Chapter 68: The Construction of Spiritual Civilization, Driving the Golden Core Mad!
Early the next morning, before dawn had fully broken, the entire Heishan Mining Area was jolted awake by a burst of loud, passionate music.
The music was Chu Feng’s “Song of Ascension.”
Its melody was simple, the rhythm infectious—an almost demonic tune that made the blood boil.
All the miners were required to assemble in the mining square to attend what was called a “Morning Mobilization Conference.”
Zhao Wuji stood on a hastily built high platform, his face ashen, clutching the speech in his hand so tightly that the veins bulged on the back of it.
He hadn’t slept a wink all night.
He was a Golden Core cultivator—his Dao heart should have been rock-solid—yet this thin piece of beast skin had tortured him to the brink of collapse.
He had thought about rebelling, thought about throwing the whole thing away.
But—did he dare?
He looked down from the platform and saw the burly tower-like Zhang Daniu leading a team of “security guards,” maintaining order with a stern expression.
He had no doubt that if he dared utter even a single word of refusal, Zhang Daniu would be the first to rush up and give him an “affectionate hug” to calm him down.
He, a dignified Golden Core cultivator, was now cowering before a group of Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment “security guards”!
He remembered Chu Feng’s smiling face and the words, “Don’t let me down.”
He knew this was another “obedience test” from Chu Feng.
If he messed this up, his position as “Director” would be as good as gone.
By then, never mind salary or bonuses—whether he could even remain within the Qingyun Sect’s territory would be in question.
“Director, it’s your turn! Show some spirit!”
From below, Zhang Daniu mouthed exaggeratedly to cheer him on.
Zhao Wuji took a deep breath, feeling only despair fill his lungs.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were hollow and lifeless.
He picked up a strange-looking sound amplification artifact—Chu Feng’s special creation—a “microphone,” powered by spiritual energy, and walked to the front of the stage.
In a voice so dry and hoarse it was almost worse than crying, he read out the first words written on the script.
“Dear… beloved… Ascension family members…”
His voice was low and filled with struggle.
“Louder, Director! We can’t hear you!”
Zhang Daniu led the heckling from below.
“Yes! Louder!”
The miners echoed him, laughing and shouting, purely for the fun of seeing the former Sect Master make a fool of himself.
Zhao Wuji’s body trembled, veins bulging on his neck. He gave up all resistance and roared at the top of his lungs:
“Good morning, everyone!”
“GOOD MORNING!”
Hundreds of voices thundered in unison, shaking the air.
With that first shout, the rest seemed easier.
Zhao Wuji slipped into a zombie-like state, mechanically and loudly reading every line from the script.
“A new day! A new beginning!”
“Are you ready to burn with passion for our shared dream?!”
“READY!”
Zhang Daniu led the crowd’s response, and the atmosphere became feverishly high.
Zhao Wuji’s throat went dry; his mind went blank, filled only with those shameful slogans echoing endlessly.
……
On a distant hillside, Murong Xue stood silently, taking it all in.
She watched the almost deranged Zhao Wuji on stage, and the flushed, fired-up miners below, her expression complicated.
Absurd.
Utterly absurd.
A Golden Core cultivator, a man who once founded his own Sect, was being forced to act like a clown.
Chu Feng’s methods had far surpassed her understanding of “evil.”
This wasn’t killing.
Nor was it breaking someone’s heart.
It was something far more terrifying—crushing a person’s dignity and perception from within, then remolding them according to his will—spiritual “reconstruction.”
Yet what confused her even more was the sight of those miners.
Though they were shouting foolish slogans, their eyes—were bright.
That was a light born from hope for the future.
They were happier, healthier, earning more, and somehow living with greater dignity (albeit of another kind).
Everything she had done had made the mining area safer and more efficient.
And everything Zhao Wuji was now doing… seemed to be making this collective more energetic.
She and he—one righteous, one fallen; one a former Sect Master, one a Saintess—were both, in their own ways, helping Chu Feng’s “den of demons” become increasingly prosperous.
What… exactly was this?
Just then, the “morning meeting” entered its next segment.
Expressionless, Zhao Wuji announced:
“Next, I declare the official start of the Ascension Group Heishan Mining Area’s First ‘Team Building’ Event—the ‘Strive Forward Bravely’ Tunnel-Digging Friendship Competition!”
“The winning team will receive one whole roasted spirit pig and three jars of century-old spirit wine as rewards!”
“Boom!”
As soon as the rewards were announced, the miners went wild!
Roasted spirit pig! Century-old spirit wine!
That was a heavenly prize!
Everyone’s enthusiasm erupted instantly—knuckles cracking, eyes gleaming with battle intent.
Watching the scene, Zhao Wuji felt nothing inside—only a faint urge to laugh.
He thought he might truly be going insane.
When the mobilization ended, Zhao Wuji walked off the stage like a puppet drained of all energy.
And then—he saw Murong Xue.
Their eyes met.
In Murong Xue’s clear gaze, Zhao Wuji saw a trace of… sympathy? Or perhaps… understanding?
In that instant, the taut string in Zhao Wuji’s heart snapped.
He wasn’t breaking down—he had simply… figured it out.
Or rather—accepted his fate.
Instead of being passively toyed with by this devil, why not actively throw himself into this absurd game?
At least that way, he would seem less like a fool.
That afternoon, Murong Xue was in her office, reviewing newly submitted “safety proposals,” when someone knocked on the door.
Zhao Wuji walked in.
The numbness and pain from that morning were gone from his face, replaced by an eerie calm.
He bowed deeply to Murong Xue.
“Chairwoman Murong.”
Murong Xue looked up, surprised, setting down the jade slip in her hand.
“Director Zhao, what is this about?”
Zhao Wuji lifted his head, his gaze steady and firm, and said word by word:
“I wish to submit a proposal to you.”
“A proposal concerning myself… and the entire management team’s ‘Performance Improvement and Career Development Plan.’”