Meanwhile, Wei Rong and his team had arrived at the location where Tang Wu had claimed to have left Mei Xueyin.

What greeted them was a massive hole in the ground. As they peered into the hollow below, it became clear that it might be an alternate entrance to a hidden inheritance. For a fleeting moment, greed flashed in the eyes of Wei Rong's teammates. But unlike them, Wei Rong, who was more concerned about Mei Xueyin's wellbeing than any treasure, scanned the surroundings, searching for clues that might lead to her.

Without a moment's hesitation, he leapt down into the pit. His eyes quickly locked onto traces of dried blood and slivers of dead skin on the stone floor. He knelt and touched the blood—brown and caked over—clearly a day old. His expression darkened.

If Mei Xueyin hadn't regained consciousness and taken a pill on her own, she would've fallen into an eternal sleep.

"Search!" Wei Rong commanded his team sharply. Though a branch family member of the Wei Clan, he carried himself with the authority of a true young master.

His teammates, eager for both glory and gain, scattered in all directions. Their objective was clear: treasures first, Mei Xueyin second.

Wei Rong, however, remained focused. He wasn't idle like the rest. He scoured the ground, examining every trace, every scratch or drop of blood that might give him a clue.

Kneeling beside a trail of faint, crimson footprints, he narrowed his eyes. The impressions were shallow—barely pressed into the damp earth. Each step was narrow, light, and spaced delicately—clearly not left by a man.

He ran his finger along one print, noting the inward curve of the toes and the slender taper of the heel. It matched Mei Xueyin's gait.

But the blood trail gradually faded the farther it went, indicating the bleeding had stopped—or that she had been healed.

Wei Rong's gaze grew unreadable as he discovered another set of footprints beside hers.

They were broader, heavier—clearly a man's. And he wasn't injured. The blood surrounding his prints matched the viscosity near hers, yet none of it came from him. He had likely taken only a step or two before realizing the blood had stained his shoes, then adjusted his stride to avoid it.

With little else to go on, Wei Rong ventured deeper into the underground vault.

Though her footprints had vanished entirely, he lowered himself until his cheek brushed the dusty marble floor. Under this angle and in this dim light, he could make out faint impressions—just enough to follow.

He summoned his spiritual energy and unrolled it along the floor like a carpet woven from golden mist. As his Qi spread forward, it revealed the hidden footprints—both Mei Xueyin's and the unknown man's. Each step shimmered softly against the golden sheen of his spirit energy.

Wei Rong had recently advanced to the first level of the Foundation Building Realm. As a cultivator who had successfully condensed Qi, he could now perform basic techniques like this, though maintaining the effect required a steady drain of his refined energy.

The first time he'd seen these glowing trails of golden spiritual particles, he had been awestruck. Now he understood why cultivators referred to Qi as "Heavenly Qi." To mortals, gold was the most sacred of metals—and this energy, radiant and divine, lived up to the name.

I need to hurry.

Wei Rong didn't know who the other person was. If he had ill intentions toward Mei Xueyin, then she might be in danger.

I just hope he's not one of her old enemies from the sect...

"Miss Mei, are you really alright? Do you need me to help you with something?" Long Chen asked with faux concern, extending a hand as if to support Mei Xueyin's waist.

But she was quicker. With a graceful dodge, she avoided his blatant attempt to take advantage of her.

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"Senior Long, I haven't bathed in days, and I'm still injured. I'm afraid your clothes might get dirty because of me," she said calmly, her voice soft yet unmistakably distant.

"...Well, alright," Long Chen replied, forcing a smile to hide the displeasure bubbling beneath his surface.

But Mei Xueyin could sense it clearly—the hostility in his gaze.

Why isn't she falling for my looks? Even Jin Meiyu couldn't help but strike up small talk when we first met. But this girl—who clearly seems like the type to throw herself at anyone with status and wealth—is avoiding me like the plague... Long Chen clenched his jaw.

He wasn't used to rejection. From a young age, people had fawned over him. Those who caught his attention usually ended up becoming his.

Or else...

[Calm down.] his master's voice rang in his mind, laced with disapproval. [She's injured, and here you are having filthy thoughts. Be a decent human, at least.]

Long Chen sighed internally. He was long used to his master's complaints. After traveling together for so long, he had also learned his master's weakness—the desperate need to build a physical body strong enough to contain his overwhelming soul.

Knowing that his master's survival depended on him had only made Long Chen more arrogant. At this point, he didn't care much about what the old ghost said. He was the master's only hope.

He eyed Mei Xueyin again, from head to toe. Her clothes were tattered, her hair disheveled, her body covered in dirt and bruises. The only redeeming feature she had was her face—and even then, she didn't seem to understand just how lucky she was that he had taken interest in her.

Just wait till we leave this place. I'll make your life in the sect so unbearable you'll come crawling to me... begging for help at any cost.

And when that day came...

"Heheh..." he chuckled to himself, lost in fantasy.

"Senior? Are you alright?" Mei Xueyin asked, raising a brow.

She was already accustomed to Long Chen's sudden creepy laughter. She could tell—just by the way he ogled her—that his thoughts were never clean. It was during those moments that his laughter slipped out, like a villain rehearsing some twisted plan.

Before Long Chen could respond, they were reminded of their surroundings.

They were still inside the massive underground palace—a vast structure made entirely of stone, with a ceiling high enough to disappear into shadows. Gigantic pillars, cracked with age, stood like silent sentinels, so wide that it would take ten people linking arms to encircle just one.

There were at least twenty such columns, lined in two perfect rows.

"This place..." Mei Xueyin whispered, her voice hushed with awe.

"It's... too big," Long Chen muttered, his tone shifting as his eyes swept across the grand hall.

The scale of the palace was otherworldly. There were no depictions of ancient beasts or celestial murals, but what truly caught their attention were the "tiny thrones" lined up along a path—each large enough to seat half the Inner Sect disciples without feeling cramped.

But the true eye-catcher was the central seat—the "King's Throne."

It was so enormous that, in comparison, Mei Xueyin and Long Chen looked like insects. Sitting atop it was a single skeleton. Though much of it was cracked and time-worn, even the arm bone alone stretched farther than the length of a Hidden Dragon Sect.

"This... wasn't built by humans," Mei Xueyin whispered.

"No. It had to be giants," Long Chen replied, his voice now mixed with reverence and unease.

A chill swept through the silent hall.

They had stumbled upon something ancient, something far beyond the reach of ordinary cultivators.

And something—or someone—had once ruled here.

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