The Paladin in the Abyss

Standing by the hot spring, Lancelot twisted and turned to check himself.

His body seemed younger, his skin finer and smoother, with all previous wrinkles vanished.

Perhaps it was due to just having taken a hot bath, his skin was slightly red, more akin to the color of Abyss creatures.

Dressed and armored, Lancelot performed several jumps and dodging maneuvers where he stood.

True Qi naturally surged from his Dantian, spreading throughout his meridians, enhancing his strength, speed, and agility. After several movements, Lancelot felt quite relaxed, almost as if he wasn't wearing armor at all.

He then picked up his weapon lying beside him and swung it through the air a few times. The previously somewhat heavy great sword now felt much lighter in his hands, making the whooshing sound it would only make when swung with full force.

Lancelot was sure his strength had increased by at least thirty percent.

"I'll have to find a way to get another one later,"

he muttered to himself. The demon who wielded two great axes had left a deep impression on him, and despite not wanting to admit it, the image of swinging two two-handed weapons was undeniably cool.

He also tried the various wonderful uses of True Qi mentioned on the bamboo slips: concentrating True Qi in his eyes, his vision greatly improved, clearly seeing the leg hairs of an ant passing by the cave entrance; focusing True Qi on his fingertips, his fingers became incredibly sharp, easily poking a hole in a rock; gathering True Qi at his nostrils...

He successfully blocked his sense of smell, and the unpleasant odors in the air miraculously disappeared.

The world's first Paladin sat down once more, meticulously checking his body's condition.

Small streams of True Qi flowed slowly through his meridians, while the Qi Sea inside him was half-full.

A thought crossed Lancelot's mind; according to the records on the bamboo slip, he already had the characteristics of the Great Perfection at the initial stage of the Qi Refinement Realm.

"The bamboo slip says that reaching Great Perfection at the initial stage takes at least a month, so why has my progress been so rapid?"

After some thought, Lancelot felt it was related to his own condition.

First, he was already a high rank knight with a strong physical body, and long-term military training had resulted in substantial accumulation in his body; second, the Elves' blessing might have had some mysterious effect on his body, enhancing his affinity with the power of heaven and earth; and third, a common person would only perform four or five Heavenly Cycles per cultivation session, while he completed forty-nine Heavenly Cycles, the maximum, on his first sensation of Qi, absorbing a large amount of Innate Qi, naturally leading to extraordinary effects.

Considering these three factors combined, he was able to make such rapid progress. However, the accumulation of physical strength and absorption of Innate Qi were one-time effects, and his future cultivation speed will likely not differ much from that of an average person.

Let's talk about the future later.

The night had passed, and the dying sun had reemerged on the horizon of the Abyssal world.

Lancelot had packed his bags and, summoning his black warhorse, once again set off on his journey toward the mountaintop.

------------------

From the foot of the mountain, the Shattered Mountain Range loomed incomparably high, but when you climbed to the summit, you would be amazed to find a vast expanse of flat land at the top, as if a deity had sheared off the peak.

To say the land was flat was not entirely accurate, because upon closer inspection, one would discover that the area was littered with abandoned mines. The Demons, who never considered the consequences of their actions, had dug the place so full of holes that it was difficult to traverse.

Demons were not particularly interested in wealth, but they zealously pursued anything that could make their destructive powers even stronger, which included metals.

In one of the newer mines at the edge, the clinking and clanking of Cross Pickaxes echoed from within. Several Dwarves were trudging up the narrow paths along the edge of the mine, carrying bags of ore on their backs.

Though Dwarves were known for their love of digging, the occasional falling whip and the iron chains around their necks made it clear they were not working there of their own free will.

Demons occasionally sought out metal ores on their own to forge suitable weapons and armor. However, organizing a team composed solely of Demons to extract ores on a large scale for a Lord of the Abyss's legion was impractical.

Therefore, the Demons typically enslaved other races for these strenuous and dull tasks.

Each Dwarf was a natural expert in mining and crafting weapons and armor. But their keen interest in delving deep into the earth had a terrifying side effect—deep underground, where magma flowed and space was unstable, natural portals to the Abyss that could only maintain for a short duration would occasionally form. Beyond these portals often lay rare veins of ore, and inexperienced Dwarves could easily stray into them, only to be captured by the Demons (if they weren't eaten on the spot).

The Demons themselves lacked the capability (or patience?) to process high-grade metals, so Abyssal Lords had a constant high demand for Dwarves, making them one of the larger populations of foreign races in the Abyss.

Most Dwarves lived a life of subjugation, engaged in mining, forging, or maintaining weaponry and equipment where a craft was required. But in the Abyss, the death rate of slave masters was not much lower than that of their slaves, given the frequent and bloody wars among the Demons. And, given the opportunity, the Dwarves' Cross Pickaxes were just as effective against Demon skulls as they were against ore, so the Abyss was not without its Dwarf adventurers. Their bodies, strengthened by years of working in mines and at forges, were robust enough to shatter the knee bones of any creature.

Incidentally, the most numerous of the foreign creatures in the Abyss were the Goblins. Despite long-standing beliefs to the contrary, they were indeed not natives of the Abyss.

Atop the mine, a Demon overseer stood in place.

It was a creature that could only appear in a mortal's nightmares, slightly larger than the average human, with the lower half resembling a fly, equipped with four insect-like slender legs that allowed it to cling to nearly vertical surfaces. Its upper body was human-like, with almost no muscles, sprouting two pairs of transparent wings, and its long arms ended in insect claws, brandishing a whip. Its head was a combination of a fly and a mosquito, with a long pointed mouth and large compound eyes that afforded it a wide field of vision. Combined with its wings and its climbing-suited limbs, this type of Demon was a natural overseer.

It used its compound eyes to surveil the entire mining site from above, occasionally screeching orders for the Demon guards to whip any unfortunate caught slacking off.

The guards at this place were a type of demon with human shapes that resembled toads, sporting burly limbs, backs covered in growths and spikes, gaping mouths filled with sharp teeth, and an overwhelmingly foul stench that could induce fainting.

They were among the few demons in the Abyss whose stupidity rivaled that of the Coward Devils. They were Berserk Demons, but most inhabitants of the Abyss preferred to call them Toad Demons or Frog Demons, or Demon Toads.

Owing to their decent combat abilities and tiny brains that were only slightly smarter than those of the abyssal worms, the High Rank Demons often easily deceived them into serving their own purposes—acting as foot soldiers in the vanguard, overseers of slaves, or, when necessary, forcing them to do hard labor by promising them half of the spoils from the next war (should they survive).

The group of Dwarves in the mine had been working tirelessly for a very long time, and no matter how much they feared the lash of the whip, their bodies inevitably began to slow down.

Suddenly, an old Dwarf with a gray beard slipped, and, unable to maintain his balance with the basket full of ore on his back, he rolled down the steep mine shaft and crashed heavily at the bottom of the pit.

"Dad!"

A young Dwarf, who had been swinging a Cross Pickaxe, cried out in alarm. He dropped his tool and ran over, kneeling by the fallen old Dwarf, cradling him in his arms.

"Bastards! Get back to work digging stones immediately!"

The humanoid fly overseer let out an irate screech, its voice piercingly shrill, causing every demon and Dwarf present to instinctively cover their ears.

"What are you waiting for, go whip him! Make him continue working!"

The humanoid fly screeched at a demon guard at the bottom of the pit.

The Berserk Demon scratched his ear and, brandishing the whip, walked toward the Dwarf.

"He's the best blacksmith in Rivet Fort! You imbeciles have him slaving away!"

The Dwarf shouted angrily, only to be met with the lashing whip from the Berserk Demon's hand, falling like raindrops.

"Ah ah ah!"

The Dwarf screamed, half from the pain wracking his body and half from the humiliation. But his hands remained firmly planted on the ground, never reaching up to protect his head, for he wanted to shield his father from the lashes with his own body.

"Go back, work."

The whipping finally ceased, and the Berserk Demon bared his wide mouth, spitting out two words.

"Go on, my boy." The old Dwarf regained consciousness and spoke. "Your dad here isn't dead yet."

The young Dwarf, holding back tears, stood up. He gave the ugly humanoid toad a glare filled with hatred from the corner of his eye and, with his head bowed, walked towards the Cross Pickaxe he had thrown to the ground.

The sound of the whip crackled behind him again, and he instinctively crouched, hands covering his head, trying to fend off the terrible blows.

But the sound of the whipping continued, and the anticipated pain did not come.

He looked up in confusion, and the scene before him made his eyes instantly bloodshot.

The Berserk Demon was still swinging his whip, lashing at the old Dwarf, incessantly repeating the words "go back," "work," while the old Dwarf, eyes tightly shut, had passed out from the beating.

"I'll fight you all!"

Something long suppressed finally erupted. The young Dwarf let out a roar of rage, charging at the Berserk Demon with all his might, like a cannonball shot from its cannon.

The ugly toad demon turned his sluggish head just in time to be met with a full embrace from the charging young Dwarf. He flew backwards as if hit by a great hammer, crashing heavily against the wall.

The young Dwarf knelt on the ground, shaking the old, unconscious Dwarf desperately, crying out with a choking voice:

"Dad, wake up, please wake up!"

"Roar!"

The flung toad demon staggered to his feet, letting out an angry roar. The Berserk Demon might have been a simpleton, but his physical prowess was not merely for show.

It bared a terrifying grin. Guard duties were too boring; battle was more in line with its nature.

The young Dwarf picked up the Cross Pickaxe from the ground and turned to face the Berserk Demon.

His figure was unexpectedly tall, perhaps because he was standing straight; he seemed to tower above the other Dwarves.

All the Berserk Demons around the mine looked on, but they had no intention of intervening. Instead, they prepared to watch this rare duel unfold, for this was the most favored form of entertainment in the Abyss.

The show was about to begin.