Though the elder sister Guan Yingdong was composed and steady, she was also meticulous about hierarchy and decorum—creating a subtle sense of distance.
The three of them made their way toward the guest hall.
Moments later—
"Oh? So it's the Vice Sect Master of Inkveil Gate himself. My two disciples were unaware and failed to greet you properly. Forgive their rudeness."
"Not at all, City Lord. You're too kind."
It had to be acknowledged—since the fall of the Tuoba and Bai Clans, Spiritridge under Wang Yu's rule had flourished. The city pulsed with vitality, far surpassing its former stagnation.
His policies had granted concessions to stimulate trade and prosperity, strengthening the young alliance he had forged. Some had even begun to genuinely accept his leadership.
The man before him wore a thin cyan robe and carried a pearwood box carved with plum blossoms.
This was Inkveil Gate's signature artifact—housing scrolls created through their cultivation of the Ink and Painting Dao. Each scroll contained immense power, capable of manifesting illusions and spiritual intent.
They were not just symbols of artistic mastery and mental clarity—they were also formidable weapons, akin to high-grade talismans. Each scroll was a hidden trump card.
But unlike talismans, these painting treasures had to be kept close and nourished with one's unique ink-element true essence. Only after years of refinement could they be stored or passed down as legacy tools.
The Vice Sect Master's title was Master Qingyang.
He was at the peak of Foundation Establishment. Rumor had it that with the right Core Formation treasure—or a top-grade condensation pill—he had an 80% chance of breaking through.
His reputation rivaled that of the patriarchs of Spiritridge's three great clans.
Inkveil Gate had been founded a thousand years ago by a rogue cultivator who obtained a painting inheritance from the ancient ruins. They had yet to produce a Nascent Soul cultivator.
Given Guan Yingxue's earlier report, their purpose was obvious.
Master Qingyang bowed respectfully. "I believe the City Lord already knows why I've come. The ancient ruins hold great opportunity. Might Inkveil Gate be permitted to occupy a portion of the site?"
Wang Yu said nothing, lost in thought.
This world's ancient history was divided into three eras:
10,000–50,000 years ago: The Ancient Era, relatively well-documented, with a coherent historical timeline. 50,000–100,000 years ago: The Prehistoric Era, ruled by a glorious Immortal Dynasty, possibly linked to true immortals. Records from this time were fragmented and vague. Beyond 100,000 years: The Lost Era, with no surviving texts or records.
The Ancient Ruins were remnants of that Immortal Dynasty.
The site near Spiritridge was once the imperial capital known as Eastern Polaris Capital (Dongji Jing)—its full scale immeasurable. Only a fraction had surfaced above ground.
Every day, cultivators ventured into the ruins to explore and seek fortune.
Recently, strange phenomena had emerged—triggering interest from surrounding factions. Now, everyone was making moves.
"This matter is significant. Not just local forces—Yanluo Ghost Market and Nether Spring Temple may also be drawn in. I must tread carefully."
Master Qingyang nodded.
"Understandable. However… I wonder if the City Lord might share the records left by previous rulers of Spiritridge regarding the ruins. Surely they contain valuable insights."
"Oh?"
Wang Yu chuckled. So that was the real motive.
Cooperation was secondary. What Inkveil Gate truly wanted was access to the accumulated intelligence. They likely had their own records too.
"That's simple. Trade your intelligence for ours. All past City Lords hailed from the Holy Sect. Their methods speak for themselves. Our records will be more valuable than yours."
It was true. After a brief hesitation, Master Qingyang agreed.
"City Lord is refreshingly direct. Let's exchange."
"Follow me."
Information was only as valuable as its application.
Inkveil Gate had once gained benefits from the ruins. Their founder likely left behind rare insights.
Wang Yu didn't plan to explore the ruins himself—not yet. He still had rivals in the Foundation Establishment realm. The recent anomalies would attract many cultivators, including Core Formation experts.
Even low-profile Nascent Soul elders might appear. It wasn't worth the risk—unless the chaos died down and only a few stragglers remained.
Soon—
Wang Yu retrieved twelve jade slips from the archive room—each left by a former City Lord of Spiritridge.
He had read them before.
They focused on reconstructing the layout of Eastern Polaris Capital, one of the four imperial capitals of the Immortal Dynasty—akin to a national capital, complete with a royal palace.
Though the emperor rarely visited, the city was built to imperial standards.
The exposed surface structures were mostly mundane: residential quarters, ancient streets, watchtowers, pleasure districts, stables. Yet even these held potential treasures.
It was as if everyone in the Immortal Dynasty cultivated.
Deeper underground lay the Administrative District, with offices like the Tea-Horse Bureau, Canal Transport Bureau, Ministry of Revenue, Ministry of Personnel, and the Court of Rites.
Many names were unfamiliar to modern cultivators—but Wang Yu understood them. He had studied history in his previous world.
After the fall of the Immortal Dynasty, the concept of "nation" vanished. Cultivators ruled, and cities were built around spiritual veins—a tradition inherited from the late Prehistoric Era.
The Lakeheart Domain and Crimson Kite Territory were vast. One housed over ten billion humans; the other, barely over a billion—sparsely populated.
Yet Wang Yu felt the world was… small.
Especially after learning that the Endless Icefield in the far north was impassable even to Nascent Soul cultivators. The continent felt cramped.
The stronger he became, the more this feeling grew. He couldn't explain it—was it intuition? A sudden whim?
His thoughts drifted.
"City Lord?"
Master Qingyang's voice brought him back. He was still holding the twelve jade slips. The Inkveil Gate's records had already been handed over—but he hadn't reciprocated.
"Apologies. Something crossed my mind."
"No trouble at all."
Receiving the jade slips, Master Qingyang bowed deeply.
"Would the City Lord permit me a quiet chamber? I won't take these records outside, nor will I copy them."
Such intelligence was best kept secret.
Judging by his attitude, Master Qingyang might not even report back to Inkveil Gate. Was he seeking a Core Formation opportunity for himself?
"There is a chamber. Yingdong, escort the guest to the Stone Garden."
"Yes, Master."
With the guest settled, Wang Yu reviewed Inkveil Gate's intelligence.
Their research was narrower than the City Lords'—but deeper in one area.
At the end of the Administrative District, they had discovered a place called the Sage's Court, home to a minor office named Painter's Registry.
There, they had obtained fragments of the Ink and Painting Dao. After further exploration, they reached the palace gates and found the Artisan's Institute beneath the royal city.
It housed stoneworkers, carpenters, shipwrights, lacquerers—and also Painters and Imperial Court Painters.
Inkveil Gate's founder had inherited the Painter's legacy. He speculated that the Imperial Court Painter might have held a Nascent Soul-level inheritance.
Then began a wave of suicidal expeditions.
Perhaps they had triggered the palace's defenses. Since then, all of Eastern Polaris Capital had become perilous. Even the outer residential zones were filled with deadly traps.
From mechanisms and wards to formations and monsters—
Even Core Formation cultivators had perished. The founder's final message was that he had entered the ruins.
After reviewing everything, Wang Yu had a clearer picture of how to obtain inheritance from the ruins. Inkveil Gate wasn't the only faction that had benefited.
With the recent anomalies, more cultivators would flock to the site.
If even the Artisan's Institute held Nascent Soul-level legacies—
Then if the royal palace were activated, it could trigger a domain-wide upheaval across the Crimson Kite Territory.
Not just local factions—even the demonic overlords of Heaven-Forging Demon Sect would come. Their rival: the righteous Void Sky Sword Sect.
The few remaining Soul Formation cultivators belonged to these two powers.
"Too dangerous."
The final jade slip summarized the types of monsters, traps, wards, and formations within the ruins—and included a "relatively safe" route discovered by Inkveil Gate.
Wang Yu withdrew his spiritual sense.
He had made up his mind: he would not go.
The ruins were only a few thousand li from Spiritridge—not far. But the stakes were enormous. Sometimes, the local snake couldn't beat the dragon from afar.
He had a city. He could buy anything he needed through the merchant guilds. There was no need to risk his life.
Knowing when to advance—and when to restrain greed—was also a form of wisdom.
He didn't need to grasp everything.
He hadn't even finished mastering the legacies he already possessed. More would only dilute his focus.
Wang Yu only took risks when the reward was immense and the need unavoidable. He prepared meticulously before tackling any challenge.
The Eastern Polaris ruins were a classic case of unnecessary danger.
Besides—
The ruins weren't going anywhere. No one had emptied the royal palace in all these years. This time would be no different. Once this time passed, the ruins would still be there. For countless years, no one had managed to strip the Eastern Polaris Capital clean. This time would be no different. Once the frenzy died down and the ruins returned to their usual state—when only a few scattered cats and dogs remained—he could take his time exploring.
Having reached this conclusion, Wang Yu no longer concerned himself with the matter. He returned to his cultivation and city affairs as if nothing had happened.
A few days later—
Visitors began to arrive in waves.
Some came bearing gifts, others with veiled intentions. Representatives from nearby sects, rogue cultivators, and even merchants from the Yanluo Ghost Market passed through Spiritridge, all seeking information or passage to the ruins.
Wang Yu received them with measured courtesy, neither too distant nor too warm. He knew the game: everyone wanted a piece of the pie, and no one wanted to show their full hand.
But he had already made his choice.
He would not join the scramble.
Instead, he would watch from the city walls, let the storm pass, and wait for the dust to settle.
Only then would he decide whether to act.
(End of Chapter)