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

It took about half an hour to walk through the maze.

Fu Hongxue suddenly stopped.

"arrive."

Ahead, the exit of the maze suddenly appeared before them—a downward stone staircase, deep and steep, leading to the third level.

There were faint traces of dark red blood on the stone steps, left by treasure hunters from some unknown dynasty.

But there was a person standing at the top of the stairs.

His white robes were as white as snow, his white hair as white as frost. The White Lotus Sect's White-Robed Dharma King. He stood with his hands behind his back, clearly not just passing by—he had waited there intentionally.

"Li Chenzhou. Did you kill the Netherworld Dharma King?"

Li Chenzhou looked at him, seeing no need to deny it.

"Yes."

A cold glint flashed in the white-robed Dharma King's eyes, but a smile curled at the corner of his lips: "Then you shall be buried with him."

Before he could finish speaking, he flashed away.

The full-force strike of a Grandmaster at the fifth level was utterly devoid of any fancy moves, delivered with a single palm strike. The palm wind surged like a raging torrent, causing the entire passage to tremble and rubble to fall from the walls.

Fu Hongxue drew his sword.

The sound of the black sword being drawn was short and sharp, like a muffled thunderclap.

The blade collided with the bare palm, producing an extremely dull and deafening sound—not the clang of metal, but the purest collision of forces.

The white-robed Dharma King took three steps back, each step leaving a footprint about an inch deep on the stone slab.

Fu Hongxue also took a step back, a scorch mark worn into the sole of his boot. His hand holding the knife was as steady as a rock, but the cuff of his sleeve had been torn by the strong wind.

The white-robed Dharma King steadied himself, his gaze slowly sweeping across Fu Hongxue's face before finally settling on the dark, unyielding knife in his hand.

"Grandmaster level five?" The white-robed Dharma King narrowed his eyes, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"The Azure Dragon Society is indeed very well-hidden. May I ask your name?"

"The Azure Dragon Society, its seven leaders, Fu Hongxue."

Fu Hongxue's voice was very flat, as flat as a lake without wind.

The white-robed Dharma King quickly weighed the options in his mind: in a one-on-one fight, the outcome between him and Fu Hongxue was fifty-fifty, and neither of them dared to say they were absolutely certain of victory; if Li Chenzhou were to make a move and fight two against one, he would have no chance of winning.

Moreover, the Azure Dragon Society has a group of men eyeing it covetously behind it.

He took a deep breath, slowly withdrew his palm, his tone still cold and hard, but less sharp:

"The Azure Dragon Society is indeed well-hidden. Today is not the time—we'll settle accounts with you once we're on the third floor."

He turned around, his white robe billowing, and walked towards the stairs without looking back. His footsteps quickly disappeared into the deep entrance.

Fu Hongxue sheathed his sword. He said in a low voice:

"This person's cultivation is solid, and his foundation is extremely stable. If it were a fight to the death, it would be difficult to determine a winner within a hundred moves."

Li Chenzhou nodded, his expression unchanged: "No need to rush. There will be opportunities on the third floor."

He raised his chin.

"Walk."

The members of the Green Dragon Society filed in, their footsteps echoing in the stairwell like a string of pebbles gradually sinking into a deep pool.

Dongfang Wei waited until the Qinglong Society members completely disappeared at the stairwell before slowly emerging from the corner where he had been hiding.

He didn't rush down.

The third level is definitely more dangerous than the second—mechanisms, restrictions, and those ruthless big shots. Sending powerful forces ahead to scout the way is always the wisest choice.

Ye Xingchen followed.

The two met unexpectedly at the top of the stairs and exchanged a glance from three steps apart.

Ye Xingchen's gaze was wary—the young man before him wore a blue robe, had a handsome face, and possessed a calm and unfathomable demeanor, like an ancient well. In places like this, those who are unfathomable are often the most dangerous.

Dongfang Weiwo smiled faintly, seemingly unconcerned about Ye Xingchen's wariness: "Not going down?"

Ye Xingchen hesitated for a moment, then tentatively asked, "Are you also a rogue cultivator?"

I guess so.

"Then why don't you go down?"

"Wait a moment. Let the important people go first, and we'll follow slowly behind. Safety first."

Ye Xingchen thought about it and felt it made a lot of sense. He relaxed a bit and extended his hand: "My name is Ye Xingchen. What's yours?"

"Eastern...Nameless."

"Nameless? What a strange name."

"It was chosen by my parents, there's nothing I can do about it."

Dongfang Wei shrugged, his expression unchanged.

The two chatted casually. Dongfang Weiwo asked some trivial questions—where they came from, how long they had been cultivating, and whether they had a master or disciple. Ye Xingchen answered honestly one by one.

Looking at the young man before him, Dongfang Weiwo suddenly felt a surge of emotion.

A chosen one. What kind of person will this young man become? Will he be a renowned prodigy? Or a powerful figure who reaches the pinnacle of power?

"Let's go." Dongfang Weiwo straightened up, patted off non-existent dust from his robe, and said, "It's time to go down."

"Um."

The two walked one after the other down the stairs leading to the third floor. Their footsteps, sometimes light and sometimes heavy, were quickly swallowed by the darkness.

The second level of the ruins, deep within the labyrinth.

The various factions traversed the maze for nearly half an hour. Some lost their way, wandering aimlessly at the forks in the road;

Some were lucky enough to find the treasure, clutching the jade box in their arms with obvious joy; others triggered the traps, were pierced by a thousand arrows or corroded by poisonous water, and remained forever in this darkness.

But Qinglong Temple was the first to find the core area of ​​the second layer.

Zen Master Liaochen walked at the very front.

The disciples of Qinglong Temple followed behind, feeling both awe and peace of mind.

"Does Uncle Master seem very familiar with this ruin?" a young disciple couldn't help but ask in a low voice.

The older disciple immediately glared at him, signaling him to shut up. But Zen Master Liaochen didn't turn around, only saying calmly:

"Fifty years ago, I came here once with my late master."

The disciples looked at each other, their eyes filled with shock.

In less than half an hour, the people from Qinglong Temple walked out of the maze and arrived in front of a huge underground hall.

The hall was hundreds of feet in circumference, and its dome was tens of feet high, inlaid with thousands of pearls.

The beads emitted a soft fluorescent light, illuminating the entire space as if it were daytime, so that even a speck of dust in the corner could not escape its sight.

In the center of the hall, dozens of stone platforms were placed. On each platform was a jade box—the jade was warm and lustrous, faintly emitting various colors of spiritual light.

Some jade boxes are surrounded by a rich and mellow fragrance of cinnabar, which makes one feel refreshed just by smelling it;

Some jade boxes revealed the sharp edge of weapons through their cracks, exuding a chilling aura; others emanated an ancient and simple fragrance, clearly containing precious jade slips containing cultivation techniques.

"Treasure!" The disciples of Qinglong Temple's eyes lit up, and some of the younger ones even took two steps forward.

"stop."

Master Liaochen's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a bucket of cold water being poured over him. Everyone stopped in their tracks.

Those were array patterns a hundred times more complex than the first layer.

"Uncle-Master, can you break it?" a disciple asked cautiously.

Master Liaochen remained silent for a moment. His gaze moved inch by inch across the array patterns, as if he were counting every single scale on the body of a sleeping behemoth.

"It can be broken," he said, "but it will take time."

He paused, raised his eyelids to look in the direction of the other passageways, and added, "Moreover, we're not the only ones coming here."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a group of people emerged from another passage.

Antarctic Sword Sect.

Ling Yunzi walked at the front, his disciples behind him all looking wary. The first thing Ling Yunzi saw was the jade boxes in the center of the hall—his pupils contracted sharply, and a barely suppressed greed flashed in his eyes.

But that greed lasted less than a breath before he forcefully suppressed it. He looked at the array patterns on the ground, his brows gradually furrowing into a knot.

He didn't act rashly. No one who lives to this age is a fool.

Immediately afterward, the Ironblood Hall arrived. Every member of the Ironblood Hall was wounded—some had suffered losses in the maze, but their morale remained high, their eyes fixed on the stone platforms like hungry wolves.

The people from Chaotian Palace also arrived. They marched steadily, their formation was well-maintained, and it was clear that they had not suffered many losses along the way.

The Blood Demon Cult suffered the worst, with only half of its original members remaining.

But the murderous aura emanating from them was even stronger than when they arrived—the dead had become the fuel burning in their hearts.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Garrison Command arrived almost simultaneously. The two official forces exchanged a glance, neither speaking, but a subtle tension filled the air.

The Green Dragon Society was among the last to arrive.

Li Chenzhou deliberately slowed down, letting those ahead scout ahead. By the time the Azure Dragon Society members appeared at the entrance to the hall, the hall was already filled with people from various factions.

Dozens of stone platforms, hundreds of eyes staring.

Each jade box is priceless, and each treasure is enough to ignite a bloody battle.

But no one moved—because the formation on the ground was like a sleeping ancient beast, and no one wanted to be the one to wake it up.

The atmosphere was so heavy it seemed like it could drip water.

No one spoke; only the cold light of the pearl shone on everyone's face.

In this suffocating silence, there was one person who never looked at the treasures.

Zen Master Liaochen.

He remained standing, the prayer beads slowly turning between his fingers, his gaze calmly sweeping over everyone present—not looking at their faces, but at their level of cultivation. Whoever his gaze passed over felt as if an invisible gust of cold wind had swept over them, their hair standing on end.

No one dared to meet his gaze.

Grandmaster, Seventh Heaven.

An old monster who entered this realm thirty years ago. The abbot's junior brother of Qinglong Temple, who has been out of touch with worldly affairs for twenty years, everyone thought he had passed away in some meditation room—but he just stands here, like a silent mountain.

The leaders of all the factions present were quickly calculating in their minds.

The leader of the Iron Blood Hall gritted his teeth: Seventh Heaven... at least two minor realms higher than everyone present. If a fight were to break out...

Ling Yunzi lowered his eyes. He had originally thought that he could compete with the sword formation of the Antarctic Sword Sect, but at this moment his hand unconsciously tightened on the sword hilt, his knuckles turning white.

The Blood Demon Cult's protector was even more decisive—he took a half-step back and hid himself behind the crowd.

Li Chenzhou also glanced at Chen.

Master Liaochen seemed to sense that gaze. He slightly turned his head and glanced at Li Chenzhou.

The old man and the young man stared at each other across the entire hall for the duration of a single breath.

Master Liaochen said nothing, withdrew his gaze, and continued turning his prayer beads.

Dozens of stone platforms, hundreds of eyes staring.

The atmosphere was so heavy it seemed like it could drip water.