I'm Really Not the Demon God's Lackey Chapter 448: Deeper

Lin Jie carried Red back in silence, and it wasn't until the next morning did she wake up. But every time she thought about her grandmother, Red would burst into tears.

Lin Jie was at a loss for words. He made a small stool for himself and sat outside the tent reading. There wasn't any sunlight in the Lower District, and the only street lights within these tunnels were made of luminous spinal stones that only shone for two hours per day, which were used by the administrators to find their way around.

Due to the long time spent living underground, night vision was one of the more important mutations Lower District denizens gained.

It wasn't till about five o'clock the next day that Red came out of the tent with swollen eyes and stared at Lin Jie in surprise. "Why are you still here?"

Lin Jie clapped his book shut and chuckled. "I'm your hostage, remember?"

He needed a guide to explore the Lower District as a human, and not the god that had caused all of it.

"I want to mine," Red said with a choked voice. "I haven't eaten in days."

"I'll go with you."

Red frowned as he scrutinized Lin Jie. Although this person was much weaker than Lower District denizens, he at least was a man and could still help in some way.

Red's grief for her grandmother was much more exaggerated than that of all the Lower District's denizens because death was always present in this place.

The air here either smelled of rocks or was filled with the endless stench of corpses. Behind where Red lived was practically a mass grave. She didn't know where her grandmother was buried, but the body was probably just thrown somewhere by the administrators.

"Come mine with me, and find my grandma," Red said, taking out a shovel and pointing it at Lin Jie.

Lin Jie nodded, adjusted his cloak, and followed behind Red.

In the Lower District, anyone over the age of eight was considered an adult. The average age here was only 25, and most were crushed by the cycle of pollution, hunger, and repetitive overwork.

For children at the age of eight, like R

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