Golden Dragon: Six Thousand Years of Empire-Chapter 470 - 283: The Supreme Great Lord Who Does Odd Jobs

Although Noah provided the approximate location of the offspring, finding an ordinary person without distinctive features in Noah Territory was no less difficult than finding a needle in a haystack.

Thus, Ophelia futilely searched Noah Territory for seven days before reluctantly choosing to give up. However, the Great Angel Leader, filled with frustration, did not return to Heaven at once; before leaving, she sought out Noah, engaging in a fierce battle for seven days and nights.

"Sigh, we have to rebuild again!"

Noah, who had fought one exhilarating battle after another, looked at the expansive ruins where the palaces once stood, now collapsed into ruins, and couldn’t help but sigh.

This time the scale of the battle surpassed the last, as Ophelia did indeed engage him in combat, only for them to naturally roll together in the midst of the fighting.

As a descendant of the Blazing Sky God, Ophelia was neither weak in bloodline nor in her own power, but sadly, provoking the Ancestor Dragon was simply asking for trouble.

Noah thoroughly conquered this angel in various aspects, so when this Great Angel Leader returned to Heaven, she no longer mentioned the matter of Iliad.

After all, in the eyes of the angels, it was the Ancestor Dragon’s own offspring, what was there to worry about? What could possibly go wrong?

Ding~ Ding~ Ding Dong~

The heavy pickaxe struck the hard stone wall, and occasionally spraying sparks illuminated the slightly dim cave. The smell of sweat, mixed with various unknown odors such as armpit and foot odor, surged through the poorly ventilated mine shaft.

A pale-faced young man panted heavily, yet even so, he had to swing the pickaxe in his hand, because if he failed to dig up enough ore today, he would not only have his wages docked but also his food would be withheld, leaving him hungry.

Even in this place, enduring such heavy and unsafe tasks, Iliad felt dazed and incredulous.

Half a month ago, he was still in Heaven, filled with holy radiance, serene and harmonious, receiving the guidance of a Great Angel Leader. But now, he not only became an ordinary person but had also tragically fallen to become a mining slave.

Initially, Iliad found it hard to believe, after all, he was still in his father’s territory. How could such an absurd situation occur? How could such evil be so rampant?

However, after several days of hard labor, Iliad gradually understood that the main reason he faced such tribulation was due to his identity issue.

His father had sealed him as a mortal, but did not grant him the corresponding identity. Therefore, after being thrown to the border town, he was mistaken by unscrupulous mine owners as an illegal immigrant fleeing into the Holy Dragon Land.

Unauthorized illegal immigrants do not receive protection from the Holy Dragon Code. Thus, even if a large number of immigrants without proper identity were treated as mining slaves, local officials turned a blind eye.

It felt like there was no way out, and Iliad couldn’t think of how, in such a weak mortal state, he could escape from such a dire predicament in a short time.

Even though he knew many Breathing Techniques and meditation suitable for the Human Race, cultivation required time and a lot of resources.

Even just sitting still for meditation, requires the basic provision of food to ensure normal bodily functions.

Given his current state of heavy labor from dawn to dusk, heading to a crowded dormitory, lying down for sleep, and then contemplating cultivation meditation was nearly impossible.

It was only due to his unique identity that if a true mortal attempted what he did, forcing meditation under such exhaustion couldn’t last a few days before their soul succumbed to the Nether River, reporting to the Death God.

The only solution Iliad could conceive was to exploit the flaws in his father’s seal, believing his father wouldn’t be harsh and must have left some leeway.

He would forcefully cultivate meditation in a manner impossible for a mortal, accumulating spiritual power, aspiring to become a spellcaster, and utilizing spells to escape the dark and dismal black mine pit.

As for the Breathing Technique, that was beyond contemplation. In a state where he couldn’t even fill his stomach, how could he possibly temper his physique? Unless he pried open the seal placed by his father.

Simply forcing meditation already felt humiliating to Iliad, as the solution he conceived was one not attainable by mortals, but he didn’t want to waste ten years in the black mine pit, knowing a real mortal couldn’t walk out on their own strength.

However, before this Holy Dragon’s Son, who experienced worldly suffering, could steadfastly endure and accumulate enough spiritual power to rely on his own strength to escape the black mine pit.

Someone beside him, a middle-aged uncle who had imparted survival know-how when Iliad first arrived, suddenly erupted with radiant Holy Light, blinding the eyes of the mine masters’ henchmen.

"Paladin?!"

Holding a piece of vegetable pie, Iliad was left dumbfounded as he saw the middle-aged uncle, donned in Holy Light, rampaging through the mine, scattering the mine’s lackeys with their heads in their hands.

He clearly remembered how this middle-aged uncle taught him to find loose and easy-to-dig mining spots, how to sneakily rest out of the overseer’s sight, and how to have better meals.

These were just experiences summarized by a miner who toiled day and night for nearly three months, not enough to break free from the current predicament, but enough to adapt better.