Valley mine.
The ragged prisoners labored numbly, their eyes lifeless. Beneath flickering ghostfire whips, they trembled as they struggled to haul ore out from the mine shafts.
The ones who had deceived the monkey were two rogue immortals of the Mortal Immortal Realm.
One had died, and one had fled. They never could have imagined that three words—Dragon Slaying Saber—used to gild their own faces would bring disaster upon them.
Rot and mold easily bred in dark corners untouched by sunlight. With profits great enough, greedy men would risk anything to open illegal mines. As long as they were cautious and avoided detection by the Heavenly Patrol Immortal Generals, they could secretly turn mineral deposits into resources for cultivation.
The death of a thug wandering outside meant little to the experts stationed at the mine.
Before anyone realized it, dark clouds had gathered, and a mountain rain was on its way.
On the mountain peak, a sentry from the mine lay on the ground, taking more breaths out than in. The monkey squatted atop the hill with his stick over his shoulder, grinning. Do not ask why he was fighting, much less what he was fighting for, or who his opponent was and how strong they might be. Just tell him where the place was. Back in the depths of the Hundred Thousand Mountains, the monkey had been known as the Mad Monkey.
He rubbed the wooden stick, always feeling that it was not as handy as a tree trunk had been.
He casually plucked an unripe fruit and gnawed on it.
"Chitter, it's begun."
A light could be seen moving through the black clouds on the distant horizon, incredibly fast.
The expert meditating within the valley mine suddenly jolted awake. He took out a compass-like treasure, and his brow