Qingyun Sect, the mountain behind the outer gate.
There was a heavy rain, and the dark clouds seemed to collapse, completely crushing this great sect of cultivating immortals that had stood for thousands of years. The strong wind carried the icy raindrops, whipping them mercilessly on the winding mountain road like a whip.
A thin figure struggled to move in the mud like an ant.
Qin Wujiu was hunched over, carrying a black iron basket that was larger than half his body. The basket was filled with freshly mined raw ore spirit stones, and it was as heavy as carrying a mountain on its back. The rough hemp rope cut deeply into his thin shoulders and tore through his old clothes. The seeping blood mixed with the rainwater and flowed down his arms, dripping on the stone steps full of muddy water, and disappeared without a trace in an instant.
"Ahem..."
A violent cough caused him to sway, and the moss under his feet was extremely slippery. He lost his balance instantly and fell to his knees with a "plop".
