I Was Forced to Marry a “Trash” Cultivator, But She Turned Out to Be a Reborn Empress!

Chapter 212: Clues in the Archives & Bloodline Ascension

After noticing the archaic inscription at the base of the jade platform, Shen Xian immediately activated his identity token to contact the Elder.

The response came almost instantly.

“Third Young Master has a keen eye. That is indeed a simplified derivative of the Void Roaming Heaven Steps. Our founding ancestor comprehended the remnants of that ancient technique to create the Soaring Cloud Evasion Art.”

“Void Roaming Heaven Steps…” Shen Xian murmured, his eyes narrowing in thought.

The name shared the “Void” prefix with the Void Measuring Ruler he had just forged. Could there be a connection to the ancient lineage of the Shen Family?

“Another reason to visit the Northern Region,” he mused. “If I can uncover the original ancient technique, my survivability will skyrocket.”

Having secured the evasion art, Shen Xian did not leave the pagoda. Instead, he ascended to the third floor.

This level housed ancient fragments, incomplete historical records, and forgotten chronicles of the continent. For a regular disciple, the restricted access fees and clearance levels were insurmountable. For the newly anointed Heir Apparent, the doors swung open without resistance.

Rows of towering bookshelves stretched into the gloom, smelling of old paper and history.

Shen Xian expanded his Divine Sense, scanning thousands of titles simultaneously.

Even with his enhanced mental processing, the search took a full four hours.

Fortunately, the Shen Family’s archives were deep. As a clan that originated in the Northern Region before migrating south, their collection of northern geography and lore was surprisingly detailed.

Scanning through yellowed bamboo slips and rotting beast-skin scrolls, Shen Xian managed to piece together scattered references regarding the three materials needed to repair the Turtle-Snake Lamp.

The first clue appeared in a loose page tucked inside the Northern Region Scenery and Objects Chronicle. It was a fragment of a moth-eaten map marked with the characters for “Netherworld” (You Ming), depicted next to a sketch of a freezing, abyssal pool.

The second clue was found in the Records of Ancient Rare Objects: “Heaven Fire Glazed Glass is born in the absolute zero zones of the Northern Region. Shaped like a teardrop, it burns with a cold flame capable of melting 10,000-year-old Profound Ice.”

The third material, Divine Silence Quicksand, proved the most elusive. There were no maps or locations—only terrified anecdotes. Records mentioned cultivators encountering a “strange, flowing earth” that eroded the Divine Sense upon contact. Once stuck, escape was impossible.

Shen Xian mentally compiled the data. The conclusion was singular.

“All three materials are concentrated in the Northern Region.”

Whether for the sake of rescuing Ye Qingxian or for his own cultivation path, the journey North was inevitable.

He sighed softly. “It is a pity there is no information on the Ice Soul Immortal Sect.”

The Shen Family had migrated to the Southern Region long before the Ice Soul Immortal Sect rose to power. They were blind to the current geopolitical landscape of the North.

Satisfied with his findings, Shen Xian left the Scripture Repository.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of bruised purple and gold, Shen Xian made his way to his new residence.

As the heir, his living arrangements had been upgraded.

It was a magnificent three-section compound, far more spacious than his previous courtyard. The garden was dominated by several hundred-year-old spirit peach trees. Their pink and white petals drifted on the evening breeze, carpeting the stone paths in a layer of floral brocade.

As he stepped into the inner courtyard, the sound of bell-like laughter drifted from the side wing.

Through the intricate lattice of a half-open window, Shen Xian saw Wei Zhaoli sitting across from Xiang’er. A pot of tea steamed between them, accompanied by a plate of exquisite pastries.

“…I heard from the old stewards that the Young Master was a terror when he was little,” Xiang’er said, covering her mouth as she giggled. “Once, he stole the Clan Head’s spirit peaches and was punished to kneel in the ancestral hall for three days and three nights.”

It had been a while since Shen Xian had properly looked at his maid. Xiang’er had grown into a graceful young woman, radiating a youthful vitality that softened the edges of the room.

She seemed particularly eager to please the new mistress. Trading childhood secrets was a classic tactic to build intimacy and loyalty.

Wei Zhaoli paused, her teacup hovering halfway to her lips. A gentle warmth softened her usually cool expression. “I cannot imagine him being so… reckless.”

“Oh, it’s true!” Xiang’er was about to launch into another story when she caught movement in her peripheral vision. She jumped up, bowing hastily. “Young Master has returned.”

Shen Xian pushed the door open, bringing a gust of peach-scented wind with him.

He looked at Xiang’er. The girl looked slightly haggard despite her smile—likely from worrying about him during his absence.

“What were you discussing with such joy?” he asked, his voice mild.

“Just… the Young Master’s childhood exploits,” Xiang’er said, stepping back to create space. Her eyes darted between Shen Xian and Wei Zhaoli. “Since Young Master is back, this servant will go prepare the evening meal.”

As Xiang’er retreated, Wei Zhaoli stood up and poured a fresh cup of tea for Shen Xian.

The twilight filtered through the silk window screens, dusting her white robes with gold.

“Mother said… I am to live here from now on,” she said softly. Her voice was steady, but the tips of her ears burned a bright red. Her fingers unconsciously traced the rim of her cup. “After all… the wedding is set for ten days from now.”

Shen Xian accepted the tea. Through the rising steam, he offered her a practical, yet teasing smile.

“Excellent. It will make our dual cultivation sessions much more efficient.”

Wei Zhaoli’s face flushed crimson.

Outside, Xiang’er paused at the courtyard gate, glancing back at the silhouette of the couple in the window.

They looked like a pair of celestial immortals.

“The Young Master’s life is finally on the right track,” she whispered, envy and relief warring in her heart.

But as she turned away, a memory surfaced—another woman, another silhouette that used to stand beside him.

“I wonder if the Young Mistress will ever return…” she muttered, before disappearing into the shadows.

The next morning.

Shen Xian sat in the courtyard, sipping morning tea, while Wei Zhaoli meditated in the guest wing.

“Third Young Master!”

Shen Lingyue strode through the moon gate. The Accounts Manager was dressed in fine brocade, his demeanor respectful and sharp.

“Everything you requested has been prepared.”

Since Shen Xian’s elevation to Heir Apparent, Shen Lingyue’s status had risen with the tide. Shen Xiong was actively grooming him to be Shen Xian’s right-hand man, the manager of his future assets.

When Shen Xian had sent a message yesterday requesting specific resources, Shen Lingyue had moved heaven and earth to procure them overnight.

“Thank you for your hard work.” Shen Xian swept his Divine Sense over the delivered items.

They were high-grade alchemical materials, specifically for stimulating and purifying beast bloodlines.

The resources of a great clan are truly terrifying, Shen Xian noted. Before, I would have had to risk my life in a forbidden zone to find even one of these herbs. Now, a single word brings them to my doorstep.

“It is my honor to serve,” Shen Lingyue said, bowing lower. He then produced a separate, ornate Storage Bag. “Young Master, per your instructions, the Accounts Department evaluated the remaining loot from the ruins. We have exchanged the bulk of the raw materials for two finished Spirit Treasures.”

Shen Xian took the bag. Inside lay two artifacts radiating powerful fluctuations.

Spirit Treasures were strategic assets. Even as the heir, he couldn’t just demand them from the treasury; he had to trade value for value.

“Good work,” Shen Xian nodded, stowing the bag.

Shen Lingyue, sensing he was dismissed, bowed and retreated without a wasted word.

With the materials in hand, Shen Xian headed to the rear of the courtyard.

There lay a small, secluded Spirit Spring he had specifically commissioned for raising his Black Mystic Spirit-Seeking Tortoise.

Shen Xian took out several formation disks he had looted from the ruins and meticulously arranged them around the spring.

Hum.

Barriers of light rose up, sealing the area off from the outside world.

Upgrading a spirit beast’s bloodline was a volatile process. It would create noise and energy fluctuations.

Moreover, the specific method he was using came from the memories of Lin Lang. It was a secret technique of the Divine Wood Sect. Even within his own family, discretion was paramount.

Once the arrays were active, Shen Xian approached the water’s edge.

The Mystic Tortoise was currently hard at work, lazily spitting water onto a patch of Purple Immortal Ganoderma to accelerate its growth. Sensing its master, it looked up, its beady, mung-bean eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Don’t resist,” Shen Xian commanded.

He circulated his Qi, lifting the heavy tortoise into the air and placing it gently into the center of the formation array.

The formation was designed to stabilize chaotic energy and prevent the beast from exploding during the evolution process. Given his limited proficiency in formation arts, it was a crude safety net, but better than nothing.

Shen Xian took a deep breath, lining up the precious materials.

“Time to awaken your true bloodline.”