The cold light of dawn seeped through the bamboo cracks. The room still carried a thick heat, soaked with the smell of sweat and friction after an uninterrupted night.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Zhì Yuǎn observed his own forearm in the dim light. The muscle fibers pulsed with a dense, static weight. The golden energy they had ground into his veins had cemented his flesh far beyond its normal limit.
Sprawled face down on the damp sheets, Yù Qíng breathed slowly. Sweat dried on her pale back, marked by bite marks and the purplish fingerprints from Zhì Yuǎn's grip. Her newly forged body didn't require rest, but the exhaustion of chewing fire in the dark all night had left the girl collapsed against the pillow.
Zhì Yuǎn's calloused hand rose into the air.
A short smile curved the corner of his lips. He brought his open palm down with force.
Smack!
The sound exploded in the muffled room. The impact shoved his wife's bare ass against the straw mattress with raw weight.
— Nnnngh… — a rough moan tore from Yù Qíng's throat.
Her small body jolted. She turned her crumpled face, struggling against the light to focus on her husband. Stubbornness pulled at her swollen lips as her hand instinctively moved down to rub the burning skin. The heat from the slap sent a shiver down the girl's spine, drawing a second short, breathless moan from her mouth.
Zhì Yuǎn's smile grew slightly.
— You can keep sleeping, Qíng — his deep voice sounded calm as he picked up the gray tunic from the floor and slipped his arms into it. — We need to take it easy today.
— You tell me to sleep right after waking me up — she complained, her voice low and sulky. She tried to push herself up to pull her husband back into bed, but exhaustion won and she let her head fall back onto the mattress. — And on top of that, you provoke me… marking my skin…
Zhì Yuǎn finished tying his leather belt but didn't walk toward the door. He lowered himself beside the bed. His large hand came down and grabbed Yù Qíng's bare ass, squeezing exactly the hot, red skin he had just slapped.
Yù Qíng held her breath. His grip hurt, but the heat that rushed up her spine was stronger than the pain. She hated it when he left, but she hated it even more when he took too long. That mark was the only thing that calmed her in moments like this.
— I need to go down and deal with a small inconvenience — his voice came out low and rough, right against her ear. — This mark stays here so you don't go crazy again if I take too long.
The direct, territorial warning crushed the girl's stubbornness instantly. An instinctive shiver ran up her spine, drowning out any reply.
Satisfied with his wife's submissive silence, Zhì Yuǎn released her flesh, stood up, and walked toward the exit.
— I'm going to check the northern slope. The inspector demanded double the coal. I'll mark whatever veins I can find and let your father meet the quota in peace.
The sound of the heavy bamboo bar sealed the young man's departure, leaving the woman immersed in the silence of the cabin.
———
The smell of sour sweat and stone dust reeked at the entrance of the main mine, at the base of the northern slope.
A low mist mixed with the miners' labored breathing. Yù Chéng rubbed his soot-covered eyelids. Beside his father-in-law, Lao Gui spat dark saliva onto the ground, his old body leaning on a blunt pickaxe.
The wooden carts lined up along the path remained empty. The wartime demand from the inspector was choking the entire camp.
Heavy footsteps crushed the gravel on the trail.
Zhì Yuǎn emerged from the mist. His broad body stretched the gray tunic. His leather boots sank into the mud with a raw weight that immediately silenced the workers' murmurs.
— We've run out of coal in the middle galleries — Yù Chéng said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. He pointed at the rock wall with a trembling arm. — The veins thinned out. The pickaxe hits hard stone before filling even half a sack. The empire wants double by the end of the week. We can't deliver that in time.
Zhì Yuǎn remained silent for a few seconds, observing the group of exhausted men. Then his gaze stopped at the entrance of the southern gallery, sealed for years by thick oak planks.
He walked toward the barricade.
Yù Chéng took a step forward, alarmed.
— That hole is rotten, Zhì Yuǎn. Rocks fall from the ceiling with the weight of a boot. The wood inside has completely rotted. Anyone who goes in might not come out alive.
Zhì Yuǎn ran his hand over the central plank, feeling the soft wood beneath his fingers.
— We have five days to deliver double the quota — he replied calmly. — If we keep digging in the good galleries, we won't make it. This one here is already about to collapse on its own. If I go in and pull out whatever coal is still there, we can deliver on time.
Yù Chéng clenched his fist tightly.
— You're talking about entering a hole that could collapse at any moment. This isn't strategy, it's madness. I'm not going to let you kill yourself over coal.
Zhì Yuǎn looked at his father-in-law for a moment, then turned his eyes back to the rotten planks.
— If I don't do this, the regiment will come down here and hang you in the square. I'd rather risk my neck now than wait for them to come for your head later.
Before Yù Chéng could process the absurdity of the answer, Zhì Yuǎn's calloused hands moved against the wood. He felt the central plank, mapping where the rot had loosened the oak fibers.
His leather boots dug into the mud. Without tools, without levers, and without bending his posture, Zhì Yuǎn simply closed his fingers around the thick wood and pulled.
Crack.
The sound of splitting wood tore through the courtyard. The thick iron nails groaned as they were ripped from the solid stone. The oak plank broke in half and flew backward. A second pull from Zhì Yuǎn's wrists tore the lower plank away, fully exposing the entrance.
Lao Gui's mouth fell open. His pickaxe slipped and hit the ground.
The coal-covered miners stood frozen. They watched in silence as the young man tore out logs embedded in the rock using nothing but the raw strength of his arms, his broad chest rising and falling at the same calm rhythm as always.
Zhì Yuǎn stepped over the destroyed barricade. The damp darkness of the abandoned tunnel swallowed his broad back in an instant.
The air inside the old gallery stank of rotten mushrooms and stagnant dust.
The darkness of the tunnel didn't blind him. Zhì Yuǎn's dark eyes adjusted to the gloom. His gaze swept across the rock ahead, seeing past the raw stone to find the thick veins of black coal hidden in the side walls.
His leather boot crushed the dirt floor. The weight of his step was enough to disturb the fifteen-year silence of the mine.
A crack of dead wood echoed in the dark. The central support beam right above Zhì Yuǎn turned to dust. A slab of stone weighing several tons cracked in the ceiling and plummeted in free fall directly toward his skull.
Zhì Yuǎn didn't step back. His jaw clenched and his broad chest contracted.
He pulled the heavy golden energy from his chest and violently threw it against his own skin. Millions of open pores released the heat. A wave of Qi exploded from the young man's shoulders and arms into the empty air.
The rock collapsed against the energy. The impact produced a dull, heavy sound that shook the dust throughout the entire tunnel. The solidified atmospheric pressure crushed gravity. The tons of stone simply stopped in midair, suspended a palm's width from the man's unshaken face.
The raw burden demanded its price. The tendons in Zhì Yuǎn's neck stretched like steel cables. Hot sweat ran down his temple, but he didn't yield a single millimeter.
Beneath the suspended rock, the young man lowered his gaze and picked up a rusty iron pickaxe from the damp earth.
Breathing heavily, Zhì Yuǎn walked through the tunnel. The iron blade struck the side walls mercilessly, carving deep and precise marks. He pointed out the safe spots where pure coal overflowed.
Minutes later, the young man emerged from the darkness.
His gray tunic was covered in stone dust. Zhì Yuǎn tossed the pickaxe at Yù Chéng's feet with a dull thud. The oak handle was split down the middle, and the heavy iron tip was completely blunt and twisted.
— The path is clear — Zhì Yuǎn said, his voice rustic and calm, without any change in his breathing. — You can go in.
Yù Chéng swallowed dryly. The old man lit a torch and entered the abandoned gallery, closely followed by Lao Gui. The smell of ozone and crushed stone suffocated both of them within the first few steps.
The torchlight revealed the ceiling. When they saw the multi-ton stone slab embedded in the wall and the deep marks carved into the rock, neither of them spoke for several seconds. Yù Chéng felt a chill run up his spine. He already knew his son-in-law was no longer an ordinary man, but seeing the difference between them with his own eyes hurt in a strange way.
Beneath the crushed rock, the walls displayed deep fissures that would defy any human tool. They looked like slashes carved into the hard stone as if it were mud. Inside the fissures, pure black coal stood out clearly.
When the sun began to descend in the west, bathing the slope in a rusty tone, the first heavily loaded cart emerged from the darkness. The wooden wheels creaked under the full load. The army's toll had been paid with leftovers.
Zhì Yuǎn turned his back on the silent terror of the workers and walked back toward the shadows of the bamboo grove.
———
The cold wind of the forest washed away the smell of panic from the slope. When Zhì Yuǎn stepped into the cabin's yard, the dark mine dust covering his tunic clashed against the sweet scent still leaking through the bamboo cracks.
Yù Qíng was waiting on the veranda.
She was barefoot, arms crossed. As soon as she saw Zhì Yuǎn approaching, her gaze immediately dropped to the dust dirtying his shoulders and chest. Her disgust was visible on her face. A tub of water and clean cloths was already prepared beside her.
— The mountain got you filthy — she said, her voice hard. She stepped closer and began untying his belt without waiting for a response, pulling the dirty tunic away from his skin.
Zhì Yuǎn raised his arms to make it easier.
— The quota is settled — he replied. — The old man has coal to deliver now. The empire should stop bothering him for a good while.
Yù Qíng wet the cloth in cold water and began scrubbing his chest, cleaning off the dust. She stayed silent for a few seconds, focused on what she was doing. Then she raised her face.
— And the cart to Qīngshí? — she asked. — We'll need you to be certain before messing with your sister's structure.
Zhì Yuǎn raised an eyebrow, noting the way she phrased it. He answered calmly:
— Not yet. Your aura is still leaking. If we go to the city now, any cultivator with even a little sensitivity will feel it. I don't want to draw attention before it's time.
Yù Qíng stopped moving, absorbing what he said.
— We're going to stay locked here for a few more weeks — he continued. — Until you can stabilize properly and stop leaking aura. Only after that will we go to Qīngshí.
The cloth slipped from Yù Qíng's hand and fell into the tub with a muffled sound. She felt her stomach tighten when he said they still weren't traveling. It wasn't just desire. It was need. The longer they spent apart, the more she felt something inside her becoming restless. And she hated it.
Yù Qíng stared at him for a second, then lowered her hands and grabbed his arm tightly. Without saying anything else, she pulled Zhì Yuǎn inside the cabin and pushed him until he sat on the edge of the bed.
She went to the door, picked up the wooden log, and locked it from the inside. The sound echoed through the room.
She returned quickly, dropped to her knees between his legs, and pulled the knot of his pants with urgency. Her gaze was different — darker, hungrier. His wife didn't speak. She simply pulled off his pants, held his warm flesh with both hands, and leaned in. The relief of touching him again was overwhelming. She slowly ran her tongue over the tip, her eyes half-closed, as if she wanted to mark that he was back and belonged to her.