“Since that’s the case, I’ll accept this disciple.”

Zou Renhe’s face instantly lit up with relief and joy. “Thank you, Master!” He then tugged urgently at Zou Yu’s sleeve. “Girl, don’t just stand there. Kneel and pay respects to your Master!”

“Disciple Zou Yu pays respects to Master!” The young girl was sensible for her age, falling to her knees and kowtowing three times with solemn precision.

Wang Hao accepted the bow, though internally he sighed. He didn’t have much time to play mentor, but the title alone was a shield for her. He would provide the resources and occasional guidance; whether she could reach Foundation Establishment would depend on her own Dao heart.

The formalities concluded swiftly. Wang Hao took a reluctant Zou Yu to bid farewell to Li Derong, then activated the Sun and Moon Shuttle for the return trip to the Wang Family Ridge.

For Zou Yu, the flight was a revelation. She spent the first few hours with her face pressed against the shuttle’s viewport, eyes wide as the landscape blurred beneath them. The velocity was too high for a Qi Refining novice to track for long, however, and she soon grew dizzy. Yet, she refused to complain or look away, forcing herself to endure the vertigo. Wang Hao noted this silent perseverance with approval; a resilient will was more valuable than raw talent on the path to immortality.

Ten days later, the familiar peaks of the Wang family estate rose from the horizon.

News of their return had preceded them. As the shuttle descended, two streaks of sword-light shot from the mountain—Patriarch Wang Guang’an and Wang Yanzhao.

“Wenhao! You’ve returned.” Wang Guang’an’s voice carried over the wind, relief palpable in his tone. “Was the overseas journey smooth?”

“Fairly smooth, Old Ancestor,” Wang Hao called back, stepping off the shuttle. “We hunted demonic beasts, made a profit, and established a shop in Wanxiang City. Business is thriving.”

The two elders visibly relaxed. “Excellent,” Wang Yanzhao said, then his gaze fell on the small girl clutching the hem of Wang Hao’s robe. “And this is?”

“This is Zou Yu, grandniece of Zou Renhe. He entrusted her to me. I’ve promised to raise her as a core disciple.” Wang Hao nudged the girl gently. “Yu’er, greet the Old Ancestor.”

“Yu’er greets the Old Ancestor,” she squeaked, kneeling again.

Wang Guang’an smiled, a rare softness on his weathered face. He helped her up. “Good child. Go to the Transmission Hall for now; someone will settle you in and teach you the basics.”

Once Zou Yu was safely handed off to a clan attendant, the three Foundation Establishment cultivators took to the skies, flying directly to the summit hall where Wang Longyou was already waiting.

Inside the privacy of the main hall, the silencing wards were activated. Wang Hao wasted no time on pleasantries.

“We found a ruin,” he said simply.

The atmosphere in the room tightened instantly.

“A ruin?” Wang Longyou’s eyes widened. “Where?”

“The Pill Cauldron Sect,” Wang Hao revealed. “We entered by chance. It was… treacherous. Demonic beasts everywhere. Hostile factions. Uncle Yanlang fell there.”

A heavy silence descended as the three elders processed the loss. Yanlang was a Foundation Establishment cultivator—a pillar of the family. To lose one was a grievous blow. But in the world of cultivation, death was a constant neighbor. They mourned in seconds, then turned their focus to the living.

“And the harvest?” Wang Guang’an asked, his voice low.

Wang Hao didn’t speak. He simply waved his hand, and a pile of jade slips appeared on the table.

“Three Golden Core techniques,” he said, pointing to the first stack. Then he pointed to a single, ancient slip resting atop the others. “And one Nascent Soul technique.”

The silence shattered.

Wang Guang’an’s hand trembled as he reached for the jade slip. Wang Yanzhao and Longyou stared at it as if it were a bomb.

“The True Scripture of Red Lotus and Phantom Wood,” Wang Hao explained. “Old Ancestor, it seems our family has deep ties to the Pill Cauldron Sect. This is the direct continuation of our core art.”

Wang Guang’an closed his eyes, clutching the slip. “I can tell you now,” he murmured. “Our founding ancestor was indeed a disciple of the Pill Cauldron Sect. But he was outer sect, without core inheritance. He left strict instructions: until we produced a Golden Core cultivator, we were never to seek the sect’s ruins. But since you stumbled upon it by destiny… the restriction is lifted.”

“It’s a pity,” Wang Hao said. “The sect was looted before it fell. Most of the high-level inheritances are gone. What I found are mostly First and Second Tier arts—talismans, planting, beast taming. And many are outdated.”

“Do not be greedy,” Wang Guang’an chided gently, though his eyes shone with excitement. “Our Wang family has survived on crumbs. We only have a Second Tier inheritance in Alchemy. Everything else is First Tier. These ‘outdated’ arts? They are treasures! Silkworm rearing, artifact forging—these will become pillars of our clan’s economy. They are priceless foundations!”

Wang Hao nodded and produced two more items. “Then there is this. Zou Renhe’s brewing legacy, and a Puppet Art manual I found. The brewing can be taught immediately to clansmen with water or wood roots. The puppetry will require someone with talent in artifact forging.”

“I will arrange it,” Wang Yanzhao said, taking the items. “But Wenhao… the Nascent Soul technique. Does the Li family know?”

“No. They received one Golden Core technique. They are ignorant of the rest.”

The collective exhale in the room was audible.

A Nascent Soul technique in the South Sea was not a treasure; it was a calamity magnet. No local sect, not even the Qingyuan Sect, had produced a Nascent Soul cultivator in millennia. If word got out that the Wang family held such a scripture, they would be wiped out overnight by envious powers.

“Good,” Wang Guang’an said grimly. “The fewer who know, the better. The Ji family girl?”

“Smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Her ancestor is a Golden Core; she knows the stakes.”

“We are still too weak,” Wang Longyou muttered.

“We will grow,” Wang Guang’an replied firmly. “Wenhao, continue. You didn’t just bring books back.”

Wang Hao grinned. “Old Ancestor’s eyes are torches indeed. We harvested spirit herbs. The mature ones were eaten by beasts, but the immature ones were plentiful. I also bought a massive stock in the overseas markets. Combined with the ruins’ harvest, we have enough raw material for five hundred furnaces of pills.”

Wang Guang’an stood up, pacing the hall with energetic strides. “Good! Good! Good! Our population is booming, and we were starving for resources. This solves our bottleneck for years!”

Wang Hao divided the massive stockpile into three storage bags, handing one to each elder. “I’ve sorted them. The volume is too high for just us; we’ll need to mobilize the lower-ranking alchemists for the First Tier pills.”