Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

Until news of the ruins of the Endless Mountains arrived.

That night, Ye Xingchen sat cross-legged on the roof, gazing at the moon in the sky.

The old man's voice echoed in my mind: "Young man, you can find what you need in the ruins. To fully open the Nine Yin Meridians, you need ancient elixirs. Ordinary elixirs won't work; you need ancient ones. There must be some in the ruins."

"Grandpa, are you sure?"

"I've lived for countless millennia, what haven't I seen? I could smell the aura emanating from those ruins from eight hundred miles away—it's the scent of ancient celestial herbs. There are at least three of them."

Ye Xingchen clenched his fist.

"I'll go."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I'm scared. But I'm even more scared of being called a good-for-nothing for the rest of my life."

He glanced back at the high walls of the Ye residence.

Fifteen years.

Fifteen years of ridicule, bullying, and contempt...

His eyes were slightly red, but he quickly regained his composure.

"I want to become stronger." He clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white, "strong enough that no one can call me trash anymore."

He turned and disappeared into the night.

A small town on the outskirts of the endless mountains.

The town is small, with only one main street. It's usually so quiet you can hear the wind rustling through the leaves, but these past few days it's been bustling like a market.

The inn is fully booked.

The restaurant was packed.

Even the few dilapidated houses at the edge of town that were usually uninhabited were rented out at high prices.

Martial artists from all walks of life gathered.

At the eastern end of the town, there is the Qingfeng Inn.

This is the largest inn in town, a three-story wooden building with a faded wine flag hanging at the entrance. The lobby has over a dozen tables, all full of people.

The noise, the sounds of drinking games, the clash of weapons, the cursing... all mixed together, like a pot of boiling porridge.

Dongfang Weiwo sat in the corner by the window.

He wore an ordinary blue robe, looking no different from those rogue cultivators at the Innate Realm. His aura was also concealed at the early Innate Realm level, not attracting attention, but not so much that he would be taken advantage of.

On the table was a pot of tea and a dish of peanuts.

His gaze seemed to casually sweep across the lobby, but in reality, he didn't miss a single detail.

The Imperial Guards sat around a large table in the center, six or seven men, each with a stern face and an embroidered spring knife at their waist. Leading them was a middle-aged man in a black brocade robe, his aura as deep and unfathomable as an abyss—a Grandmaster.

The officers from the Zhenfu Division sat on the other side, while Xuanpan, wearing a bronze mask, sat alone at a table, and no one dared to approach within three feet of him.

Several rogue cultivators at the Grandmaster level each occupied a corner, closed their eyes to rest, and ignored each other.

There were also some disciples from smaller sects huddled on the long bench, whispering to each other with excited expressions.

"There are so many people."

Dongfang Weiwo picked up his teacup, took a sip, and pondered silently.

With so many forces gathered, the probability of a chosen one emerging is extremely high.

Isn't that how it's always written in novels from my past life? When a relic emerges, heroes gather, and the chosen ones are inevitably among them. They may be of humble origins or possess extraordinary talents, but they will all distinguish themselves in this struggle.

What he needs to do is find those chosen ones in the ruins and plunder their destiny.

As for the treasures in the ruins...

Take it if you can, don't force it if you can't. Anyway, the Azure Dragon Society will make a move, and in the end it will still be his.

"However..." His gaze lingered on the Jinyiwei and Zhenfusi personnel for a moment before casually shifting away, "The imperial court has also arrived. It seems the items in the ruins are indeed extraordinary."

He took another sip of tea.

The tea is very bitter.

But the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing a smile.

Ximen Chuixue was in the shadows.

Three days later.

The outer edge of the Endless Mountains.

The golden light was so intense it was blinding, like a sun fallen to earth, illuminating every detail of the mountains within a hundred miles. Spiritual energy, like tangible waves, surged from the depths of the mountains, washing over the meridians of everyone present.

Five times – the concentration of spiritual energy has surged to more than five times the usual level.

Some martial artists who had been stuck at their bottlenecks for years felt their internal energy stirring just by standing there and breathing. Some even sat down cross-legged on the spot, attempting to break through.

The sound of the barrier shattering grew more and more frequent, a series of "crackling" sounds like shattering glass or cracking ice, echoing continuously from the depths of the mountains, crisp and piercing.

Everyone knows that the ruins are about to open.

Representatives from various factions arrived one after another.

The Antarctic Sword Sect's camp was set up on a flat grassland at the foot of the mountain.

Ling Yunzi stood with his hands behind his back, his robes fluttering slightly in the breeze of spiritual energy. His gaze was as calm as an ancient well, revealing no ripples, but his eyes never left the stone gate in the distance.

Ling Xiaozi stood beside him, one hand on the hilt of his sword. His expression seemed casual, but his gaze swept over the other forces around him like that of a hawk.

Behind him, dozens of disciples of the Antarctic Sword Sect sat cross-legged, their long swords resting on their knees, their auras concentrated and unleashed.

"Senior brother, we've arrived at the Iron Blood Hall." Ling Xiaozi turned his head slightly.

Ling Yunzi didn't turn around, but simply hummed in agreement.

The Iron Blood Hall's troops came from the west, kicking up clouds of dust.

Iron Knife King rode a tall, black horse. His broad back and powerful build caused his towering frame to rise and fall slightly with each step. A thick-backed broadsword hung at his waist, the tiger head relief on its scabbard gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

Behind him, more than a hundred elite members of the Iron Blood Hall followed on foot, their steps synchronized and their killing intent palpable.

Rein in.

Iron Saber King dismounted and strode towards the Antarctic Sword Sect's camp. With each step, the ground trembled slightly.

"Brother Ling!" His voice, rough as thunder, boomed from afar, "You've arrived early!"

Ling Yunzi turned around and cupped his hands slightly: "Iron Saber King is not late either."

Iron Knife King approached, his tiger-like eyes sweeping over the Antarctic Sword Sect's ranks, lingering on the disciples for a moment before looking away.

"Where are the people from Chaotian Palace?"

"Not yet," Ling Yunzi said calmly, "but it should be soon."

"That old Taoist priest is so slow," Iron Knife King snorted, plopped down on a large rock next to him, and waved his hand. "Let's not wait for him. Let's discuss this first."

Ling Yunzi did not reply, but simply nodded slightly.

The people from Chaotian Palace arrived half an hour later.

Leading the group was Master Chaotian's eldest disciple—Master Qingfeng. He was in his forties, with a handsome face, wearing a blue Taoist robe, holding a whisk, and walking without making a sound, like a falling leaf drifting by.

He was followed by more than ten disciples, each of whom possessed considerable power.

"Master Qingfeng." Ling Yunzi nodded slightly.

"Senior Ling." Daoist Qingfeng bowed respectfully, his voice clear and melodious like spring water. "My master asked me to convey his greetings to you. Regarding the matter of the relics, Chaotian Palace is willing to stand with the Antarctic Sword Sect and the Iron Blood Hall."

"Stand together through thick and thin?" Iron Knife King scoffed, rising from the large rock and looking down at Qingfeng Daoist. "Why isn't your master here?"

"My master has been in seclusion recently, trying to comprehend the secrets of heaven, and has no time to spare." Qingfeng Daoist's face showed no dissatisfaction, and he still wore a gentle smile. "But my master said that every move of Chaotian Palace will be decided by this junior."

Iron Knife King stared at him for a moment, snorted, and said nothing more.

Ling Yunzi saw all of this, his lips twitched slightly, but he remained silent.

Standing together through thick and thin?

Everyone has their own agenda.