Chapter 28: Recruiting Cannon Fodder
In no time, the wandering cultivators from several nearby Immortal Markets began flocking to the Crimson Spirit Gold Mine to work as miners.
Thirty spirit stones per month.
That's 360 spirit stones a year, a sum far exceeding what most cultivators working within the Immortal Markets earned.
For comparison, He Song, who earned only 150 spirit stones a year as a Spirit Planter, found the miner's salary more than double his own.
Most wandering cultivators lived precarious, blood-soaked lives, risking their lives at every turn.
Now, a mining job promising both safety and high pay was a golden opportunity they wouldn't pass up.
The exodus of wandering cultivators left Bamboo Mountain Immortal Market unusually quiet.
The once-bustling streets now seemed sparse and empty.
"Daoist He, have you heard any news about the Crimson Spirit Gold Mine?" Lin Cong, sitting across the table, had clearly overheard the chatter from other tables as well.
Lin Cong's eyes glimmered with excitement, and it was evident he was intrigued by the idea of mining.
In his eyes, mining was undoubtedly much safer than hunting spirit beasts in the wild.
And the pay wasn't any less lucrative than risking one's life hunting beasts.
If he could earn spirit stones safely, why would anyone choose the knife's edge of a life-or-death existence?
The Crimson Spirit Gold Mine.
He Song's thoughts wandered to Meng Guan.
How was Meng Guan faring at the mine?
It had already been half a month since Meng Guan left Bamboo Mountain Immortal Market to work at the mine, but there had been no word from him.
This silence left He Song vaguely uneasy.
Faced with Lin Cong's question, He Song was reminded of their earlier conversation.
After some thought, he made up his mind.
'Very well, I'll try to dissuade him. At least, I can ensure my friend doesn't rush headlong into danger.'
"Daoist Lin," He Song began in a low voice, "this is for your ears only. Don't spread it around."
Seeing Lin Cong's suddenly intrigued expression, He Song reached into his sleeve and pulled out a sheet of paper.
The paper was originally meant for crafting paper cranes for voice transmission, but the bustling tavern was hardly the place for private conversation.
With a flick of his fingers, strands of spiritual energy emanated, swiftly inscribing words onto the paper.
"The Crimson Spirit Gold Mine recruits only wandering cultivators, not those affiliated with Immortal Markets."
After finishing the inscription, He Song handed the paper to Lin Cong and resumed enjoying his meal.
With this act, He Song felt a sense of relief.
Earlier, Lin Cong had shared insights about breaking through from the early to middle stages of Qi Refinement—a gesture of goodwill.
He Song had initially intended to repay this kindness by recommending the Spirit Techniques Pavilion's miscellaneous books, but it seemed Lin Cong had no interest.
Now, however, this piece of information served as the perfect way to repay the favor.
Even if Lin Cong still didn't visit the Spirit Techniques Pavilion, He Song felt the debt of gratitude had been balanced.
"This…" Lin Cong's eyes widened as he read the message on the paper.
Though shocked, he quickly regained composure. A faint surge of spiritual energy flickered in his hands, and with it, the paper disintegrated into fine powder, carried away by the breeze.
The paper was gone.
It was as if the paper had never existed.
But at this moment, Lin Cong's heart was in turmoil.
With just a glance at the paper, he understood the terrifying implications of what He Song had entrusted to him.
Under what circumstances would a mining operation exclusively recruit wandering cultivators?
In what scenario would wandering cultivators be invited to work at a mine?
And why would a small mine station multiple Foundation Establishment cultivators for security?
Lin Cong didn't have answers to these questions.
But he knew one thing.
The more tightly guarded a location, the more likely it was to contain treasure—and the more likely it was fraught with danger.
As this realization struck, a cold sweat broke out on Lin Cong's back.
Earlier, he had entertained the idea that mining might be a more comfortable and safer alternative to hunting spirit beasts.
But now, he understood the truth.
Such high pay wasn't for miners—it was for cannon fodder.
Perhaps some unknown peril awaited the "recruits" in that Crimson Spirit Gold Mine.
Even if the miners collectively rebelled, the Foundation Establishment cultivators stationed there could easily crush any resistance.
As for the true situation within the mine, that was beyond his knowledge.
Drenched in cold sweat, Lin Cong turned his gaze toward He Song, his eyes filled with deep gratitude.
"Thank you for saving my life!" Lin Cong bowed deeply to He Song, overwhelmed by a profound sense of appreciation.
He suddenly realized that befriending He Song five years ago was the best decision he had ever made.
If he hadn't sought to build a friendship with He Song back then, he would likely already be on his way to the mine, full of anticipation.
And at that point, his fate…
The thought of what might have awaited him sent a shiver down his spine, intensifying his gratitude toward He Song.
He Song, unaware of Lin Cong's thoughts, was not surprised by his friend's drastic reaction.
The information He Song had shared originated from Wei Fan, a late-stage Qi Refinement cultivator, half a month ago.
While rumors about the Crimson Spirit Gold Mine had now spread throughout the Immortal Market, only a handful of individuals knew the deeper truths.
To a wandering cultivator like Lin Cong, who had limited access to reliable information, such a revelation was undoubtedly earth-shattering.
"Just keep this to yourself," He Song warned. "This is a sensitive matter. If anyone comes investigating…"
Although He Song trusted Lin Cong's character after their five years of friendship, a bit of cautionary pressure never hurt.
This wasn't strictly forbidden knowledge—after all, Wei Fan had shared it casually with He Song and Meng Guan.
However, even if rumors of the danger spread among wandering cultivators, few would believe it.
Most would dismiss it as a baseless attempt to dissuade them from earning spirit stones.
By emphasizing the severity of the situation, He Song could discourage Lin Cong from probing further—especially since He Song himself didn't know much more.
"Daoist He, you're overthinking. My lips are sealed!" Lin Cong promised with a nervous chuckle.
"Come now, let's drink! Tonight, we're not leaving until we're drunk!"
Despite He Song's warning, Lin Cong felt a surge of gratitude and respect.
As a wandering cultivator, he couldn't fathom He Song's hidden motives, and instead, he saw the gesture as a genuine act of goodwill.
This newfound respect deepened his trust and admiration for He Song, solidifying their friendship even further.
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