Chapter Thirty: Someone Hasn't Come Out Yet

A Major Chapter.

Fang Jian was in a foul mood, deeply frustrated to the point of despair.

A thousand years for this one chance!

No one could have guessed just how exhilarated, how electrified he’d felt the moment he set foot inside the underground palace. This was, after all, the legendary domain of the Celestial Venerable! He’d been so excited that his scalp tingled, feeling as though a great leap in cultivation was right at hand, that the path to sainthood was within his grasp.

But once inside, none of the opportunities he’d imagined materialized—not even a single Foundation Pill, something he’d long since ceased to care about, appeared! The disappointment, the rage, the gnawing sense of betrayal—it was enough to split him apart.

He found himself teleported before a dilapidated thatched hut, with nothing at the doorway but a pile of rotting wood! He recognized the timber as a rare divine tree, found only in the perilous regions of the Kunlun Secret Realm, where monsters and fierce beasts prowled. It was not easily procured.

But he had no use for it! For an adept in the forging arts, this sacred wood would be a treasure beyond price. But he, who knew nothing of artifact crafting, found it nearly worthless.

Refusing to give up, he searched the hut thoroughly, yet in the end, found nothing—nothing at all. With no other choice, he stored the heap of rotten wood in his storage ring, only to be instantly teleported out.

The moment he reemerged, Fang Jian’s mental state was on the verge of collapse. Bitterness and fury seethed within him; he believed the heavens—or rather, the Celestial Venerable himself—were making sport of him, a junior.

Before entering the underground palace, he’d been intent on seizing every opportunity. Those arrogant brats from the outside world and opportunists—he’d never spared them a second thought. Burning alive and driving off the Western faction had been an act of ingrained hatred, but that didn’t mean he had any fondness for the Easterners, either.

He was a child of the Secret Realm—utterly severed from the mortal world outside. So, in his mind, once he entered the palace, it would become his domain. Any outsider he encountered would face two choices: hand over all their gains and leave, or die.

What he hadn’t expected was that the damned underground palace would never even allow its visitors to cross paths. And even less that all he would gain was a pile of rotten wood! Utter travesty!

Just as his frustration was about to explode, he was immediately beset by attacks from the Western faction upon emerging.

Fang Jian wished desperately to devour them all alive. Without hesitation, he unleashed his full cultivation, divine abilities blazing, and plunged into battle.

Qian Qianxue retreated to a safe distance. She finally breathed a sigh of relief—thank heavens, someone had come out at the critical moment. Otherwise, getting past the Western faction today would have been nearly impossible for her.

Most of the Western faction’s younger cultivators were at the seventh or eighth level of Qi Nourishment, just stepping into advanced practice, but before a Foundation Establishment master like Fang Jian, they were nothing. Yet the older, more seasoned ones—led by the Big Blond—were formidable in their own right.

They shielded the front, breaking through Fang Jian’s techniques, while the younger ones seized every opening to launch vicious attacks. This was a battle of life and death; soon, some of the Western youths perished, burned alive by Fang Jian’s flames.

Qian Qianxue withdrew even further—if not for fear of the students of the Academy or Song Yue emerging at any moment, she would have left altogether. It was simply too dangerous! The techniques unleashed by Foundation-level masters were devastating; a single ball of fire could explode violently, reducing towering trees to dust and sending earth and stone flying in all directions.

Gradually, the Western faction’s young dared not approach again. Battles at the Foundation Establishment level were not for Qi Nourishment cultivators. Only five or six of the older Westerners remained, locked in combat with Fang Jian.

Fang Jian began to falter. The enemy had their own Foundation Establishment masters—slightly weaker than he, but their numbers made up the difference.

Just then, a sudden bolt of energy shot from afar, slamming into Fang Jian’s protective shield, causing a violent tremor. Next, over a dozen more of the same attacks rained down on him.

Hiding at a distance, Qian Qianxue saw it all clearly: the aliens had intervened! A group supporting the Western faction, wielding energy weapons, were now attacking Fang Jian.

Qian Qianxue grew anxious. While she had little liking for the cold, ruthless people of the Secret Realm, in this situation, if Fang Jian fell, she too would be at the mercy of these monsters.

In a fury, Fang Jian summoned divine fire, hurling it at the distant aliens. They all raised energy shields to block the flames—products of high technology.

But the brief distraction cost Fang Jian dearly: several Western masters struck him, blood pouring from his wounds. He realized he couldn’t stay—any longer and he might die.

Just as he decided to retreat, the aliens’ attacks intensified—they had brought out heavy weapons! A beam of energy as thick as a bowl shot toward him. Not even a Foundation master like Fang Jian dared take such a hit head-on. He tried to dodge, but the Western faction’s cultivators strove with all their might to pin him in place.

At the critical moment, Fang Jian felt his body suddenly go light—a force yanked him away a dozen meters. The deadly energy beam missed, striking a mountainside in the distance and erupting in a colossal explosion, flames billowing skyward! Hundreds of tons of boulders shattered, and a rain of debris fell from the sky.

Fang Jian’s heart pounded; someone had just saved him. But now all he wanted was to get away—to settle accounts with these people another day.

At that moment, more people began to emerge from the Secret Realm, as if dumplings were being dropped into soup—everyone who had entered was now being spat back out: Wang Xu, Wang Jing, Miao Qiang, and other Secret Realm natives, as well as students from the Academy.

They were all shocked on emerging, but Wang Xu and Wang Jing reacted instantly, joining the fight without a word. The pressure that had been solely on Fang Jian vanished in a flash.

Fang Jian sent Wang Xu a mental message: “The aliens have made their move. Nine times out of ten, it was this lot who killed our missing people. I’ve seen those Academy kids—they’re not capable of it!”

Wang Xu had already stopped suspecting the Academy students, but on hearing Fang Jian’s message, his eyes turned red. The missing youths had been gone too long; he’d suspected the worst but still clung to hope. Now, with Fang Jian’s confirmation, he couldn’t hold back any longer and launched a furious assault on the Western masters.

Other Secret Realm people, without a word, charged the aliens. To use high-tech energy cannons in the Kunlun Secret Realm—suicidal arrogance!

Miao Qiang joined the fray. Though a genial soul, he was hardly without temper. Attacked the moment he emerged, he erupted in a storm of blood energy, his domain flaring, leaping hundreds of meters to cleave an alien wielding an energy cannon clean in two with a single blow.

Even the cannon on the alien’s shoulder was shattered by the blast.

Meanwhile, the Academy students and Xiao Meng quickly found Qian Qianxue, gathering together in horror at the unfolding battle.

“What’s going on?” Meng Xudong asked.

Qian Qianxue explained briefly. Meng Xudong patted his chest, muttering, “Terrifying! Truly, those not of our kind harbor other intentions. The Westerners—what a scheme! Thank goodness the Secret Realm people came out.”

Everyone was curious about what had been found in the underground palace, but this was not the time to ask, nor the place—they worried about being overheard. So they watched the battle in tense silence.

Xiao Qi emerged too, looking a bit crestfallen. But that sly fox, even if he’d gained something good, would likely wear the same expression.

He sidled over to the Academy group, joining Miao Qiang’s disciples in observing the great battle.

One had to admit: those who spent their lives cultivating within the Secret Realm were, in both realm and combat power, a cut above the rest—soon, they gained the upper hand. If not for the arrival of several alien reinforcements, the Westerners and their extraterrestrial allies would already have been routed.

The commotion was colossal; even from miles away, it could be seen clearly. People began to converge on the area in droves.

An alien already present shouted, “Those people just came out of the Secret Realm! Defeat them and you can claim the treasures they brought from the underground palace!”

It was as if someone had thrown a torch into a powder keg. Eyes went green with greed.

An underground palace? Had one really opened here? A once-in-a-millennium opportunity! Too late—it had already been plundered. The treasures must be on those who had emerged!

Now, not just the Westerners and aliens, but even some among the newly arrived Easterners began to entertain bold thoughts.

The Secret Realm people had never been on good terms with them. When they first arrived, several young Secret Realm cultivators had killed outsiders without hesitation—what friendship could remain?

As the crowd swelled, a powerful wave of greed seemed to blanket the sky.

Qian Qianxue, who hated mingling with others, whispered, “Let’s get out of here!”

Meng Xudong agreed without hesitation. This was no place to linger.

Everyone newly arrived believed the returnees bore great treasures from the underground palace. In such circumstances, even Fang Jian, brimming with anger and grievance, couldn’t be bothered to explain—no one would believe him anyway.

Taking advantage of the chaos, with magical techniques flying everywhere, Qian Qianxue, Meng Xudong, Xiao Qi, and the other young returnees quickly slipped away—not toward the altar, but deeper into the Secret Realm.

Some noticed them leaving, but paid little heed—a bunch of inexperienced, underpowered youths. They wouldn’t escape! Unless they wanted to become Secret Realm people, sooner or later, they’d have to return to the altar. Whatever they’d obtained would have to be surrendered. For now, let them hold onto it a few days.

The focus remained on the Secret Realm cultivators—they had to be vanquished, and all the treasures on them seized.

The Secret Realm people themselves were seething with anger. They hadn’t yet compared notes on their underground palace gains. In truth, almost no one had gotten what they’d hoped for. Some gains, yes, but all dispensable.

Fang Jian had a pile of rotten wood. Wang Jing had two Foundation-level great herbs—good things, but of little use to someone already at Foundation Establishment. Wang Xu had fared even worse: a massive lump of raw copper. Rare in the Secret Realm, perhaps, but his family owned plenty—a bitter disappointment.

The young-looking cultivator once blasted half to death by Miao Qiang had gotten two fist-sized lumps of refined metal—priceless for forging, but he had half a cubic meter in his warehouse already.

What Celestial Venerable’s domain? This was nothing but a playground for the perverse amusement of some ancient master!

Not everyone was so unlucky, however. Miao Qiang, the grandmaster of martial arts, had obtained a great herb that would advance his cultivation by leaps and bounds. Some Academy students had received Foundation Pills; even those who hadn’t had gained significant rewards—advanced cultivation manuals, readable with spiritual power even if the script was unknown, all peerless techniques not found in the mortal world. A few had gotten decent magical artifacts—not of the highest grade, but for them, an immense windfall.

The crowd continued to swell. More Secret Realm reinforcements arrived. Both sides were taking casualties—even Foundation masters were being grievously wounded.

A great battle seemed inevitable.

Finally, high-ranking figures arrived: leaders from both Eastern and Western factions and among the aliens, all here to negotiate with the Secret Realm people.

They quickly called for a halt.

A Foundation master from the official Huaxia delegation, evidently of high status, tried to calm everyone: “The palace gate isn’t even closed—why fight now? If you want something, trade for it. Don’t start a war. If blood runs in the streets, no one benefits!”

“Have you all forgotten the bloody battle sixty years ago?”

Only then did the crowd snap out of it, turning to look at the stone gate still surrounded by multicolored clouds below.

Yes—the underground palace gate was still open! So why fight?

But then again, something felt wrong. The opening of such a palace, even a small one, usually led to days, weeks, even years of slow exploration. Nothing inside was ever ordinary; even a candlestick might be a mighty artifact. Even in a pristine immortal’s abode, exploration would never be finished so quickly.

Why had these people… gone in and come right out? Even if the palace was empty, people would still search every nook and cranny. No one would leave until every last treasure had been found.

Someone finally voiced the most improbable, yet logical, answer: “Could it be… you found nothing at all in there?”

Disbelief. “A vast palace, said to be the Celestial Venerable’s own abode—how could it be empty? Even a single seal or inkstone would be a top-tier artifact!”

But the Secret Realm cultivators, brimming with resentment, finally erupted.

“Like hell we did!” Fang Jian’s eyes were bloodshot. He was gravely wounded, his spiritual power nearly spent after fighting for his life against the Westerners and aliens. Drenched in blood, he was a ticking powder keg, ready to explode at any moment.

He glared venomously at the Westerners and aliens, then turned to the skeptical Huaxia cultivator and, without a word, dumped the pile of rotten wood from his storage ring.

A collective gasp.

Someone recognized it and exclaimed, “Isn’t that the legendary divine wood, a close relative of the World Tree, known as the Lesser World Tree?”

Fang Jian snorted, unwilling to say more.

The man, an artifact forger, was undeterred and asked eagerly, “Would you sell me a piece?”

Fang Jian glanced at him. “If you can pay the right price, I’ll sell. But money from the outside world is useless to me.”

Disappointed, the man sighed—he had money, but little that a Foundation master like Fang Jian would value. Still, he began brainstorming with those nearby, hoping to pool enough cultivation resources to tempt him.

The others were less impressed. The Lesser World Tree was valuable, but not so rare as to be unobtainable. Some ancient palaces were built entirely of the stuff! Could this really be all that was gained from the Celestial Venerable’s palace? Even the water jars inside could be supreme artifacts!

Wang Jing silently produced two Foundation-level great herbs. The crowd paused—good things, but… was that it?

Wang Xu tossed out a heavy chunk of raw copper, which struck the ground with a dull thud, making a small crater. Many stared blankly, exasperated.

A youthful-looking cultivator threw down a chunk of refined metal with a face full of grievance.

Now, everyone realized something was wrong. Was this truly the underground palace? The fabled abode of the Celestial Venerable? Even the meanest disciple’s cave wouldn’t be this bare!

At this point, a Secret Realm person spoke softly: “I got a Foundation Pill inside, with an ancient inscription on it: ‘One Foundation Pill, to the fated one.’”

A Foundation Pill! To any cultivator, that was no ordinary thing—it was a treasure. How many spent their lives stuck at Qi Nourishment, unable to establish a foundation? A single pill could change one’s destiny! Sealed in jade, its efficacy preserved through countless ages—such a pill was the dream of countless cultivators.

But was it ordinary for an underground palace to dispense Foundation Pills? Otherwise, how had those who entered such palaces in the past managed to break through so quickly after emerging?

Those present were dumbfounded—especially the Westerners and aliens who had just fought a bitter battle with the Secret Realm people. They’d attacked with absolute certainty of gain, just as in the bloody war sixty years ago. Yet their foes’ haul was… not worthless, but hardly impressive. Could this be?

If they’d known, would they have fought so hard? The Secret Realm people didn’t seem to be lying—their rage and indignation were plain to see, even to those over a century old and wise in the ways of men.

Some powerful Huaxia cultivators, who had considered attacking but hesitated, secretly breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close—nearly got played to death!”

This palace… was cursed!

“So those youngsters who slipped away probably didn’t get much either?” someone asked, still hoping for an exciting tale.

At that moment, the Big Blond from the Westerners frowned. “There was a girl who said she got a Foundation Pill—I thought it was a joke, but maybe she was telling the truth!”

“She’s called Qian Qianxue!” the blonde girl added venomously, eager to stir trouble. After all, a Foundation Pill was a top-tier treasure, and she hoped someone would rob that long-legged, icy beauty to vent her own spite.

Sure enough, some eyes began to flicker with interest.

But then a Huaxia master reminded everyone evenly, “That’s the Qian family’s girl. Best not get any ideas.”

The Qian family! The weight those words carried was immense. Even the Secret Realm people fell silent. That was one of the pillar clans of the cultivation world—crossing them meant courting disaster.

Fang Jian also recalled the moment of crisis when he’d been saved by someone’s spell. At the time, only that girl had been present, and the Qian family was known for their wind techniques.

He said coldly, “Have some shame—robbing a girl of her fortune will get you struck by lightning! Even if she weren’t a Qian, you’d best not try. If I find out, I won’t let you off.”

The Qian name alone was deterrent enough. Foundation Pills were precious, but they wouldn’t save you if you crossed such a titan. True destruction would follow.

The official Huaxia master turned to Wang Xu, asking calmly, “So this palace was a dead end—nothing to be gained inside?”

Blood-soaked Wang Xu let out a deeply embittered laugh. “How could there be nothing? Our haul was truly… abundant!”

The official could only smile wryly.

Wang Jing, unwilling to antagonize the authorities, explained, “We were each teleported to separate places. In mine, aside from the two herbs I just showed, there was nothing at all—no books, no artifacts. As soon as I picked them, I was teleported out. I think the others had similar experiences.”

Enlightenment dawned. Of course—if not forcibly ejected, who would ever leave an underground palace so easily? If there was nothing, you’d dig three feet down to be sure!

With that, the truth was clear to all.

“In that case, this palace wasn’t the Celestial Venerable’s residence—it must have been a training ground,” the official Huaxia master said gently. “Perhaps in that era, entrants had to undergo trials to earn rewards, and the intended participants were probably children.”

That explained everything. All agreed this must be the answer.

Then someone asked, “Has everyone come out?”

All eyes turned to the Westerners, who had been present since the beginning.

“Everyone…” the blonde girl started, but then recalled a face she hated—the one who’d encouraged Qian Qianxue to rip her clothes. He hadn’t been seen since!

Red-hair confirmed, “There’s one person—a martial artist—still inside. I’ve been watching; he never came out!”

Everyone’s eyes gleamed. Even in the simplest ancient training ground, the “final prize” was unlikely to be mundane. Anything valued in those times would be even more precious now.

Miao Qiang grew anxious. “A martial artist—in a cultivators’ palace, how much could he gain? Isn’t this overblown? Maybe the brat is just digging around, not as quick as we were to pick up whatever was his!”

The crowd considered this—what fortune could a martial artist have in a place obviously made for cultivators?

A young-looking Foundation master, drenched in blood and radiating malice, spoke: “Who knows? When those kids arrived, the palace gate appeared. When they left, it sank again. Now only he remains—and the gate stays open.”

He looked around. “So who’s to say this palace wasn’t opened solely for him?”

A truly poisonous remark—malicious to the core. Even the gentle Miao Qiang was furious, wanting to kill him.

If Song Yue emerged and couldn’t explain himself, he’d be beset on all sides, forced to surrender whatever he had. Miao Qiang was anxious, for he too suspected this barren palace had, in fact, been opened just for him.

“Heh, let’s just wait here—when he comes out, the truth will be revealed,” someone in the crowd suggested.

The official Huaxia master frowned: “The gate is still open—wait if you wish, but I’ll go in and see for myself.”

Without waiting for a reply, he stepped to the entrance and entered, vanishing from sight.

The Westerners felt uneasy. Judging by what the others had gained, there was little danger—but the insult was profound: they couldn’t get in!

Next, several Huaxia cultivators entered, one after another.

Among the aliens, some could enter, some were barred. Those who could were all black-haired, yellow-skinned, with Huaxia ancestry. The Westerners were all blocked.

Many were speechless. Even a palace this barren, it still discriminated? Unbelievable!