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

"Gentlemen."

Zen Master Liaochen spoke first.

"The formation here has not yet been broken; forcibly entering will only result in mutual destruction."

He paused, the prayer beads slowly spinning between his fingers, "This old monk proposes that all parties join forces to break the formation, and the treasures... shall be distributed according to the teams."

"How should it be allocated?"

Iron Knife King's voice was as rough as a knife. His tiger-like eyes were wide open as he surveyed his surroundings, his hand already on the hilt of his sword—ready to turn on them at any moment.

It seems that Zen Master Liaochen had anticipated this problem long ago.

He smiled slightly, a gentle smile that commanded respect: "Distribute fairly based on the number of people and their abilities."

He paused, his gaze slowly shifting from Iron Knife King to Ling Yunzi, then sweeping over Qingfeng Daoist and Elder Blood Shadow, finally lingering on Li Chenzhou's face for a moment.

"Or," he continued, his tone still calm, "it's all up to skill—whoever gets it after breaking the formation keeps it."

The latter proposal was like a stone thrown into stagnant water.

Everyone's eyes changed.

Each must rely on their own abilities—that means a fight is inevitable.

"Let's rely on our own abilities."

Ling Yunzi said calmly, with a hint of arrogance in his tone, "The path of cultivation is one where the strong are respected. What kind of skill is it to rely on the charity of others?"

When he said the word "others," he glanced at Zen Master Liaochen out of the corner of his eye.

Master Liaochen did not look at him, but simply lowered his head and counted his prayer beads.

Iron Knife King grinned, revealing a set of white teeth:

"Agreed. What you grab is yours; it's perfectly fair."

Qingfeng Daoist hesitated for a moment.

He glanced at the Chaotian Palace disciples beside him—not many in number, but each one possessed solid cultivation. In terms of fair distribution, Chaotian Palace wouldn't get much; but in terms of competition… they had a bit of confidence.

He nodded without saying anything.

The Blood Shadow Elder of the Blood Demon Cult had lost an arm. He gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with resentment and bitterness. He hated the traps in the maze, hated those who took advantage of the chaos, hated everyone.

"Each relies on their own abilities."

Yan Jingchen, a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, stood with his hands behind his back.

He did not object.

The stern-faced officer of the Zhenfu Division remained silent, his expression unreadable behind the mask. He merely nodded slightly, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible.

Zen Master Liaochen sighed.

The sigh was soft, but everyone heard it. Like a gust of wind passing through the empty hall, it carried away the last trace of politeness.

"Since that's the case, then let's rely on our own abilities. But let me make this clear beforehand—whoever strikes first will face my wrath."

He lifted his eyelids.

Those murky eyes, which held a sharp glint, slowly swept over everyone present.

No one dared to disregard his words.

but.

Everyone knows in their hearts that in the face of a great opportunity, being polite is foolish.

The formation breaking has begun.

Inside the hall, a dozen or so Grandmasters and peak Grandmasters simultaneously attacked the nodes of the formation in the most direct and violent way.

Li Chenzhou made the first move.

He took a step forward and threw a punch.

That punch had no fancy moves, it was just straight and direct—but the intent of the punch was as vast as the sky, reigning supreme. The moment the fist struck the array patterns, the entire hall trembled, and several bright pearls on the dome were shaken off, bouncing a few times on the ground before rolling into the darkness.

Ling Yunzi slashed down with his sword.

The swordsmanship of the Antarctic Sword Sect is renowned for its ferocity, and this strike was no exception. The sword energy, like a white rainbow piercing the sun, struck another node in the formation, emitting a sharp shriek. After the sword energy dissipated, a deep crack remained on the formation's patterns.

Master Liaochen made the final move.

He raised his right hand, the movement as slow as waving a sleeve in water. He struck out with his palm—there was no sound, no wind, only a golden Buddhist light surging from his palm, washing over the ground like a tide.

Wherever the Buddha's light passed, the array patterns melted and vanished silently, as if encountering thin ice in a raging fire.

Iron Knife King unleashed a fierce slash, the blade's energy cascading like a waterfall.

Qingfeng Daoist pointed his fingers like a sword, and streaks of blue light shot out.

Yan Jingchen struck out with his palm, the wind from which was as soft and serpentine as a snake.

Iron Face threw out both fists simultaneously, their force as steady as iron.

After an incense stick has burned.

"—Click."

A faint, crisp sound, like something breaking.

Immediately afterwards, a series of cracking sounds followed, like cracks spreading across ice. One by one, the patterns on the hall floor went out, and the dark red light quickly dimmed.

The formation shattered completely.

"boom--!"

I don't know who shouted it first.

"Rob"

Or perhaps no one shouted at all—everyone rushed out at the same time.

A chaotic battle broke out.

In the hall, dozens of stone platforms were teeming with hundreds of figures. The clash of swords, the force of palm strikes and fist punches, and the brilliance of magical treasures overshadowed the radiance of the pearls filling the room.

The disciples of the Antarctic Sword Sect are the fastest.

Their lightness skill is based on swordsmanship; their movements are as swift as swallows skimming the water, and they can leap several feet away with just a touch of their toes on the ground.

The three disciples rushed to the stone platform closest to them almost simultaneously, grabbed the jade box, and stuffed it into their robes.

But before they could turn around, the Iron Blood Hall members had already arrived.

"Leave!"

Iron Saber King's voice boomed like thunder. He slashed down with his blade, the energy of which cascaded like a waterfall, forcing the three disciples of the Antarctic Sword Sect to retreat repeatedly. The disciples of the Iron Blood Hall seized the opportunity to pounce and snatch the two jade boxes.

"court death!"

Ling Yunzi's voice was as cold as an icicle. He turned and thrust his sword at Iron Saber King, the blade gleaming with sharp sword energy, hissing as it struck.

Iron Knife King raised his sword to parry.

"clang--!"

The clang of metal against metal was so loud that it made the eardrums of several people with slightly lower cultivation levels hurt, and their faces turned pale. Amidst the flying sparks, the two men each took three steps back, neither gaining the upper hand. Iron Blade King's hand went numb, and Ling Yunzi's wrist trembled slightly—their cultivation levels were evenly matched, and neither could do anything to the other.

The people of Chaotian Palace did not participate in the central government's internal strife.

Qingfeng Daoist led his disciples silently toward the inconspicuous stone platforms in the corner of the hall. He concealed his presence using the secret techniques of Chaotian Palace, his figure appearing and disappearing in the shadows of the gleaming pearl, thus avoiding the attention of most people.

"Take what you need and leave." Qingfeng Daoist's voice was so low that only his disciples could hear it. "Don't linger."

The Blood Cult members suffered the most.

Elder Blood Shadow lost an arm, greatly reducing his combat strength, and more than half of his followers were also killed on the first floor. They fought desperately to snatch a jade box, and before they could even rejoice, the Imperial Guards had already swarmed around them like vultures.

"People from the Blood Demon Cult dare to join in the fun?"

Yan Jingchen's voice carried a laugh, but that laugh sent chills down one's spine. He stood with his hands behind his back, not even making a move himself—he merely raised his chin, and the elite Imperial Guards behind him swarmed forward.

Elder Blood Shadow barely managed to withstand two blows, spitting out a mouthful of blood, his face turning from pale to ashen. He was unwilling, but he was even more afraid of death.

"Walk!"

He gritted his teeth, let out a low growl, and turned to flee. The jade box he had so painstakingly snatched fell into the hands of the Imperial Guards.

Yan Jingchen took the jade box, weighed it in his hand, chuckled, and turned to look elsewhere.

The Iron Face of the Garrison Command did not participate in the struggle.

He and his men stood guard at the entrance, arms crossed, watching coldly.

His task was to monitor the movements of all parties and report everything that was happening here to the imperial court—looting treasures? That was the business of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, not the Zhenfu Division.

But his gaze never left Li Chenzhou and Fu Hongxue.

The people at Qinglong Temple are the most reliable.

Master Liaochen did not personally intervene. He simply stood in the center of the hall, slightly to the west, with prayer beads in his hand, calmly observing everything before him.

But his disciples methodically navigated the gaps in the melee, collecting the dozen or so jade boxes scattered along the edges. No one tried to snatch the hot items in the center, nor did anyone provoke anyone.

No one dared to provoke Qinglong Temple.

The Iron Blood Hall members rushed up to the Qinglong Temple disciples, but upon seeing the lotus pattern on their sleeves, they abruptly stopped and turned to flee elsewhere.

A disciple of the Antarctic Sword Sect nearly collided with a monk from the Azure Dragon Temple. His sword tip veered off course, passing by the monk just three feet away—the blade wasn't even pointing in that direction.

Ling Yunzi saw this scene but said nothing.

Iron Knife King saw this scene but said nothing.

Yan Jingchen saw this, and the smile on his lips faded slightly.

Because everyone knows that although the old monk says "it all depends on one's own ability," if you dare to touch his people, he will show you what "the abilities of a Grandmaster at the seventh level" really mean.

Nobody wants to verify this for themselves.

So the melee continued, with the clash of swords and the sounds of fighting never ceasing. Some were overjoyed at their success, some cursed angrily when they failed, some were injured and fell to the ground, and some took advantage of the chaos to launch sneak attacks.

But the path taken by the disciples of Qinglong Temple is like an invisible boundary river.

No one crossed that line.

Nobody dares.