Rise of the Wang Clan: Starting with a Portable Farm

Chapter 231: Song Churan

Moments later, the duo stepped into a cavern dwelling that was breathtakingly vast.

The ceiling soared over twenty zhang overhead, supported by massive white pillars carved with coiling dragons. But the true marvel was the roof itself—it was the bottom of the underground lake. There was no stone barrier, only a shimmering, translucent force field holding back millions of tons of water.

Wang Hao and Wang Guang’an stared at the intricate runes etched into the dragon pillars. Most were beyond their comprehension, but they recognized snippets of high-level Water Avoidance Formations. These ancient formations were the only thing preventing the lake from crashing down and drowning them.

The dwelling was divided into several rooms. Fearful of traps, Wang Guang’an insisted they stick together.

They entered the first room: a study. Unlike the barren chambers above, this room was untouched by time. The airtight seal of the formations had preserved everything perfectly. Bookshelves were lined with scrolls, and paintings adorned the walls.

On a central desk lay a set of exquisite writing tools: brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Every single item was at least a Spirit Weapon.

But the centerpiece was a heavy paperweight carved from purple jade.

Wang Guang’an picked it up, his hand trembling slightly.

“Third Rank Low Grade,” he whispered, his eyes wide with disbelief. “It’s a Dharma Treasure.”

To think he had nearly sold his life to Jin Heng for the Three Flames Fan, yet here, he had stumbled upon another treasure with zero effort.

Although the Purple Jade Paperweight was only Low Grade—an entry-level Dharma Treasure compared to the Middle Grade fan—it was perfect for him. The fan was powerful but consumed Qi voraciously. The paperweight, however, matched his current cultivation level perfectly. He could wield it effortlessly.

More importantly, the fan was a gift from Jin Heng. The Qingyuan Sect master undoubtedly knew its weaknesses and how to counter it. This paperweight was a wild card. If Jin Heng tried to ambush him in the Secret Realm, this unknown artifact could be the difference between life and death.

“Congratulations, Ancestor!” Wang Hao beamed. “This trip was worth the risk.”

There was no jealousy. A stronger Ancestor meant a safer Wang family. Besides, Wang Hao had already secured the Life Spirit Fire; his harvest was equally bountiful.

Wang Guang’an stroked his beard, laughing heartily. “Let us search the rest. Look through those paintings and books. There may be clues hidden within.”

Wang Hao picked up a scroll and unrolled it.

It was an ink wash painting depicting three young cultivators—two men and one woman—standing before a majestic mountain gate. They were smiling, their eyes full of youthful hope. The plaque on the gate read: Gui Ran Sect.

Wang Hao touched the paper. “Second Rank Spirit Paper. And the ink… Second Rank Spirit Ink.”

He looked at the shelves, stacked high with hundreds of similar scrolls. His heart ached with phantom pain.

These materials were worth a fortune. A single sheet of Second Rank High Grade paper could be cut into dozens of talisman blanks, each worth a thousand Spirit Stones. Yet, the artist had used them for… ordinary paintings. No runes, no formations. Just art.

“What a waste of natural resources,” Wang Hao muttered, shaking his head. “Over a hundred thousand Spirit Stones, used for doodling.”

He sighed and moved to the next scroll. Different background, same subjects. The three friends exploring a forest. The three friends sharing a meal. The three friends training.

He counted over 170 paintings. Every single one featured the same trio.

Meanwhile, Wang Guang’an was skimming through the journals.

“The artist was no ordinary cultivator,” Wang Hao deduced. “To afford these materials just for sentimental art, they must have been at least a Golden Core cultivator. The theme is clear: nostalgia. Deep, painful nostalgia.”

Wang Guang’an handed him a thick, leather-bound book. “You are right. This journal chronicles their lives. It seems we have stumbled upon a tragedy.”

Wang Hao took the book and began to read, his eyes scanning the pages with the speed of a currency counter.

The story revolved around three names: Song Churan, Yan Yue, and Yang Xuan.

All three were prodigies of the Gui Ran Sect.

Song Churan possessed an Ice Spirit Root. Her background was humble; her father was a mere outer disciple.

The men were different. Yan Yue (Wind Spirit Root) was the descendant of the Sect Master. Yang Xuan (Earth Heaven Spirit Root) was the scion of the Supreme Elder. Both were born into the stratosphere of the cultivation world.

Despite the status gap, the three grew up together, inseparable since childhood. Song Churan, beautiful and gentle, became the heart of their trio, doted on by both boys.

The early chapters were filled with heartwarming tales of their youth. But as they grew, the innocence faded. Friendship curdled into a cliché love triangle.

Song Churan loved them both as brothers. She couldn’t choose.

Yan Yue and Yang Xuan, however, saw her indecision as a challenge. Their rivalry began as friendly competition but quickly turned toxic. Their families, seeing the potential of a union with Song Churan (a future Nascent Soul seed), poured oil on the fire, encouraging the boys to outdo each other.

You reached Foundation Establishment at 17? Fine. I won’t even use a pill.

You conquered a secret realm? Watch me win a war for the sect.

They pushed each other to greatness, shining like twin suns in the sky of the Gui Ran Sect. But their brilliance cast a long shadow.

Their rivalry deepened as they ascended to the Golden Core and eventually the Nascent Soul stage.

It was exacerbated by their opposing philosophies. Yan Yue was a Sword Cultivator, trusting in speed and offense. Yang Xuan was a Spell Cultivator, a master of impenetrable defense. Their personal feud polarized the entire sect, splitting the disciples into two hostile factions: the Sword Faction and the Spell Faction.

As the old guard of Nascent Soul elders died off, the restraints on them vanished. When the old Sect Master finally sat in meditation and passed away, the dam broke.

Who would lead the Gui Ran Sect?

Neither man would back down. Their factions wouldn’t let them.

The War of Sword and Qi erupted, and the sect began to bleed.