“Wenyan, do we have a name? Who threw the first stone?”

Wang Wenyan shook her head, her face drawn and shadowed by exhaustion. “We investigated immediately, Fifth Brother, but our reach is short. The attack was coordinated—nearly every small and medium-sized shop in the district slashed their prices overnight. It’s impossible to pinpoint the puppet master. The only mercy is that the great merchant houses haven’t deigned to join the slaughter.”

Tracing the web of competitors would take years they didn’t have. It was a dead end.

“The great houses don’t concern themselves with crumbs,” Wang Wenmei interjected, her voice calm. “Since Fifth Brother is returning to Green Bull Market, perhaps the best tactic is simply to endure. They cannot sustain these loss-leader prices forever. We have a fresh injection of capital from the demon beast hunt; let them bleed their profits while we wait them out.”

“That is our only viable move,” Wenyan admitted, rubbing her temples. “My only fear is customer retention. If our regulars cultivate the habit of shopping elsewhere, winning them back will be a war in itself.”

Wang Hao drummed his fingers on the table. “I will refine a batch of Face Preserving Pills before I leave. We’ll use them as strategic leverage—bait to keep our high-value clients hooked. Uncle Wenfeng, you’ll need to work overtime on Qi Gathering Pills to maintain the baseline stock. The rest can wait.”

His gaze shifted, heavy and cold, to the figure kneeling on the floor.

Wang Wenxiu trembled under the scrutiny. The room went deathly silent.

“As for you, Wenxiu,” Wang Hao sighed, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “A circle cannot be drawn without a compass, and a clan cannot stand without rules. You ran your mouth, and now the family pays the price.”

Wang Hao paused, letting the weight of the sentence settle like lead. “You are disqualified from receiving a Foundation Establishment Pill.”

Wenxiu slumped as if his strings had been cut. Tears welled in his eyes, but he bit his lip, remaining silent.

“However,” Wang Hao continued, his tone softening slightly, “do not despair. I will not expel you. You will remain here in Wanxiang City. If you work diligently, reform your character, and prove your loyalty, the door is not permanently closed. Your ultimate fate will be decided by the Clan Head upon my return.”

“Thank you, Fifth Brother!” Wenxiu choked out, pressing his forehead to the floorboards. He had feared exile to the mortal world. Staying in Wanxiang City, with its rich spiritual energy and the shop’s high wages, meant he still had a path, however steep.

“Go.” Wang Hao waved a hand.

As Wenxiu retreated, Wang Hao felt a pang of regret. He had brought nine promising youths to this city, and stripping one of his future was a blow to the clan’s potential. Yet, compared to the graves of Wang Wenjin and Wang Yanlang, Wenxiu was lucky to still be breathing.

Wang Hao turned back to his sister. “Wenyan, your cultivation has stagnated. You’ve buried yourself in ledgers at the expense of your own power. That ends now. I intended to secure a pill for you immediately, but your current mental state is too turbulent. I will leave your pill with Eighth Uncle.”

He looked at Wang Wenfeng. “Uncle, you are the guardrail. Ensure she balances the business with her training.”

“Rest assured,” Wang Wenfeng nodded solemnly. “With everyone back, we can rotate shifts. I will take the helm so Wenyan can enter seclusion.”

“Good. I trust you, Uncle.” Wang Hao leaned back, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Now, logistics. I’m taking the Golden Core level cultivation techniques back to the main branch. Make copies for yourselves immediately. When the time is right, switch your cultivation methods.”

The elders nodded, eyes lighting up. The legacy they had uncovered in the ruins was transformative; it would allow the Wang family to nurture a new generation of artisans and warriors.

“As for finances,” Wang Hao continued, “the expedition yielded roughly five hundred thousand Spirit Stones in value. After distribution and debt repayment to the Li family, I am taking two hundred fifty thousand back to the clan. We’ll leave enough here for operations. Also, we shouldn’t sell all the raw materials here; they’ll fetch a higher price back home and stimulate our own artisans.”

“A sound plan,” Wang Wenyan said, her business instincts overriding her fatigue. “We should also procure local specialties to resell. I recommend ‘Storage Beads.’ They are crafted from clam pearls—smaller capacity than bags, but significantly cheaper. If we string a dozen together, they rival a high-grade storage bag at a fraction of the cost.”

Wang Yanping slapped the table, beaming. “Brilliant! Fifth Brother needs to haul a mountain of goods; these beads will make transport much easier.”

“And Foundation Establishment Pills,” Wang Wenwu spoke up, his voice hesitant. “The main family struggles to procure them. Why don’t we… pool our personal shares of Spirit Stones? We could buy whatever is available in the city to send back.”

The room went quiet. It was a selfless suggestion, bordering on foolish for individuals who had known poverty for so long.

“I have no objection,” Wang Wenmei stated, her voice firm. “Without the clan and Fifth Brother, I would be nothing. Take my share.”

“Agreed,” another elder chimed in. “A stronger family means a safer future for us all.”

Wang Hao smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through his chest. This was the foundation of a true powerhouse—not spirit stones, but unity. “Since you all possess such resolve, I accept. But the clan will not seize your private wealth. Consider this a loan; when the treasury overflows, you will be repaid.”

He stood up. “It is decided. Spend the next few days preparing the cargo. I will handle the pill procurement. Dismissed.”

Hundreds of miles away, the atmosphere was far colder.

Giant Crab Island lived up to its name. The island was a geographical predator, its main landmass flanked by two long, curved peninsulas that hooked into the sea like the pincers of a leviathan. At its heart lay a Mid-Tier 3 spirit vein, the beating heart of the Ji Family.

In a dimly lit secret chamber, the air was heavy enough to crush bone.

Ji Linfeng, the Golden Core Patriarch of the Ji clan, sat on the dais. His hair and beard were stark white, and his eyes were hard as flint. He swept his gaze over the gathered elders before locking onto a young woman.

“Xiaotang,” he said, his voice low but resonating with power. “Speak. How did we lose so many kinsmen?”

The Ji family was a young power, having only produced a Golden Core ancestor five hundred years ago. They had moved to this island specifically to target the Pill Cauldron Sect ruins, growing rapidly in the rich maritime environment. Ji Linfeng was the architect of their golden age.

But recent decades had been cruel. A brutal war with the Huang family had culled a third of their low-level disciples and left them with only seven Foundation Establishment elders. They were just recovering when this expedition turned into a massacre.

Misfortunes never come singly, Ji Linfeng thought bitterly.

Before Ji Xiaotang could answer, a young man stepped forward, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Old Ancestor,” Ji Xiaomo stammered. “It… it wasn’t our fault! The ruins were a death trap. Countless Tier 2 beasts, even Tier 3 great demons roaming the halls!”

“Is that so?” The elders murmured in shock.

“Sit down!” A middle-aged man, Ji Fushou, snapped at the boy. He was a Foundation Establishment cultivator of the seventh layer and Xiaomo’s direct uncle. He glared at his nephew to shut up before he dug a deeper grave. “Let Xiaotang speak.”

Ji Xiaotang stood, her posture rigid and respectful. “Yes, Third Uncle.”

She took a steadying breath and began her report. She detailed the encounter with the Wang family ship and the subsequent exploration. However, with a politician’s grace, she surgically excised the details of the spirit vein and her personal interactions with Wang Hao.

“We have entered a temporary alliance with the Wang clan leader,” she concluded, keeping her face impassive.

The elders listened, rapt. Their expressions shifted from horror at the descriptions of the dangers, to relief at the survival of the core members, and finally to greed as she listed the medicinal harvest.