasty’s imperial banner still flew, this mining route had existed.

Anyone who dared tamper with it had their head hung at the market square long ago.

But when Xiangzi’s gaze fell on a nearby cart, his brows furrowed deeply. The heavy iron shield, meant to be fixed at the front for cover, had been removed by some slick rickshaw puller.

The yard’s carts were specially made, with sturdy rubber wheels capable of carrying hundreds of pounds.

The shield at the front was forged from fine iron—back in the Great Shun days, when horse bandits roamed, it was used to block arrows.

By the yard’s rules, that shield was never to be removed, no matter the circumstances.

But in recent years, as the mining route grew stable, those strict rules were ignored.

When Jin Fu Gui was yard leader, he didn’t even bother checking for it.

A few days ago, Xiangzi had suddenly ordered everyone to reattach the shields. The men grumbled in private, but with Xiangzi’s growing authority, no one dared object openly.

“Big Mouth Li, who told you to take off the shield?” Xiangzi’s voice was sharp, his eyes like knives.

“Master Xiang, it’s just the wind’s too strong,” Big Mouth Li mumbled, his voice shrinking under Xiangzi’s piercing stare. He forced a laugh. “Master Xiang, we’ll put it back right now, right now.”

Xiangzi’s gaze swept over the convoy. Most of the men had secretly removed their shields—these old hands, long used to the mining route, were experts at cutting corners to save effort.

Wen San quickly jumped in, barking orders, and the men reluctantly reattached the shields.

The convoy grew a bit disorganized.

At that moment, unnoticed by all, Skinny Monkey, trailing at the convoy’s rear, waved the yard’s black-and-gold banner toward the refugee crowd.

The banner flashed briefly in the dim morning light and was gone.

Not long after, a stir rippled through a cluster of refugees in the dusty yellow haze.

When they reached the Li Family Mine’s outskirts, they finally saw some lush greenery.

The air felt fresher, though the mineral dust was still choking.

By custom, the men could take a breather here.

The guard captain at the mine’s perimeter was still Chen Fan—Master Tang’s fellow disciple, the martial man Xiangzi had met on his first visit.

Spotting Chen Fan from afar, Xiangzi smiled, clasped his hands in greeting, and pulled out a Daqianmen cigarette, lighting it for Chen Fan himself.

Thanks to Master Tang’s connection, Xiangzi had grown close to Chen Fan over these days.

As they chatted, the rickshaw pullers donned sanitary masks—the mineral dust was harsh on the nose, especially for martial men who hadn’t passed the vitality gate. It was pure torment.

By contrast, Chen Fan and Xiangzi, casually smoking in such a place, stood out as oddities.

The mine’s perimeter guards, watching this, were quietly stunned.

The captain’s usually so high and mighty, barely sparing a word for his own men. How’s he chatting so warmly with a young rickshaw puller?

Amid the haze of smoke, Chen Fan eyed Xiangzi’s calm demeanor and said with surprise, “Xiangzi, your vitality’s pretty strong. I reckon you’ll break the vitality gate soon enough.”

Xiangzi smiled. “Just messing around with some stance training. How can I compare to you, Master Fan?”

Chen Fan clapped his shoulder, chuckling. “Your tongue’s getting sweeter, kid. Looks like being yard leader’s polishing you up.”

His words were half-true, half-teasing.

Chen Fan had long seen through Xiangzi. Though the kid looked honest and simple, his mind was sharp and meticulous, his words watertight.

But that alone wouldn’t make a ninth-rank Bone Forging martial man like Chen Fan see him differently.

What really mattered was Xiangzi’s potential—it was downright surprising.

When Xiangzi first hauled ore, he’d been a bit of a mess.

Now, in just a month, his vitality was no weaker than the guards under Chen Fan who’d already passed the vitality gate!

Awakening vitality in a month of stance training and reaching this level in two—that kind of talent would earn a nod even at Baolin Martial Hall.

Pity, Xiangzi started martial training too late. No matter his talent, his martial path would likely be limited.

As Chen Fan pondered, Xiangzi waved a hand. Wen San promptly dragged over a cart.

Lifting the cover revealed several baskets of fresh melons and fruits.

In this chilly spring, produce was precious, especially in a place like the mine, where most things near the five-color ore were untouchable.

The five-color ore didn’t just affect humans and beasts; even the plants took on a strange, eerie quality.

Once, while hauling ore, Xiangzi had seen a yellow flower, half a man’s height, swallow a small beast in one gulp.

The guards’ eyes nearly popped out at the sight of the fruit baskets.

Meat was plentiful year-round in the mine, but fresh produce was a rare treat.

Xiangzi smiled. “Master Fan, you’ve looked out for us these days. These fruits were picked up along the way. Let your men have a taste.”

He spoke lightly, but a basket of fruit was worth three to five silver dollars.

Chen Fan accepted the gesture with a grin, finding the big guy even more likable.

As yard leader, Xiangzi’s monthly pay had risen to over twenty silver dollars, but spending four on fruit still stung a bit.

Yet the money was well spent!

Chen Fan, munching an apple, said casually, “Back when Liu Hu came around often, I heard he was tight with Li Gui.”

Xiangzi froze.

Li Gui? The overseer in charge of ore output at the Li Family Mine?

He glanced at Chen Fan, who only wore a faint, playful smile, saying no more.

Clearly, Chen Fan’s words weren’t careless.

In that moment, Xiangzi understood most of it.

No wonder he hadn’t spotted any issues on the mining route this past month.

Li Gui was the inside man, secretly helping Liu Hu and his crew.

With a Li family member covering for them, how could Xiangzi catch their slip?

Xiangzi let out a long breath, suppressing the churning emotions within, his face remaining calm. He waved a hand and called out, “Brothers, masks on tight. We’re entering the mine.”

Watching this, Chen Fan nodded inwardly.

Back at Baolin Martial Hall, Master always said martial men value calmness in great matters. This young Xiangzi, despite his age, truly had a rare composure!