Ji Xiaotang did not linger. In her haste to depart, she casually selected two storage bags from the pile of seven and vanished.

That left five bags from the Qi clan massacre.

Although Wang Hao had done the killing, Li Dedao understood the delicate dance of alliance. While he needed to secure resources for his own clan, maintaining the Wang family’s goodwill was paramount. After a brief, hushed consultation with Li Derong, the Li family selected two bags, leaving the contents to fate.

With the spoils divided, the expedition prepared to break camp.

Manpower was their primary bottleneck; there were simply too few hands to crew three vessels effectively. They decided to tow the small scout ship behind the flotilla, while the Wang and Li families each piloted one of the medium-sized warships.

After the time it took to finish a cup of tea, the convoy set sail, cutting a white wake through the dark waters toward Wanxiang City.

Once the voyage stabilized, Wang Hao left two Qi Refining disciples on deck as lookouts and summoned the Foundation Establishment cultivators to the main cabin.

The air inside was thick with a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. Wang Hao, Wang Yanfeng, Wang Yanping, Wang Wenmei, and Wang Wenwu sat in a circle.

Wang Hao tossed the remaining storage bags onto the central table.

“Regarding the harvest from the ruins,” Wang Hao began, his voice steady. “The rules are standard: individuals keep half, and the other half goes to the family vault. Does anyone have objections?”

The group shook their heads. This was the established custom. Even without the rule, they would have contributed the majority of their findings—especially cultivation manuals. They were not rogue cultivators; hoarding techniques was useless. Strengthening the clan was the only way to ensure their own long-term prosperity.

“Good. We start with Uncle Yanlang’s bag.”

Wang Hao’s expression softened. Although Wang Yanlang had fallen to a treacherous plot, his share would not be erased. It would pass to his direct descendants. However, the clan rules still applied: aside from personal effects, a portion of his exploration gains belonged to the family.

Wang Hao opened Wang Yanlang’s bag in front of everyone.

Transparency was critical here. Although they were blood kin, private assets were sacred. To mishandle a fallen kinsman’s estate would chill the hearts of the family’s cultivators. If the clan stole from its dead, who would be willing to die for it?

The bag’s spiritual imprint had been shattered by the Qi family, replaced by their own mark. Wang Hao cracked the crude seal and dumped the contents onto the table.

The pile was substantial. Yanlang had gathered a significant amount of spiritual herbs and hunted several beasts before his death.

Wang Hao picked up a familiar weapon—the Crescent Moon Blade. It was a Spirit Weapon he had personally gifted to Yanlang.

“These magical artifacts are Uncle Yanlang’s private property,” Wang Hao said quietly. He placed the blade and several Rank 1 artifacts back into the bag. “They return to his line.”

“Pills and talismans are also personal,” Wang Hao added, sweeping the consumables back into the pouch.

He asked the others to verify the remaining items. Once the personal effects were segregated, only the raw resources—beast materials, herbs, and jade slips—remained on the table.

“This is what Uncle Yanlang obtained from the ruins,” Wang Hao said. He made a quick mental calculation. “Based on a fifty-fifty split, his share is worth approximately twelve thousand Spirit Stones. I will make an executive decision: I will convert his share directly into Spirit Stones. It will be easier for his descendants to divide.”

The elders nodded in agreement. Every Foundation Establishment cultivator had a large extended family. Returning with a bag of raw materials would only spark infighting over inheritance. Cold, hard currency was cleaner. As long as the internal squabbles didn’t damage the clan, the leadership rarely intervened.

Wang Hao repacked the bag and handed it to Wang Yanfeng.

Yanfeng inspected the contents, then passed it to Wang Yanping. Yanping verified the inventory before applying a heavy sealing restriction.

Wang Hao was the only one returning to Green Bull Market; the travel costs for the entire group were too high to justify. Naturally, he would carry Yanlang’s estate. However, it was inappropriate for him to seal the bag himself. Everyone here knew Wang Hao didn’t need the money, but Yanlang’s grieving family might not be so rational. Having a third party seal the bag prevented any accusations of theft.

Wang Yanfeng applied the primary seal. Wang Yanping added a secondary layer over the bag itself.

With the somber business concluded, Wang Hao produced his own storage bag. He dissolved the restriction and invited inspection.

Items obtained from the spirit vein were his private fortune. As for the core techniques, he would hand those directly to the Patriarchs, Wang Yanzhao and Wang Guang’an. The fewer people who knew about the high-grade inheritances, the better. He saw no need to paint a target on his back.

What he revealed were piles of spiritual herbs and beast materials.

The others followed suit, dumping their harvests onto the table.

Wang Yanfeng watched with naked envy. He had remained safe outside, yes, but he had also missed the golden opportunity for fortune.

Wang Hao caught the look. “Eighth Uncle, you guarded our retreat. Without you, we would have been cut off. Naturally, you will receive a share of this pool.”

The group voiced their agreement, and Yanfeng smiled, his embarrassment tempered by relief.

Most of the bags were similar—herbs and monster parts. Wang Hao suspected everyone was holding back a few choice items, but he said nothing. Human nature was such; self-interest was inevitable. After all, he was hiding the biggest secrets of them all.

The jade slips were set aside for the family library; the contributors would be rewarded with clan contribution points later.

After taking half from each pile for the clan, Wang Hao skimmed a portion of the remainder to compensate Wang Yanfeng. The distribution was efficient and fair.

Everyone walked away with roughly ten thousand Spirit Stones’ worth of goods. Wang Wenmei received significantly more. Wang Hao had ceded most of their shared discoveries to her, keeping only the seeds for himself.

Furthermore, they had raided the Earth Fire Hall together. The massive alchemy furnace they found was a Magic Treasure-grade artifact, easily worth twenty or thirty thousand Spirit Stones—perhaps even forty thousand at a specialized auction.

Wang Hao intended to keep the furnace. He didn’t bring it out. He would compensate Wenmei privately later.

Wenmei, for her part, remained silent. A tacit understanding passed between them. She owed her Foundation Establishment entirely to Wang Hao. If he wanted the furnace, it was his. Even if they turned it into the family treasury, the Patriarchs would likely just give it back to Wang Hao to use anyway. Why add unnecessary steps?

Finally, only the Qi family loot remained.

There were three large fifty-cubic-meter bags from the Foundation Establishment elders, plus numerous smaller bags from the disciples.

“Half for the family, half for us,” Wang Hao reiterated.

Even anticipating a haul, the group was stunned when the contents spilled out.

“How did they amass so much treasure?” Wang Wenmei gasped, eyeing the pile.

“They were mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators,” Wang Hao reasoned. “Their pockets were deeper than ours. Plus, they knew the ruin’s layout. It’s normal they found better loot.”

Wang Yanping stared at the glimmering heap of weapons, his eyes burning. “Did they raid the Pill Cauldron Sect’s armory?”

“Very likely,” Wang Hao laughed. “There are thirteen Spirit Weapons here. Let’s each pick one first. The rest go to the family.”

With thirteen weapons, everyone could take one and still leave nine for the clan. If they took two, the clan would get scraps. They were content with a single pick; getting first choice was privilege enough.

Wang Hao turned to Wang Yanfeng. “Eighth Uncle, you missed the excitement inside. You pick first.”

Yanfeng tried to decline out of politeness, but he was cut off.

“Eighth Uncle, just pick!” Wang Wenwu urged, his hands rubbing together anxiously as he stared at a massive, golden rod. “The suspense is killing me!”

“Haha, alright then.” Wang Yanfeng reached out and claimed a yellow alchemy furnace. It was a Top-Grade Spirit Weapon—a magnificent find, likely from the sect’s vault. “I choose this.”

“Good. Who’s second?”

Wang Wenwu looked at Wang Hao, his eyes practically glued to the golden staff.

“Go ahead,” Wang Hao chuckled. “You’re a Body Cultivator. No one else here can even lift that thing, so you aren’t conflicting with anyone.”