Chapter 34: The Black Miner Lord

Horse meat is tough, and even when cooked with good sauces, it remains hard to swallow.
It’s easy to enter prosperity, but hard to leave it. ThoughNeo never forgot the difficult times when even a full meal was a struggle, he still couldn’t enjoy eating this dried horse meat. In fact, aside from those fanatics who were obsessively delusional, few in the world could endure hardship without feeling pain—only those skilled in patience, who usually succeeded, seemed to possess this trait.
That Black Miner Lord also had considerable patience. Over several days, he sent three groups of people away, each riding in carriages with escorts, though he himself wasn’t in any of them.
It seemed this guy was too complacent—he personally supervised the shipment of blue iron ore and established contact with an army stationed at the Moroloro Mountain camp. On his return, he even brought back some slaves through connections. He had reaped quite a few benefits, but then things went wrong with Bels, catching him off guard. His strongest enforcers were killed, and naturally, he was terrified. That’s why he used a decoy—unfortunately,Neo had already planned to deal with him. Back in Spoon Valley, he had detected his scent. Though the carriages were well-hidden, they couldn’t conceal his smell.
Neo didn’t want to waste too much time on a Black Miner Lord. After all, the “Chosen One” he was pretending to be, Simon Windblower, had tasks to carry out and couldn’t afford to be delayed too long.
“Wait another day. If this guy still acts like a coward, we’ll deal with him later.”Neo understood the need to eradicate evil completely, but compared to his main plan, avenging Bels was just a side matter. If it weren’t for meeting Jason and the subsequent events,Neo might not have even intended to kill the Black Miner Lord.
“But as the saying goes, you get what you deserve. I really underestimated how low the status of commoners is in the eyes of the rich. They resort to such brutal methods just to crush insects. Well, since you’ve run into me, consider it bad luck for you…”
Clatter! Clatter! The sound of horse hooves came from behind the caravan, with a single rider approaching at high speed.
Many in the caravan grew nervous, gripping their sword handles.
The rider quickly caught up to the caravan. As people watched, they saw he was dressed like a messenger rider, speeding along the road about 20 meters away without any intention of slowing down, which reduced their fear a bit. Still, many kept staring at him until he raced past the caravan by dozens of meters and disappeared into the distance, at which point they finally breathed a sigh of relief.

In their eyes, Bales had risen to the status of a fearsome outlaw. The lack of skilled fighters on their side, coupled with the Black Miner’s cautious strategies, only fueled the creeping fear. In such anxiety, everyone became overly sensitive to even the slightest thing.

“What happened?” The Black Miner asked, pulling back the small window to glance outside. As the speed slowed and they prepared for anything, he could sense something was amiss inside the carriage.

“It’s a messenger on horseback. They’re riding fast—probably bringing more bad news to the stations.”

“Hmm, it seems even during the day we’re no longer safe. Speed up and get back to our own territory; we can figure things out there.” With that, the Black Miner closed the window.

Shortly after,

“Ah!” The Black Miner suddenly felt a sharp pain between his shoulder blades, as if pricked by a steel needle. He managed to reach the painful spot but found nothing unusual. Though strange, after checking thoroughly, he had no choice but to let it go. After all, everything seemed normal afterward, and he didn’t notice anything amiss.

Near noon, the caravan arrived at Camp Site 2. These camps were resting places along major roads, usually in good locations suitable for camping. But the camps in the Hylfanis Relay Valley had a special meaning—numbered 1, 2, and 3. Camp Site 2 meant a successful morning’s journey, and with no major problems in the afternoon, they could easily reach the next relay valley by evening.

A peaceful morning put the Black Miner and his men at ease. Yet another strange incident occurred—a sudden sharp pain in his back, lasting longer this time. Annoyed, he asked one of his men to check it during a break, but again, nothing was found.

“Could it be that all these days of stress have affected my health?” His doubts were quickly interrupted by waves of stomach pain.

“What’s wrong, Miner?” One of his men noticed his unusual expression.

“My stomach hurts. Find me a place—I need to defecate!”

That request was easy to fulfill. After all, defecating in the wild just meant finding any available spot.

Like most people, the Black Miner wasn’t used to doing his business in front of others. So, his bodyguards stood not far away, turned away from him, forming a barrier, while he went about his business with loud noises.

“Miner, did you eat something bad? Did it give you food poisoning?” They exchanged glances and stepped back, covering their noses—the smell was indeed unbearable.

Not only was the smell strong, but this time the Black Miner also took longer to finish. He even tied his belt, but it didn’t work, so he had to continue.

It was then that something terrifying happened to him.

First, he smelled a faint grassy odor. His stomach was in terrible pain, and he was so focused on finishing that he didn’t think about the fact that the ice and snow on the ground hadn’t yet melted—so where could this grassy smell come from? Yet this smell made him dizzy, and his stomach pain lessened. Then, he saw a head suddenly appear in the ground in front of him, looking exactly like him.

The Black Miner’s first reaction was horror. He couldn’t care whether what he saw was a hallucination; he tried to shout, but suddenly realized his body was completely paralyzed and uncontrolled. At that moment, a voice came to his mind, “It’s just a strange dream, a hangover—everything will be fine once you wake up…” It was a ridiculous suggestion, yet it worked. The Black Miner’s eyes lost their brightness, becoming dull and confused. Then, he felt his memories surging like a tide, and it seemed as though someone was stripping him of his clothes. He lacked the will to resist and let them do as they pleased. Even as his body sank into the soil, he thought, “What a strange dream—the ground is like water…” “Come on, help me! Damn it, feels like I’ve pooped my whole life out.” After pooping for over fifteen minutes until he was exhausted and needed help, the Black Miner’s subordinates didn’t dare laugh. They helped their master walk toward the carriage. “Make me some soup or something—not too greasy. Bring it to the carriage; I need to lie down for a while…” The Black Miner’s simple request was easily met. He climbed into the carriage and slumped in the chair. Once the door closed, a strange smile, one he had never worn before, appeared on his lips. More than half an hour later, a soup made of lean meat was brought. Its aroma stirred his appetite. After taking a few sips, he handed it away. “I need to sleep. Don’t disturb me unless it’s time to leave.” “Okay, Miner.” The door closed again. This time, it seemed no one would disturb him for a long time. In the world of consciousness, not only was Nancy there, but also his “accomplices,” Thorn and Prick. “Was it worth going through all this trouble to play the Black Miner?” Thorn didn’t understand Neo’s actions. Earlier that morning, Neo had disguised himself as a messenger to draw the Black Miner’s guards’ attention, while Thorn rode on a young alien rhododendron to Neo’s location in the Black Miner’s carriage. The Black Miner’s first pain in his back came from Thorn drawing blood from him using the alien rhododendron. Later, a vine containing the Black Miner’s blood fell to the ground and was delivered to Neo by Prick, who was waiting on a falcon rhododendron. With the blood sample, Neo activated the energy therapy chamber and transformed his appearance, changing from Bels to the Black Miner. The Black Miner’s second bout of pain was caused by Thorn administering drugs to him, explaining his abdominal cramps and diarrhea. After that, a miraculous transformation took place. The Death Vine’s soil-loosening ability had improved, but it still took over ten minutes to prepare the area where the Black Miner had pooped. Then, Neo’s newly acquired potion took effect again. The Black Miner was an ordinary person whose willpower couldn’t resist the potion’s influence. Neo took the opportunity to steal his memories. The real Black Miner was then pulled underground by the Death Vine and buried, while the naked Neo put on the Black Miner’s clothes and completed the transformation right in front of his subordinates.

“Human behavior is far more complex than that of other creatures,” Neo explained to Spine. “For someone wealthy or powerful like the Black Miner, mere death doesn’t solve everything. His wealth or power can still cause problems—even after he dies, some mechanism may still remain or start functioning.”
“Like the traps left behind by the Archmage in the mage tower?” Thorne asked.
“Something like that.”
At that moment, Nancy spoke up: “Neo’s concerns were valid. I checked the Black Miner’s memories—he indeed had a revenge plan in place. As long as he was alive, the plan would activate.”
“That problem should have been solved by now,” Neo asked.
“Indeed, but not for too long. The curse placed on the Black Miner can’t be broken, and his life signs can only be sustained for less than a month, unless you plan to dig him out of the ground and constantly supply him with life energy.”
Neo smiled. “It won’t take that long. Seven days—by the time the energy treatment chamber is ready to be used again, I’ll have sorted things out. Without any funds, I doubt his revenge plan can be carried out at all.” …
Returning from a state of deep meditation to reality, Neo began to examine the Black Miner, Gusby’s body carefully.
Gusby weighed over 220 pounds and was middle-aged. Though he took care of himself regularly, he still had some excess weight. Fortunately, Neo’s human form was 2 centimeters taller than Gusby’s, reaching 184 centimeters, so he didn’t appear overly bulky. As for Neo taking on his form, it was merely relative cell proliferation.
The term “cell proliferation” was a new word Neo had heard from Nancy. There were many similar terms, which made Neo realize that perhaps the knowledge Nancy already possessed was enough for him to learn for a while, without needing to search the world for so-called experts.
Gusby’s skin was particularly fair, with large pores. He had deep-set eyes, high brows, a straight nose, thick hair and beard, and blue eyes—typical of a McCarthy (white) person. If not for years of a comfortable lifestyle, he would have looked more like a warrior rather than a heartless miner obsessed with money.
“It feels like wearing well-fitting heavy leather armor,” Neo said, stretching his arms and legs. This was his private conversation with Nancy.
“In fact, it does serve a similar purpose to heavy leather armor. Even if your skin is torn or you get injured and bleed, it causes almost no harm to you.”
Neo tugged at his flesh. “That’s exactly what fascinates me. It feels like real flesh, and there’s no obstruction to energy transmission, yet it’s not part of my true body.”
“That’s an advantage brought by your own body’s traits. Werewolves can transform, and their cell tissues have great plasticity. All I need to do is compress your true body mass, which is actually beneficial for your physical training. Elevating the core and radiating outward—this is how things like Multi-Faced Alien Fernwork work, and it applies to you too. So, my personal advice is that you lose weight to reduce the burden on your physical training as much as possible.”

Neo pondered for a moment before saying, “It sounds good, but do I need to transform into a werewolf to do this too?”
“That’s exactly the point,” Nancy said in her usual academic tone. “Werewolf transformation can be seen as a complete enhancement of physical strength. Its essence lies in releasing the power stored in the werewolf’s body cells, sometimes even to the point of overexertion, which is why werewolves can only remain in their wolf form for a limited time. As for those like the Wild Werewolves who can maintain their werewolf state for long periods, aside from forcibly boosting their metabolic rate to a level that’s harmful to their bodies in the long run, they essentially create a body similar to dead muscle, at the cost of explosive power and physical tension.”
“Releasing power to enhance strength—many magical armors can also achieve this effect. You must have heard of it; they store ambient energy and release it when needed.”
Neo replied, “Indeed. I was once very interested in creating such armors. But later I learned that it requires a magician’s involvement—engraving magic circles and casting spells—so I gave up on it.”
Nancy said proudly, “What I know about physical transformation serves a similar purpose in some ways. To put it plainly, it’s not a particularly valuable skill. Let’s not discuss that. There will surely come a day when we can decipher its principles. What I’m trying to say is that you can divide your body into inner and outer layers. The inner layer is the part that undergoes ‘weight loss’ and careful training—that’s your true self. Transformations like becoming a werewolf or changing form can be seen as the outer layer, which can be shaped as needed, just like magical armor.”
Neo’s eyes lit up. “So, in fact, I don’t need to transform to achieve a similar effect, and it might not even be weaker than when I truly transform.”
“That’s just theory. In reality, I can’t provide you with that level of support yet. Even enhancing strength like with magical armor is a complex and time-consuming process. With my current energy reserves, it’s impossible to carry out such transformations.”
“It seems my strength is really too weak!” Neo felt a bit depressed. Sometimes he envied those famous geniuses who, before the age of 20, were already at level 15. He didn’t even know what they were made of or how they trained—it was simply too amazing.
“It’s not just your fault. The energy therapy chamber isn’t powered by human effort. Unless you can find or calculate the energy formula, it’s hard to achieve 100% effectiveness. If you could do it on your own, it would mean you possess divine-level power, and then the existence of the energy therapy chamber would become meaningless.”
Neo was speechless. After a long while, he said, “I want to maximize its effectiveness through hard work, but by the time I can, it might no longer be needed. This is truly a frustrating situation.”
“There are many such situations in life!”
“Seems so. I’ve seen a guy who tried to change himself to win over a girl—getting rid of his bad habits and consciously developing his strengths. When he succeeded, he realized that even without pursuing that girl, there were plenty of good girls around willing to be with him.”

“So, external forces are merely tools to change oneself. Only improving oneself is the foundation of everything. Just like me—if you can’t truly become strong, you’ll eventually go from being a master to an unwitting slave under my control. Even if I don’t intend to do this, it will happen over time.”
“Divine artifacts and sacred relics can provide power, but one must always remember where one’s true origin lies. Thank you for your advice.”
“You’re welcome. My purpose is to assist, as destined from the very beginning. If I have any desire for comparison, it’s only that I hope my master is strong enough—naturally, I wouldn’t be inferior to any other of my kind.”
Neo said, “These words have been said before, but this time, they feel even more profound. Let’s grow stronger together. That’s the foundation of everything.”
“I’m already doing that.”
Neo smiled nonchalantly. “In that case, the powers of transformation are just means after all. So, what effects can you provide now?”
“Increased cell toughness, denser cell arrangement, altered cell structure… Simply put, artificial armor that makes one tough and resilient. It’s called ‘Troll Transformation.’”
“Trolls…”
“A species that has been extinct for tens of thousands of years,” Nancy briefly explained the physical characteristics of this creature.
Neo was amazed. “Such powerful creatures—how did they go extinct?”
“They had strong bodies but low intelligence. Besides, they feared fire and acid.”
“And this Troll Transformation of mine?”
“It also fears those things. After all, it’s a low-level transformation, so imperfections are normal. But I object to you trying to combine potions with runes, as that could somewhat mitigate these obvious weaknesses.”
“Great. I don’t even need to hire a potion tester or rune examiner—I can handle it all myself. I can just keep experimenting on myself whenever I want!” Though he spoke with self-deprecating humor, Neo was actually very optimistic about Troll Transformation. After all, his main focus was immortality—powerful regeneration plus cellular armor—making it an excellent combination for immortality. Add in straightforward combat techniques, and what more could such a muscular brute want?
In high spirits, Neo began to examine the interior of the carriage. It still took some time to organize Gusby, the black ore lord’s memories. As agreed with Nancy, she would only provide him with key information, while she could give him immediate guidance when needed for improvisation. This way, he wouldn’t have to bear too much mental load. After all, Neo knew that some actors spent a lot of time immersing themselves in their roles, eventually becoming so engrossed that they lost track of reality—something he didn’t need.
Gusby was in what was currently popular as a ‘single-person room,’ with the door on the rear side. The most prominent feature inside was a long bed, large enough for a burly man like Gusby to sleep comfortably. The carriage originally had large windows on the side of the long passage next to the bed, but Gusby had them temporarily sealed with wooden planks, leaving the interior lit only by crystal lamps.

“It’s a pity we can’t hire an armored vehicle; otherwise, it wouldn’t be easy for Thorns to get in,” thought Neo as he casually sealed the hole in the back corner of the vehicle. That hole, as thin as a little finger, was the passage created by the Alien Camphor. Basically, as long as the Core Vine could pass through a hole, the Alien Camphor could find a way to change its shape and pass through easily. Of course, such transformation required the control of an intelligent being like Thorns—since the Alien Camphor itself hadn’t yet developed enough intelligence. In this regard, it was far inferior to Duanmian.

Perhaps due to regulatory restrictions, the vehicle Gusby used was of average quality, and the interior wasn’t very luxurious, but it was comfortable enough. Neo hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for days, and now, with cheap underlings attending to him, it was the perfect time to get some rest.

He didn’t know how long he had slept when he heard someone knocking on the door: “Miner, miner!”

Neo sat up and found the vehicle stopped. With Nancy’s guidance, he imitated Gusby’s tone and said irritably, “What? Have we arrived already?”

The voice outside spoke cautiously and obsequiously, “No, something happened ahead. We need your decision.”

Opening the door, Neo got out in his loose robe. When he saw what had happened ahead, even his composure couldn’t help but leave him stunned. A fissure over 150 feet wide and stretching as far as the eye could see lay across the road ahead. Looking down from the edge of the fissure, he saw darkness below, along with a foul-smelling wind rising—its depth unknown.

It wasn’t just their group whose path was blocked; two other groups had already set up temporary camps not far away. A group of patrol riders was communicating with their counterparts across from them. From what they said, the fissure seemed to have appeared around noon that day.

“Miner, what should we do?”

Neo glanced at the sky and said grimly, “Going back now would definitely be too late. But the appearance of this fissure is strange—something feels very wrong. Retreat, set up camp two miles back.”