The guard opened his hand, revealing a coin-sized, jade-like bone.

At the sight of the “demon beast bone,” both onlookers and yard pullers froze.

The glossy bone, like a magnet, drew every eye.

Especially the yard guards who’d broken the Vitality Barrier—their gazes burned with fervor.

A demon beast bone!

Everyone knew vitality tonic was brewed from demon beast meat.

But the finest tonic came from demon beast bones.

Compared to beast flesh, these unassuming bones were the true treasure for “martial artist nourishment”!

Li Gui pocketed the bone, kicking the miner’s body with a sneer. “I knew something was off. We cut their rations this month, yet this guy kept getting stronger.”

Miners sometimes unearthed demon beast bones in the tunnels.

By rule, turning them in to the Li family earned a hefty sum.

But most miners were martial artists who’d awakened their vitality. A single bone could surge their vitality, perhaps pushing them toward the Pillar of Vitality threshold.

Naturally, some risked it all.

The Li family, operating here for centuries, wasn’t new to this.

Especially lately, with many miners picked from refugees, greed grew among the bolder ones.

Li Gui turned, seeing Xiangzi’s stunned face.

He handed over a delivery receipt. “Brother, the ore’s counted. Please check.”

Snapping out of his daze, Xiangzi signed it.

His hand trembled slightly.

Li Gui assumed it was first-day nerves.

The sun slanted across Xiangzi’s sharp jawline as he lowered his eyes, hiding the storm in his gaze.

This demon beast bone’s texture was identical to the stone he’d taken from the Ma Liu Rickshaw Yard thin man!

After the commotion, the convoy, loaded with ore, set off as the sun climbed high.

Forty-Nine City’s embassy district sealed its gates at dusk, so Xiangzi urged the group to move, unwilling to bear the blame for delay.

The ore’s vitality suppression was intense. Even veteran pullers struggled to pick up speed.

An old puller named Old Ma stumbled on a steep slope, nearly overturning his cart.

If not for Xiangzi’s quick reflexes, Old Ma and cart would’ve tumbled down.

“Thanks, Master Xiang!” Old Ma, not yet fifty but nearly white-haired, was caked in mud, sweat beading on his brow and whiskers.

His face was ashen—a lost cart of ore would cost more than my life.

Xiangzi glanced at his pallor, saying nothing. He grabbed the cart handles, shouldered the weight, and took over.

“Master Xiang, no, you’re the lead puller!” Old Ma protested.

“I’ll hand it back after this slope,” Xiangzi said, steadily pulling the cart uphill.

Deep ruts marked the yellow earth.

In the second-class yard, Old Ma was the most senior. He and his son had served Fourth Master as pullers for years.

Back in the yard, Old Ma had occasionally looked out for Xiangzi.

Old Ma flexed his arm, watching Xiangzi’s back, tears welling in his eyes.

By rights, Old Ma, a veteran martial artist, shouldn’t have faltered.

But years ago, when Marshal Zhang took Forty-Nine City, Old Ma’s son, Little Ma, was killed by bandits on a mine run.

With Little Ma gone, his costly bride fled, leaving a grandson under ten.

Fourth Master was generous—second-class pullers earned decent pay.

But Old Ma, hoping his grandson would rise, poured his savings—and even his house—into sending the boy to Baolin Martial Hall as an apprentice.

Martial artists needed nourishment, from food to medicine, at no small cost.

Old Ma’s wages went to his grandson, leaving his own martial path neglected.

At the slope’s end, Xiangzi halted the cart.

A line flashed in his mind:

[Rickshaw Puller Experience +5]

[Profession: Rickshaw Puller (Minor Mastery)]

[Progress: 116/500]

Xiangzi gave a wry smile—am I truly born to pull carts?

Just that short stretch had earned 5 experience points.

But what thrilled him more was another line:

[Four-Square Horse Stance +4]

[Progress: 252/500 (Minor Mastery)]

Pulling a cart with stance work was a Harmony puller’s basic skill, countering the ore’s vitality pressure.

Old Ma’s stumble was a sign his vitality couldn’t withstand the five-colored gold ore.

If the mine’s outskirts were “weighted training” for vitality, pulling an ore-laden cart was heavier still, yielding greater results.

At this rate, daily mine runs could bring Great Mastery in stance work within reach!

Xiangzi was reluctant to return the cart.

When Old Ma finally reclaimed it, a sleek black horse kicked up dust, ridden by a middle-aged man in navy silk.

“Old Ma,” Liu Hu reined in, his whip tapping his boot lazily, “starting next week, you’re demoted to the third-class yard.”

Old Ma opened his mouth, coughing up mineral dust, his face ghostly white.

April’s wind carried sand across his wrinkled face.

Without another glance, Liu Hu turned his horse and rode off.

As Fourth Master’s adopted son, Liu Hu’s word was law in the second-class yard.

A puller who couldn’t haul ore had no room to argue.

The pullers froze, their gazes settling on Old Ma’s desolate face.

There was no scorn or disdain—only sympathy, pity, and shared understanding.

Old Ma was old, but who among them wouldn’t age?

Normally, a puller’s blunder would draw jeers from the younger ones.

Today, no one spoke.

Several close to Old Ma patted his thin shoulders as they passed.

As the convoy moved on, Old Ma’s gray head bowed lower.

Xiangzi sighed, grabbing Old Ma’s cart again. “Old Ma, I’ll finish this run for you.”

Old Ma gave a faint hum, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Years in the mineral dust had blackened his hands, cracked like lacquered wood.

“Thanks, Master Xiang,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of joy or sorrow.

He’d likely rehearsed this moment countless times.

Many pullers, seeing Xiangzi’s aid, felt new respect for their lead puller.

When Jin Fugui held the role, kind words were scarce.

But Xiangzi’s steady, mountain-like stride, faster than the veterans, caught calculating eyes.

Jin Fugui and Skinny Monkey exchanged glances, shock flickering in their eyes.

This kid’s only been in the east building a few days?

How’s his vitality so strong?