Boom…

The heavy stone door ground against the floor, a low, grating rumble echoing in the silence as it slowly swung inward.

It was not what Chen Ping had expected.

There were no blinding rays of auspicious light. No celestial music drifting through the air. Not even the spine-chilling pressure of lingering killing intent.

Behind the door lay only a vast, empty cavern.

Embedded in the high ceiling were several night pearls, long since dead. Their surfaces were spiderwebbed with cracks, emitting only a sickly, dim glow that barely pushed back the shadows.

The layout of the immortal cave was utilitarian, divided into four distinct zones by natural rock formations and simple stone platforms.

To the left of the entrance sat a dust-laden dais. At its center rested a three-legged Alchemy Furnace, its bronze surface ancient and covered in a heavy patina. Beside it, a few cyan jade slips lay scattered under layers of grime—the Alchemy Sector.

To the right lay a carved-out depression resembling a field. The soil was dried and hardened, distinct from the Black Earth Chen Ping was used to. Sporadic, petrified branches poked out from the ground, looking as if a mere breath would turn them to dust—the Spirit Medicine Sector.

Deep within the cave, atop a large, polished bluestone slab, sat a single meditation cushion, faded to a dull gray—the Cultivation Sector.

Finally, in the deepest corner, stood several racks made of spirit metal and various workbenches. Though covered in thick dust, the shapes of strange components and limbs suggested this was the Puppet Sector.

The entire dwelling was permeated with a desolate, deathly silence. It was a place the world had forgotten.

Chen Ping stood at the threshold, an inexplicable sense of loss washing over him.

He had endured immense hardship, risking his life and sanity to climb that ladder. He had spent months compressing his Qi, bleeding and breaking his body to reach this summit.

And for what? These scraps?

It wasn’t just insignificant; it looked like a total waste of time.

Chen Ping let out a helpless sigh.

Dragging his battered body forward, his chest heaving, his gaze swept over the ruins.

He moved toward the Alchemy Sector first.

The ancient bronze Alchemy Furnace was heavy and imposing. Even under the dust, the profound, mysterious patterns etched into its surface hinted at its extraordinary origin.

If I can secure this, it won’t be a total loss.

He reached out, intending to sweep it directly into his Jade Pendant space.

His fingertip barely grazed the cold metal of the furnace.

Crack…

Sssshhhh…

A faint, crisp sound rang out, followed by the whisper of disintegration.

Chen Ping watched, frozen in astonishment. The seemingly sturdy Alchemy Furnace, along with the jade slips on the table, collapsed instantly. Like sand sculptures that had weathered ten thousand years of wind, the structural integrity simply vanished.

Right before his eyes, the artifacts turned into a pile of lifeless, jade-white powder on the stone platform.

Chen Ping scratched his head, his hand hovering in the air, unsure of what to do.

A faint draft breezed through the cave. The white powder swirled up, dancing in the dim light before dissipating into nothingness.

The Alchemy Sector… empty. Not a damn thing left.

Refusing to accept this, Chen Ping practically ransacked the area, turning over every stone slab and sweeping away the dust in a frantic search.

In the end, he slumped to the floor, defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Bad luck.

Aside from the dust of the furnace and the slips, there was nothing.

Chen Ping sat in silence for a moment before turning his gaze to the Spirit Medicine Sector.

Everywhere he looked, he saw only lifeless, petrified wood. He poked a branch; it crumbled to ash instantly.

Petrified. Dead.

No matter how miraculous the Black Earth in his Jade Pendant was, it couldn’t revive something that had turned to stone.

Logic dictated that this garden would yield the same result as the furnace—nothing.

But Chen Ping was not a man who gave up easily.

He refused to let his blood and sweat result in zero profit.

He got up and began to dig. He didn’t just search; he scoured every inch of the dried soil, practically digging three feet into the ground.

And his stubbornness paid off.

In a narrow, hidden compartment near the rock wall, concealed beneath a loose stone slab, his fingers brushed against something cold and hard.

He pulled them out. Two palm-sized jade boxes, crystal clear and emitting a faint, misty chill.

Millennium Cold Jade!

This material could remain uncorrupted for ten thousand years. It was the premier vessel for preserving high-tier spirit herbs. Anything stored inside would be flash-frozen in time, ensuring the medicinal Qi leaked out at the absolute minimum rate.

If someone used Millennium Cold Jade for storage, the contents were guaranteed to be priceless.

Chen Ping rubbed his hands together vigorously, then spat into his palms for good measure.

Where he came from, a little grit boosted one’s luck.

Gingerly, he pried open the first box.

Inside lay a section of scorched, blackened wood. It was about three inches long and as thick as a thumb.

The surface was marred by fine cracks, as if it had been struck by heavenly lightning and roasted in tribulation fire. Yet, beneath that charred crust, Chen Ping detected an extremely faint, almost imperceptible pulse.

A stubborn fluctuation of wood-attribute vitality.

He turned it over in his hand. He had no idea what it was.

It was just too black.

If not for that faint pulse of life…

He would have tossed it aside as charcoal.

He opened the second box.

Inside sat a single seed, the size of a soybean. It was grayish-brown and covered in intricate, natural patterns.

Like the branch, the seed looked dull and lifeless. But Chen Ping’s powerful Divine Sense pierced through the shell. Deep within the core, hidden away, was a wisp of vitality essence. It was faint to the extreme, yet terrifyingly pure and tenacious.

It was alive.

A seed with natural Dao patterns? No matter how you looked at it, this thing had a heaven-shaking background.

Unfortunately, Chen Ping wasn’t a botanist. He had no clue what it would grow into.

“As long as there’s life, there’s hope.”

With a thought, Chen Ping didn’t hesitate. He carefully transported the charred branch and the gray seed into the Jade Pendant space.

He moved to the Black Earth and planted them separately.

The moment the charred wood touched the Black Earth, it erupted with a dazzling cyan luster.

Under Chen Ping’s incredulous gaze, a tiny, tender green shoot burst forth from the burnt wood.

“This…”

But that wasn’t all.

The surrounding Black Earth visibly sank.

It collapsed downward in a perfect circle around the plant, the soil level dropping at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Chen Ping gaped. He had never seen this happen before.

The Black Earth had cultivated countless herbs for him, but it had never physically diminished to supply nutrients.

A bold guess formed in his mind.

The grade of this spirit medicine was high. So high, it defied his imagination. The energy required to sustain it was stripping the very physical mass of the soil!

Regardless, the black wood was alive.

To find out what kind of heaven-defying treasure it was, he would just have to wait and let it grow.

As for the seed?

After planting, there was no immediate reaction.

Chen Ping didn’t mind. Some top-tier spirit medicines had long germination cycles. As long as the vitality remained, the Black Earth would eventually wake it up.

Done with his gardening, he withdrew his consciousness from the space.

Back in the cave, the two Millennium Cold Jade boxes sat on the ground.

Having lost the faint vitality of the herbs inside to act as a tether, and now exposed to the ambient air of the cave…

Crack! Crack!

Fine fissures instantly spiderwebbed across the pristine, icy surfaces.

In the blink of an eye, the two priceless boxes followed the fate of the Alchemy Furnace. They shattered silently, turning into a pile of cold, spiritless stone fragments.

Chen Ping’s mouth twitched.

Damn time. You really aren’t going to leave me a single good scrap, are you?

Time, in the end, was the world’s most ruthless torrent.