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The night passed quickly. At dawn, the barracks still lay in slumber when a sudden metallic clang shattered the quiet. The heavy iron door swung open, and two guards strode in.
"You, come with us!" one of them barked. These guards radiated power, each at a high level of the Transcendent Realm. Weaklings would never survive in the Northern Foothill Mines.
Liu Wuxie rose to his feet, and He Yingwu followed close behind.
"I'm going with him," He Yingwu said, making the guards exchange puzzled glances. In the past, slaves chosen for the Northern Foothill Mines often preferred death to going there. Today, someone volunteered.
"Follow us then," one of the guards replied after a pause. The mines were short on labor, and every extra pair of hands meant...
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