Rise of the Wang Clan: Starting with a Portable Farm

Chapter 234: Divine Ability Fruit

“Regardless of how much we harvest, it is pure profit for the Wang family.” Wang Guang’an held the Purple Void Token in his hand, his eyes shining with satisfaction. He had already secured two Nascent Soul cultivation methods and a map of a legendary secret realm. To ask for more would be greed.

The token was useless to them for now—and too dangerous to reveal. It would remain a family secret until the clan produced more Golden Core cultivators to wield it properly.

“Ancestor is wise,” Wang Hao agreed. “However, given the sensitivity of this location, we must delay any large-scale development. The more people involved, the higher the risk of leaks. And He Qing… he must be silenced.”

Wang Guang’an nodded gravely. “Indeed. Not a third soul can know of this inner sanctum. But we cannot leave it unmanned either. If outsiders stumble upon it, we would lose everything without knowing.”

Wang Hao’s expression turned serious as he formulated a plan. “We will dispatch a small team—perhaps ten trustworthy clansmen—to the outer mine. Their mission will be to tend the Spirit Fields and raise beasts, just like a standard mining outpost. Their rotation will be long—ten years or more—to minimize traffic. They will grow their own Spirit Rice to reduce supply runs.”

“As for the inner sanctum,” Wang Hao continued, gesturing to the tunnel, “we will reseal the entrance to the Spirit Vein. If we stop the leakage of spiritual water, the Qi density in the underground river will drop. The mutated fish will vanish. To any explorer, it will look like a mundane subterranean river, unworthy of deep investigation.”

“Thoughtful,” Wang Guang’an praised. “We will proceed as you say. The family’s main thrust remains overseas for now. I hope the Medicine Garden still holds some value.”

He pointed to the portrait on the wall. “We have received the Gui Ran Sect’s inheritance. Let us pay our respects to the Senior.”

Wang Hao nodded. They approached the painting of Song Churan. With solemn expressions, they bowed three times, performing the full ceremonial rites of a junior to a master.

As they rose from the final bow, a strange phenomenon occurred.

A faint light flashed in the painted eyes of Song Churan. Her expression, previously static, seemed to shift into a smile of gratification.

Before the two men could react to the eerie change, a mechanical click echoed through the silent room.

Crack.

The Yellow Yang Warm Jade Bed split down the center. A hidden compartment opened, and a jade box rose from within.

Wang Hao and Wang Guang’an exchanged a look of shock. They suppressed their surprise and approached cautiously. After testing for traps and finding none, they opened the box.

Inside lay another letter and three jade slips.

They read the letter. Cold sweat instantly drenched their backs.

The jade slips they had found earlier on the bed? Fakes.

Song Churan had altered the techniques within them. Anyone who practiced them would cultivate smoothly until the Foundation Establishment stage—and then hit a wall. Forcing progress would cause their cultivation to regress until their Spiritual Energy dissipated entirely.

It was a test. A test of identity, and a test of respect.

The Gui Ran Sect maintained portraits of all its Nascent Soul ancestors. A true disciple would recognize Song Churan instantly. A respectful junior would bow. Only by performing the proper rites could the hidden mechanism be triggered, revealing the true inheritance.

Wang Guang’an stored the real jade box with trembling hands. Wang Hao reassembled the bed, his heart pounding. The methods of a Nascent Soul cultivator were terrifying. Even after thousands of years, her trap remained lethal.

“I… I am taking Senior’s bed. I hope she doesn’t mind,” Wang Hao muttered, a stray thought crossing his mind. He quickly shook his head. Don’t think about it. What if she left a soul fragment like Lord Lieyang?

Unfortunately, the treasures in the other room—the Dharma Treasures and the crafting legacies—remained locked behind the unbreakable formation. They would have to wait until Wang Guang’an’s cultivation advanced.

They bowed to the portrait one last time, with significantly more reverence, and left the dwelling.

They headed straight for the Spirit Medicine Garden.

The protective formation here was weak—barely Second Rank Low Grade. Wang Guang’an shattered it with a casual wave of his hand.

As they expected, the garden was in ruins. Weeds choked the soil. Most of the spirit plants had withered and died centuries ago.

Only a few stubborn survivors remained in the center.

Wang Hao walked over to a small, gnarled tree. He had never seen it in person, but he recognized the description from the ancient texts.

“Is this… a Divine Ability Fruit Tree?” he asked, his voice hushed.

The garden was ten acres in size, originally hosting over a dozen fruit trees. Now, only two remained, clinging to life.

The tree Wang Hao was examining stood just over ten feet tall. It resembled an apple tree, but its leaves were crimson red, and its fruit glowed with a metallic gold luster.

Wang Guang’an inspected it and nodded, a look of regret crossing his face. “It is dying. It is stunted compared to a healthy specimen. But look—two fruits remain. And they are ripe.”

“Two Divine Ability Fruits,” Wang Guang’an calculated. “That is worth at least over 100,000 Spirit Stones.”

Wang Hao stared at the golden fruits, covered in profound, swirling patterns. His eyes burned with desire.

Divine Ability Fruit.

As the name suggested, consuming it allowed a cultivator to Awaken an innate Divine Ability. The specific ability depended on the user’s cultivation method and Spirit Roots. Although these awakened abilities were often weaker than those learned through enlightenment, for a Foundation Establishment cultivator, gaining an extra innate power was a game-changer.

Only major sects could afford to cultivate these trees for their core disciples. It took 800 years to bear fruit, and then only produced a handful every 300 years.

“Ancestor,” Wang Hao said, turning to him. “If you consume one, you could quickly gain a Divine Ability. It would greatly increase your strength for the overseas expansion.”

Wang Guang’an shook his head firmly. “No. Such abilities are too weak for a Golden Core cultivator. It would be a waste. These are for you and Yanzhao.”

Wang Hao realized he was right. A Golden Core cultivator’s casual strike carried the weight of the heavens; a minor awakened ability would be a redundant “chicken rib”—tasteless to eat, but a pity to throw away. For a Foundation Establishment cultivator, however, it was a massive power spike.

Wang Guang’an crushed several Middle Grade Spirit Stones and buried the dust around the tree’s roots. The withered red leaves seemed to regain a fraction of their luster.

“It can be saved,” he said, satisfied. “In the future, the Wang family’s elite will have another trump card.”

“You intend to leave it here?” Wang Hao asked.

“The tree is too weak to transplant,” Wang Guang’an explained. “Moving it now would kill it. Besides, the overseas base is still unstable; we shouldn’t put all our eggs in one basket. This place is hidden. With the Vine Demon dead, the Spirit Vein will recover. We cannot let these fields lie fallow.”

“But without a trusted guard…” Wang Hao worried. “It’s too far from home. If something happens, we can’t reinforce it.”

Wang Guang’an smiled, the confidence of a century-old patriarch radiating from him.

“With the treasures Senior Song left us, we have the resources to be bold. I have decided on a new strategy. We will expand towards this location slowly. We will conquer the Spirit Mountains between here and Wang Family Ridge, one by one, creating a chain of fortified stepping stones.”

“It will take time—perhaps five mountains need to be taken. But once the chain is complete, this secret base will be connected to our territory. Then, we can move clansmen here openly.”

Wang Hao’s eyes lit up. He saw the genius in the plan instantly.

“We can establish market towns along the route,” Wang Hao added, his commercial instincts kicking in. “This area borders the Broken Origin Mountain Range. Rogue cultivators flock here to hunt Demon Beasts. If we offer fair prices and safe shelter, we could build a trade corridor that rivals Qingniu Market.”

“And if rogue cultivators wish to join us,” he continued, “we can assign them the lower-grade mountains as fiefs. In a few hundred years, the Wang family will control a vast network of vassal forces, all shielding our core.”