Chapter 611 - 609: I Hope You Can Last a Little Longer

Chapter 611: Chapter 609: I Hope You Can Last a Little Longer

Celeste Grant had gone to the quarry once to see Jocelyn’s mother. The workers there were all serious criminals, bound by shackles on their hands and feet.

Jocelyn’s mother was dressed in coarse hemp, her eyes sunken and hair disheveled. Her former beauty was gone, leaving only a white-haired old crone. Her back was hunched as she bent to move stones into a basket. Because her age made her slow, she was often on the receiving end of the overseer’s whip. ℴ

The overseer patrolled among the serious criminals, whip in hand. The moment he saw anyone slacking, he would lash out without hesitation.

Celeste Grant remained hidden in the shadows. In the short time she had been standing there, she had already seen Jocelyn’s mother whipped to the ground twice.

"Work faster, you old hag."

"AAGH..."

The old woman, struck by the overseer’s whip, collapsed and rolled on the ground in pain. "Sir, please, don’t hit me! I’ll get back to work, I’ll work right now!" She cowered and begged for mercy, all traces of her former arrogance gone.

These past few days, she had been beaten into submission.

When she first arrived, she had been full of curses and arrogance. She was disgusted by how dirty the other prisoners were, repulsed by the stench of their sweat. Her every word dripped with condescension, and her eyes seemed to say, ’You’re all trash. Why aren’t you on your knees licking my boots?’ On top of that, she would open her mouth only to call others "mere mortals."

But the quarry was filled with serious criminals; none of them were about to indulge her. They immediately gave her a sound beating. Fortunately, the overseer intervened, forcing them to stop.

Jocelyn’s mother had once practiced Cultivation. So even after becoming an ordinary old woman, her physical constitution was better than that of a typical mortal of her age. After the beating, she was somehow able to limp back to work the very next day. From then on, she received "special attention" from the overseer, which meant she endured more than her share of whippings. It was work, work, and more work; resting even for a moment was out of the question.

As for concepts like "respect for the elderly," such things didn’t exist in a place like this.

Just now, Eve Warren had blurted out "Sir" while begging for mercy. She subconsciously still thought of herself as the beautiful young miss of the Warren Family, a girl who could charm any man with a coquettish address.

If she still possessed her former beauty, perhaps calling him "big brother" might have softened his heart. But now she was just an old woman with a withered body and a face like tree bark. For her to call a young man "big brother"... wasn’t that a flagrant insult to his pride?

Sure enough, the moment the words left her mouth, the overseer, who had been about to walk away, took a step back and turned to glare at her viciously.

The overseer immediately started cursing. "Are you blind, you old hag? I’m not even married yet, and an eighty-year-old crone like you has the gall to call me ’big brother’? Pah! You think you’re some young girl? You senile old bat! You’re making me sick!" As he spoke, he lashed out with his whip. "Get lost, you disgusting old thing."

Struck again, Jocelyn’s mother let out another wretched scream.

"AARGH..."

The overseer said coldly, "Get back to work. If you dare slack off again, you don’t eat today. You already eat the most and work the least of anyone here." He shot her a look of disgust, then turned and walked away, looking for his next target.

After the overseer left, the old woman, who had been curled up on the ground, scrambled to her feet and resumed her work. A tear trickled from her cloudy, aged eyes.

’They call *this* eating a lot? Which one of their eyes saw me eating a lot?’ They only gave her one steamed bun and half a bowl of water a day. When would this miserable existence ever end?

Before, as a Cultivator, she had no need for food and never felt hunger. But now, stripped of her Cultivation, she had become the very thing she despised most—a mortal, starving day after day. In these past days, she had truly learned what it felt like to be dizzy with hunger. One bun a day was nowhere near enough to fill her stomach.

’So hungry, so thirsty.’

’So this is the life of a mortal. It’s too hard. I can’t go on like this for another day.’ She was old and ugly, trapped in a mortal body, forced to do back-breaking labor with barely any food. Many times, in the dead of night, Eve Warren had thought of ending it all. But when it came to the actual act, she could never bring herself to do it.

Deep down, she didn’t want to die.

Eve Warren wanted to find some chance of survival. ’Only by staying alive is there hope. If I die now, it’s all over. That woman will just laugh at me.’

She still had a son and a daughter in the Upper Realm. She had so many lovers, too. ’If only they’d think of me. If just one of them comes to find me, I can still be saved.’

The thought of Celeste Grant made Eve Warren’s hands tremble with rage. As she moved another stone, she muttered under her breath, "Celeste Grant, you did this to me. I’ll never let you get away with it."

’I will have my revenge. Sooner or later, I’ll make that bitch Celeste Grant pay for what she’s done to me.’

’I have to hold on. I have to hold on.’

’As long as I can hold on until someone comes for me, I still have a chance. If I can just leave this world and return to the Immortal Domain, I can find a way to restore my Cultivation and my looks. Then I won’t be this despised old crone anymore. I’ll be that beautiful young miss again.’

Just as she was gritting her teeth and forcing herself to go on, a voice sounded in her ear. "Well now, Jocelyn’s mother, still digging up rocks? You’re truly amazing, managing to survive these harsh conditions. See? I told you this kind of hard, honest work would suit you. Keep it up. The whole quarry’s KPI is counting on you."

As the voice echoed, the color drained from Eve Warren’s face. Her cloudy eyes flew wide open. She whipped her head around, searching, but saw no one. Yet the voice had come from right beside her.

"Don’t bother looking. I’m right here."

’It’s her? Celeste Grant is here.’

’That woman, Celeste Grant, is right here.’

She had always been bested by Celeste Grant. But her plan this time was supposed to be foolproof. Who could have imagined that woman would be here, in the Mortal Realm?

Fear and fury warred on her face. Her eyes scanned the area, but all she could see was rock after rock.

"It’s you... you bitch... Celeste Grant, you bitch!"

"Show yourself! What kind of coward hides? I know you’re here! If you have any guts, come out and face me!"

The eighty-year-old woman looked completely unhinged, pointing and cursing at thin air. With her hair flying wildly, she looked for all the world like she was having a seizure.

Celeste Grant, still concealed, swept her gaze over the crazed woman and said in a low voice, "It seems a body that once practiced Cultivation retains a better constitution than an ordinary person, even after becoming mortal. I see you’re still quite spirited. In that case, you don’t need that one bun a day anymore. I’m sure half a bowl of water will be enough to sustain you. It’s not good for the elderly to eat too much, after all. You can give your bun to someone else. See how thoughtful I am? You’d better work hard, Jocelyn’s mother. I have high hopes for you."

She could barely survive on one bun a day. If even that was taken away, how many days could she possibly last?