The Martial Cultivator of the Cultivation World

Yan Kingdom, Blood Baleful Demon Sect.

At dawn, the first light of day was faint, and thin mist like gauze washed the demon mountains stretching for a thousand miles into an ink-splash scroll.

"Mad Ape Treads on Snow!"

"Savage Ape Rams the Mountain!"

Lu Lin's figure rose and fell as he practiced the Demonic Ape Blood Qi Art from the first form to the twenty-second, as smooth as drifting clouds and flowing water. Then he took a deep breath, trying to press on in one burst and attack the twenty-third form, but before the move was even halfway through, his body froze like a rusted machine, unable to advance an inch.

"Come together for me!" Lu Lin growled, threads of blood showing in his eyes as all the strength in his body erupted, intending to force his way through.

But tearing pain shot through his back and thighs in an instant, and it was as if a thousand-jin boulder had crashed down onto his shoulders. His body trembled, and he fell heavily to the ground, panting in great gulps, sweat pouring down like rain. The muscles in his back and legs spasmed as though they had been ripped apart alive.

"Still no good..." He gave a bitter smile and shook his head, wiping the sweat from his temple. "It's been three days, and I still can't get past the twenty-third form. The Demonic Ape Blood Qi Art has thirty-six forms in total, and there's only half a month left until the three-month deadline... Did I finally catch this transmigration tide, only to end up 'dying before the campaign even begins'?"

He had suddenly transmigrated here five days ago, and after the initial confusion and terror, he had gradually accepted it.

This was a world of immortal cultivators.

Riding artifacts through the sky, coming and going through the blue depths; arts that reached the heavens, splitting mountains and severing rivers; Golden Cores and Nascent Souls, longevity and deathlessness... It made the heart yearn.

However, the premise for all of this was possessing a spiritual root.

Those without spiritual roots could only struggle along the path of martial arts for their entire lives.

But in this immortal cultivation world, a martial artist's status was as lowly as dust.

The powerful physique tempered through endless hardship could not withstand a single blow before an immortal cultivator.

Forget contending with great powers of the Golden Core or Nascent Soul realms—even after exhausting a lifetime, one might not be able to block a casual strike from the magic artifact of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

Even so, many major immortal cultivation sects still kept large numbers of martial artists.

There was no other reason: martial artists were useful.

With brute strength, they could do what ordinary people could not: mine ore and chisel stone, carry heavy loads, serve as deathsworn, or be reduced to cannon fodder for exploring secret realms...

Lu Lin's original body had been one of the martial artist seedlings abducted by the Blood Baleful Demon Sect from the Yan Kingdom. Two and a half months ago, he had been captured and brought here by disciples of the demon sect, then taught this Demonic Ape Blood Qi Art.

The demon sect never raised useless people.

Within three months, if one could not complete all thirty-six forms and stir the blood qi throughout the entire body to step into the first level of Body Tempering, there was only one end... to be thrown into the beast cage and become spirit beast feed.

This was called making use of waste.

Lu Lin's original body not only had no spiritual root at all, even his martial bones were appallingly poor. After bitterly enduring for two and a half months, he was still stuck at the twenty-second form. With only half a month left before the three-month deadline, trying to master all thirty-six forms was no different from a fool babbling about dreams.

"I can't give up. Again!" Lu Lin clenched his teeth and, forcing up his sore and limp body, stood once more.

"Please! Give me a few more days! Just a few days! I'll definitely break through! I'll definitely master it!"

A shrill, despairing wail came from not far away.

Lu Lin glanced over from the corner of his eye and saw a thin youth with a bloodless face being dragged out of the crowd by two black-robed burly men like a dead dog. Tears and snot streamed down the youth's face as he struggled with all his might, his ten fingers scraping streaks of blood across the hard ground.

Crack!

A gaunt-faced steward with a goatee stamped down expressionlessly, and the youth's wrist bones shattered with the sound. His cold voice rang out: "The time is up. Rules are rules."

The crying and howling quickly faded into the distance.

The goateed steward's wolf-like gaze swept over the crowd, who had fallen silent as winter cicadas. "What are you looking at? Keep practicing! Practice yourselves to death! If you can't master it, this is your example!"

Everyone's hearts chilled, and they hurriedly lowered their heads to train bitterly.

The bitterness in Lu Lin's heart deepened. In just five short days, he had witnessed such scenes no fewer than seven or eight times. Almost every day, someone was dragged away and fed to those savage Demon Wolves.

If there was no miracle, in half a month, he would follow in their footsteps.

How bitter... I transmigrated into this immortal cultivation world, yet I have no spiritual root and was reduced to a martial artist penned up by a demon sect... Even being an ordinary commoner would be better than living like this, with no guarantee of seeing the next morning. Lu Lin sighed inwardly.

As for escaping? That was even more impossible.

According to his predecessor's memories, every martial artist had some kind of mark planted on their body by the immortal masters of the Blood Baleful Demon Sect. Once they fled, they would soon be dragged back.

The end then would be ten times, a hundred times more miserable.

Besides, it was not as if reaching the first level of Body Tempering meant one could rest easy.

Within a year and a half, they had to step into the third level of Body Tempering.

Within three years, they had to break through to the fourth level of Body Tempering, the realm of "Tempering Sinews and Forging Flesh"! If they failed? They would still be fed to Demon Wolves, or even have their flesh and blood refined into human pills.

It was still the same saying: the demon sect did not raise useless people.

Only after stepping into the fourth level of Body Tempering would things become slightly better.

But only slightly.

Because once they stepped into the fourth level of Body Tempering, they would be summoned by the immortal masters from time to time to carry out all kinds of missions, becoming their pawns and cannon fodder, always at risk of death.

In the eyes of the immortal masters, martial artists were tools, consumables. If they died, they died; if they died, they could just capture more people and train them.

Among mortals, there were plenty of people.

Complaining was useless; the only thing he could do was keep risking his life.

If he wanted to survive, he had to keep improving his strength. Only when his strength was great enough would his chances of living rise.

For example, if he broke through to the seventh level of Body Tempering or above, or even reached the legendary realm of the "Innate Blood Aura," his value to the immortal masters would increase. Naturally, the immortal masters would pay him a little more attention and not let him die so easily.

Soon, an hour passed, and today's training was declared over.

However, this was only the beginning. What came next was the true theme of their every day.

Mining.

Lu Lin's true identity was a menial miner of the Blood Baleful Demon Sect.

Dragging legs that felt as if they had been filled with lead, he returned to the common bunkhouse, picked up the heavy iron pickaxe, slung a bamboo basket over his back, and walked out of the barracks.

The road leading to the mining area was jagged with strange rocks, utterly devoid of life.

After the time it took an incense stick to burn, a massive sinkhole appeared before his eyes. On the pit walls, over a hundred mine tunnels gaped densely, deep and dark like the mouths of beasts.

Countless miners poured into them like ants.

Lu Lin chose one of the tunnels and went deeper inside.

The cave twisted and wound, with countless branching paths. He walked on in silence for several hundred meters before arriving at the end of one shaft.

"Let's begin." He set down the bamboo basket, took a deep breath of air mixed with the smell of dust and ore, gripped the iron pickaxe tightly with both hands, and smashed it toward the mine wall with all his strength.

Thud!

The muffled impact echoed through the cave, and the powerful recoil jolted his arms numb.

This was the Black Iron Vein. The mine wall was as hard as rock. Even with a full-force swing, Lu Lin could only hack off a palm-sized chunk of dirt and stone.

He did not dare stop to rest and swung the iron pickaxe again.

They had tasks to complete every day.

Every day, they had to hand in three jin of Black Iron Ore that met the quality standard. It did not matter if they could not turn it all in that day; they could make up for it later, as long as over the course of a month they averaged three jin per day.

If, after a month, they failed to average three jin a day, then sorry—Demon Wolf feed.

Thud, thud, thud... The monotonous, heavy knocking continued to echo through the cramped space.

Half an hour passed, and Lu Lin's heavy clothes were soaked through with sweat. His whole body was sore and weak, and he had no choice but to lean against the cold mine wall and gasp for breath.

"At a time like this, how amazing would it be to have a can of ice-cold beer..."

Lu Lin sighed inwardly, unable to stop himself from missing his days on Earth.

Back then, though he had also been an ox and horse, rising before dawn and returning after dark every day for a few scraps of silver, he at least had time to catch his breath.

After getting off work, he could call up three or five friends, have ice-cold beer and barbecue, and point out the rivers and mountains.

There were also the twisting waists on his phone screen when he scrolled late at night... But here, the shadow of death was like maggots clinging to the bone, forcing people not to slack off in the slightest, leaving them no chance to breathe at all.

After resting for a moment, he gritted his teeth and got up again.

Another half hour passed amid the dull, tedious digging.

Thud!

A layer of stone peeled away, and a soft, milky-white glow suddenly entered his eyes. Lu Lin's heart gave a fierce jump!

"This is... an Inferior Spirit Stone?"

His spirits soared.

Inferior Spirit Stones were companion products of the Black Iron Vein, rare and hard to find, and worth far more than Black Iron Ore. Digging up one piece could not only offset ten jin of Black Iron Ore, but also earn an extra reward of silver. This was the first one Lu Lin had seen in five days.

He held his breath and carefully dug along the edges of the spirit stone. Before long, a milky-white crystal about the size of a longan, irregular in shape, fell into his palm.

Inside the crystal, wisps and strands of fog-like impurities were clearly visible. It was precisely these impurities that defined its "inferior" quality.

The truly pure and flawless Spirit Stones of legend were even more immeasurably valuable.

[Inferior spiritual energy detected. Can be exchanged for one month of bitter cultivation. Exchange?]

A piece of information appeared without warning in the depths of Lu Lin's mind.