In the eastern continent, within the Ninth Empire, a stretch of wilderness lies the Linta Region.

  December's harsh winter, relentless and unforgiving, continues its habitual assault on this southernmost territory of the empire.

  The biting cold wind races across the snow-clad wilderness, where sparse, withered yellow grasses have long surrendered, adorned with frost as they bow in loyalty to the harsh winter, swaying under the dawn of the cold season.

  Only a few tall trees, despite their withered and barren state, stand proudly against the frosty landscape, defiantly awaiting the arrival of spring.

  In a corner of the wilderness stands a mine. Roads made of gravel and ash stretch out from the open-pit mine. Scattered around are dark ores, staining the pristine snow.

  A few rudimentary wooden houses are sparsely situated around the mining area.

  Armed guards from the consortium, stationed at makeshift posts, idly smoke their cigarettes.

  Within the mine, a few withered medicinal herbs are laid out to dry on a polished stone. A calloused hand picks them up, holding them under the feeble winter sunlight to carefully examine their veins and hues.

  The boy holding the herbs appears to be sixteen or seventeen years old, wrapped in a thick, furry coat with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His face, dusted with a bit of gray and black, is flushed purple from the cold.

  Yet, from his sculpted, chiseled features, it's easy to discern that he is quite a handsome young man.

  As Aaron examines the herbs, his eyes brighten, and a subtle smile forms at the corner of his lips. He carefully places the herbs into a wooden box he carries with him.

  "Young Master, are you heading down to the mine today?" a voice calls out.

  Aaron turns to see a mine guard not far away, waving at him. The guard is armed, wearing gloves and a coat custom-made by the Rhine Consortium.

  "Yes, I'm heading down right away!" Aaron replies, placing the wooden box into his backpack and striding towards the mine entrance.

  At the entrance, a crowd gathers.

  The bell signaling the assembly of the mine slaves rings piercingly.

  Around forty to fifty individuals, clad in shabby coats stained with soot and wearing cheap snow boots, converge from all directions, their expressions vacant as they gather at the mine entrance. Each carries a wooden basket and a spade.

  Just as Aaron arrives at the gathering spot, he hears curses being shouted.

  "Move faster, you bunch of empire failures, worthless slaves!"

  "Who are you showing those deadpan faces to? You damned, foolish swine!"

  "Quick, quick, quick, get moving! Don’t be slow like an old lady with bound feet!"

  "It's eight o'clock now. By six in the evening, anyone who hasn't met the quota of ores will find this to be their last winter, I swear! Now, grab your lunch and get into the mine!"

  Guards belonging to the Rhine Consortium, wielding sticks or whips, shout harshly with fierce expressions.

  In the distance, a guard positioned at a vantage point smokes a cigarette, the heavy artillery aimed at the mine slaves.

  Aaron averts his gaze and stands quietly at the back of the crowd.

  Twenty years ago, following the failure of the thirteenth expedition to the Western Continent, the elite corps crafted with the full might of the Ninth Empire was crushed under the siege of forces affiliated with the Church.

  This marked the empire's thousand-year reign nearing the brink of losing control over various regions.

  Across the vast expanse of the empire, many regions, due to geographical, cultural, climatic, and ethnic factors, are highly insular and relatively independent.

  Local indigenous powers entrenched in their territories have grown by leeching off resources, snowballing into colossal entities known as Consortiums.

  Hospitals, schools, businesses, energy, cemeteries...

  For ordinary people, from birth to death, they cannot escape the grasp of the local consortium.

  A severe illness can devastate an average family, plunging them into debt, ultimately forcing them to serve under the consortium—those with capability become its minions, while the less fortunate are reduced to slavery.

  Each consortium controls all economic lifelines within their region, with the only potential counterbalance being the local imperial tax department.

  Unfortunately, those tax officials, much like the contemporary emperor—akin to a toothless, spine-broken lion post-expedition failure—are solely interested in tax collection, remaining indifferent to public welfare issues.

  This has led to consortiums becoming increasingly brazen in recent years.

  These entities, seeking to maximize profits, have to some extent propelled the empire's mechanization progress. However, this doesn't mean they would relent in their exploitation of the lower classes.

  Take the mine before us as an example, where a variety of sophisticated machinery has already depleted its resources. Yet consortium managers still deploy a large number of slaves for final explorations, seeking any negligible gains left behind in the corners.

  After all, to them, it's merely a matter of expending some cheap, worthless slaves. A piece of ore is far more valuable than a slave, isn't it?

  As Rhine Consortium guards shout and hit, the previously numb crowd starts to stir.

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  It’s not a rebellion, but a scramble as they jostle each other, eager to rush into the mine. Getting in first means reaching deeper into the pit first, making it easier to find some ores that have escaped the machines and are left in corners.

  This means they can live another day without being beaten.

  As for the future... who cares?

  "Move faster, you worthless bunch... Oh, excuse me, Young Master, I don't mean you. You don't have to go down," a guard, full of emotion and constantly yelling, notices Aaron waiting in line for the mine and offers an apologetic smile.

  Slaves are seen as lowly, worthless, and disposable, but this perception doesn’t include Aaron. Although he is a slave, he is a valuable one—a pharmacist.

  Yes, a pharmacist.

  Who knows how an empire elite ends up in a place like this? The young guard curls his lips.

  Because of Aaron's presence, his insults towards the slaves are more restrained.

  The consortium's exploitation and persecution of the worthless lower class are indeed notorious.

  However, their respect for valuable talents is unquestionable.

  Those consortiums that only mindlessly and relentlessly squeeze the remaining value from the populace have long vanished into the dust of history.

  "Thank you for your kindness, but as a mine slave, going down is my duty," Aaron replies with a sincere, simple smile, squinting his eyes.

  Beside him, a boy of similar age squeezes in next to Aaron and pats his shoulder. They exchange glances and, together with the other mine slaves, head towards the mine entrance.

  The spotlight above, along with the incandescent lamps on the mine walls, dispels the darkness within the tunnel.

  Aaron navigates deeper, relying on his memory of the route. As they go further in, the lack of ventilation causes various odors to ferment in the air—sweat, dust, dampness, and a sticky staleness—making it hard to breathe.

  The two of them reach a secluded spot. Twist, taller than Aaron by half a head, has a large frame, and his bulky, dirty winter clothes make him look like a black bear.

  Both are orphans who grew up in an orphanage. After it closed, they wandered the streets for years before being sold to the Rhine Consortium by traffickers, eventually ending up here as mine slaves, sticking together for support.

  Twist scans the surroundings with a wary gaze. Once certain they are alone, he uses a spade to dig into a crevice, revealing dozens of dark, silver-specked ores. His expression shows relief.

  These are the Mystery Tungsten Ores the slaves are tasked to find.

  "Aaron, no one's been here!" Twist says.

  "Yeah, but these ores won't last for many more rounds. Let's hope our plan goes smoothly!" Aaron replies, glancing around to ensure no one else has been there.

  "Plan... we'll take it one step at a time! By the way, have you finished brewing the potion?" Twist asks, rubbing his hands together with anticipation.

  Two years ago, a pharmacist arrived at the mine, reportedly a casualty of factional struggles within the consortium, sent here as a result of being on the losing side. He was called Master Rhine.

  Aaron and Twist deliberately ingratiated themselves with him, helping to find ores and attending to his daily needs, in exchange for some knowledge of potion-making.

  Twist showed no interest in the intricate and complex potion-making knowledge, finding it as incomprehensible as reading a foreign script.

  In contrast, Aaron displayed a natural talent. The knowledge seemed to take root effortlessly in his mind with just a glance, which astonished this pharmacist, prompting him to teach Aaron some foundational potion-making skills.

  Unfortunately, Aaron only grasped the basics before Master Rhine was assassinated on a starless night.

  Aaron suspects it was due to internal conflicts within Rhine Consortium, with Master Rhine being on the losing side.

  Someone sends him to this remote mine might have been an attempt to spare his life, but others evidently wanted him dead, pursuing him to the end.

  Of course, Aaron has no interest in the specifics and no intention of avenging Master Rhine.

  After all, he is just a mine slave—a lucky one who happened to learn some potion-making skills by chance.

  "Yes, I managed to make two doses," Aaron says, taking out two packets of powder from his backpack and handing one to Twist.

  Strictly speaking, the powder Aaron holds isn't a true potion. Genuine potion-making requires a highly precise laboratory setup. What he has is a low-grade, inferior semi-finished product. To some discerning pharmacists, it might not even qualify as that.

  Aaron pours the powder into his mouth, holding it there before taking a small sip from his water bottle. Instead of swallowing, he swishes the liquid around like a mouthwash, ensuring the powder dissolves completely before gulping it down.

  This is a semi-finished version of the force potion, designed to help individuals better sense and absorb the force.

  In the ongoing, age-old war between the Empire and the Church across the eastern and western continents, citizens at the bottom rung of society have only a few paths to rise above the consortium's oppression: they can either become force adept by sensing and absorbing the force or become pharmacists.

  Powerful force adept possess superhuman abilities, capable of battling the Church’s beasts and insect swarms.

  pharmacists, on the other hand, use their extensive knowledge of the myriad herbs found in the wilderness to concoct mysterious potions.

  This era is defined by war, force adept and pharmacists shine as some of the brightest stars in the sky of their time.

  After taking the potion, Twist pulls out a yellowed book titled "Thousand Weight Technique."

  This is the most widely circulated basic force cultivation method within the Empire. The imperial family and various consortiums use the Thousand Weight Technique to identify young individuals with potential for cultivation.

  Those who can sense and cultivate the force with this technique are given special training and opportunities.

  Those who cannot are destined to remain at the bottom of society, growing up to work in companies according to their abilities, contributing their small part to the Empire's prosperity and the luxury of the upper class.

  After a long while, Aaron opens his eyes, a hint of disappointment flickering in them.

  He didn't have to come down to the mine, but he sought a quiet place to cultivate, so he joined the descent.

  Unfortunately, while he excels in potion-making, he struggles with force cultivation.

  As Aaron rises, Twist opens his eyes as well, his expression blank.

  "Did you manage to cultivate the force?" Aaron asks, unable to contain his curiosity.

  "No," Twist replies, shaking his head.

  Aaron pats his shoulder. "Well, that makes me feel a bit better."

  Twist shoots him an annoyed glance.

  As the time seems right, the two pack up their things and prepare to leave. Twist fills his basket to the brim with Mystery Tungsten Ore, while Aaron only places a few pieces inside, just for show.

  Walking along the mine shaft, Twist remains vigilant, casually asking, "Has your headache flared up recently?"

  Aaron rubs his face, feeling incredibly frustrated. "Not yet, but I think it's about to."

  He's suffered from intermittent headaches since childhood, and as he's grown older, the frequency and intensity have only increased. Recently, he's even fainted from the pain.

  "I wouldn't be surprised if one day I die from a headache," Aaron jokes bitterly.

  The knowledge of a pharmacist is vast and varied, and every pharmacist is also a competent doctor.

  Aaron has found several herbs that supposedly treat headaches, but none have helped. This mysterious ailment continues to torment him, making him feel like he's living a fate worse than death.

  Suddenly, the quiet of the mine shaft is broken by the sound of boots scraping against loose gravel. Both Aaron and Twist halt, staring ahead with caution. The mine's tunnels are a labyrinth, and up ahead is a junction with another passageway.

  The air grows still.

  Aaron and Twist exchange a glance, neither moving, both keeping their eyes on the intersection.

  A few minutes pass before a figure emerges from the other tunnel. It's a young miner with dark skin, who, upon seeing Aaron, waves excitedly.

  "Young Master!"

  In the mine, workers and guards often suffer from injuries or ailments. After Master Rhine came here and helped many, he was respectfully called " Master."

  Following his departure, Aaron, who inherited his skills, adeptly handles the common people's illnesses and is respectfully addressed as "Young Master."

  However, how much of this respect is genuine is uncertain.

  "Oh! Wayne! Are you heading back too?" Aaron asks with a smile.

  "Yes! I was lucky today and found enough ore early. Let's head back together and get out of this dreadful place!" Wayne replies, stepping aside and adjusting the basket full of ore on his back.