“It isn’t a refusal, merely a delay,” Chen Qing explained, her voice heavy with fatigue. “We lost over a dozen Foundation Establishment cultivators in a single disaster. To replace them, the Sect needs to refine at least three batches of Foundation Establishment Pills. But look at the state of us: the Second Elder is critically injured, the Grand Elder has been in sealed seclusion for years, and the Third Elder cannot possibly hunt a Tier 3 Demon Beast alone to harvest the necessary core.”

She sighed, staring at the empty display shelves behind her. “Forget Foundation Establishment Pills. The Sect has halted the external sale of all pills.”

“Times are tough,” Wang Hao murmured sympathetically. He looked at her, reading the exhaustion in her posture. “I assume the ruins exploration we discussed is also off the table?”

Chen Qing nodded, looking despondent. “The Sect has grounded all disciples. No long-distance travel, and certainly no dangerous expeditions. We have the supplies ready, but… who knows when the ban will lift. Brother Wang, if the opportunity arises later, would you still join us?”

Wang Hao offered a bitter, apologetic smile. “My family is small and weak. My priority right now is simply surviving this calamity. If we weather the storm, I will give you an answer then. But for now, I must attend to my clan. I won’t disturb you further.”

Chen Qing sighed again as she watched him leave. They had spent a fortune on the intelligence for those ruins. Now, with such a delay, who knew if someone else—the swift-footed arriving first—would claim the prize before they could even step out the door.

Wang Hao left the pavilion with grim confirmation.

Chen Qing’s slip of the tongue had verified the Wang family’s suspicions: Du Guangchao was definitely attempting the Nascent Soul breakthrough. A Late Golden Core cultivator in seclusion for years without injury? There was no other explanation.

Regardless of whether the Burning Heaven Sect or the demonic cultivators struck first, a great war was inevitable. And when it started, the Qingyuan Market—a hub of commerce and resources—would be a primary target.

There was no point in leaving so many clansmen here to die.

He arrived at the Wang family shop to find the doors barred and the ‘Closed’ sign hanging crookedly.

Inside, Wang Yanzhi, the shopkeeper and Wang Hao’s uncle, rushed him to the back courtyard the moment he entered.

“Wenhao! Did the family receive my message?”

“We got it,” Wang Hao reassured him. “Uncle Yanzhi, your instincts were sharp. The family deduced the situation as soon as the Qingyuan Sect was attacked. We are already on war footing.”

Wang Yanzhi slumped into a chair, relief washing over his aging face. “Thank the heavens. I’ve used our remaining funds to buy supplies from fleeing rogue cultivators. They’re dumping stock cheap to lighten their load, but I ran out of Spirit Stones before I could buy much.”

“You did well to get what you could,” Wang Hao said. Yanzhi was sixty, a capable manager who had held the fort here for years. He was loyal, experienced, and just at the edge of the cutoff age for advancement. Wang Hao made a mental note: he would refine a batch of pills for him. The family needed every Foundation Establishment cultivator it could get.

“Uncle, arrange for the staff to pack everything immediately. I’m taking you all back to the Ridge.”

Yanzhi stiffened. “What about the shop?” He looked around the room, his eyes filled with pain. This place was his xinxue—his heart’s blood, his life’s work. He had built this business brick by brick. “How can we just abandon it? You take the apprentices. I’ll stay and guard the property.”

“Uncle,” Wang Hao said gently but firmly. “What use is a Qi Refining cultivator against an army? I don’t mean to be harsh, but you cannot influence the tides of this war.”

“But if I leave, the looters will strip the place bare!”

“Let them have the shelves,” Wang Hao countered. “We take the pills, the herbs, the spirit wine. The real value is in the portable goods. If Qingyuan Market falls, Uncle, do you think this building would stand anyway?”

Whether it was the Burning Heaven Sect or a horde of opportunists, invaders wouldn’t march thousands of miles just to go home empty-handed. They would loot everything in sight.

Wang Hao stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Uncle Yanzhi, I brought back several Foundation Establishment Pills. You are at the ninth level of Qi Refining. I want you to take one and gamble on a breakthrough.”

“Foundation Establishment Pills… for me?” Yanzhi froze. Then he shook his head vigorously. “No. I am past sixty. My blood vitality is declining. Do not waste such a treasure on an old man. If the family wishes to reward me, give the pill to Wenjing.”

Wang Wenjing, Yanzhi’s daughter and Wang Hao’s eighteenth sister, was twenty-three with decent aptitude. A safer bet for the future.

“Uncle, I shouldn’t tell you this,” Wang Hao whispered, leaning in. “But Wenjing is already gone. She left with the Old Ancestor for the overseas archipelago.”

“What? Overseas?” Yanzhi gasped, his eyes widening. He had guarded the teleportation array for years, hearing stories of the rich lands across the sea, but he never dreamed his daughter was already there.

“Not just her. Wenyan, Wenmei… they are all there. And they have already reached Foundation Establishment.”

Yanzhi’s hands trembled. He waved frantically. “Stop! Don’t tell me anymore! These are top secrets. If I leak this, I’ll be a sinner of the clan!”

Wang Hao smiled. The old man’s first instinct was to protect the family, even from himself. He hadn’t misjudged him.

“Exactly, Uncle. To keep these secrets, you need strength. You need to be a Foundation Establishment cultivator.”

“But the waste…”

“What waste?” Wang Hao pressed. “The young geniuses are gone. They are the seeds, sent away to preserve our future. The ones left at the Ridge are the old and the very young. Who will fight for the family here? Who will protect the home front? You are the best candidate left. If you don’t use the pill, it will just rot in the warehouse losing potency.”

“We have Vein Protection Pills,” Wang Hao added. “Even if you fail, you won’t die. Why not dare to fight for it?”

Yanzhi fell silent, wrestling with his frugal nature. Finally, a new light entered his eyes—not of ambition, but of resolve.

“Alright. I will go back with you. If I succeed, this old life belongs to the family.”

“Does that mean if I didn’t give you the pill, you wouldn’t die for the family?” Wang Hao teased.

Yanzhi barked a laugh, the tension breaking.

Wang Hao also tried to evacuate Zou Renhe, the master brewer who had revolutionized their wine business. However, the old man refused to budge.

“My wish is fulfilled,” Zou Renhe said, sitting amidst his fermentation jars. “My lifespan is near its end. I found my success here in Qingyuan Market, and I will die here.”

He looked at Wang Hao with a peaceful smile. “I only regret that I cannot train any more apprentices for you. I have failed your trust.”

Wang Hao couldn’t move him. In the end, he could only comfort the old man by assuring him that his daughter, Zou Yu, was safe and cared for. Zou Renhe nodded, closing his eyes in content.

After a quick consolidation of assets, Wang Hao led Wang Yanzhi and the six other staff members out of the empty shop. They stepped onto the road, leaving the market behind, and began the journey home.