When the Alliance group left the broken courtyard, the air outside had already changed.
The Faction disciples had vanished somewhere along the way. They had separated from the Alliance long ago, and no one knew which passage they had taken.
The passage beyond was colder than before, but it was no longer quiet. Faint vibrations came from deeper within the ruins, sometimes distant, sometimes close, as if several trial spaces had awakened at the same time. Every now and then, a muffled explosion rolled through the walls, followed by the faint scream of metal, beasts, or cultivators.
The ruins were growing more crowded.
By Fang Lin's rough calculation, it should be around the sixth day since the Rivercloud Demon Sealing Ruins had opened. There were still many days before the expected ejection, but the calm beginning had already ended. Those who dared enter now were no longer random recruits chasing luck. More and more sect elites had arrived, and where elites gathered, treasures became fewer while knives became more patient.
Feng Jiu'er walked at the front, her crimson-green aura restrained around her body. The Alliance disciples followed in a steady formation. Behind them, Xu Hanjiang's River Sword Sect group kept some distance. They did not leave, but they also did not come too close.
Murong Yue glanced back once and smiled faintly. "They are following very politely."
Zhao Feng lowered his voice. "Can following someone be polite?"
"It can," Murong Yue said. "When the person following you is pretending not to."
Li Shan's expression remained calm. "Do not relax. Xu Hanjiang suffered a loss, but he is not stupid."
Fang Lin did not turn back. His torn black-grey robe had already been changed, but his face still carried a trace of paleness. Shen Mo's injury needed to recover slowly. That was only reasonable.
The passage continued for nearly half an hour before widening into a stone hall.
The moment they entered, the smell of old metal filled their noses.
It was a vast hall with a high ceiling and dozens of black stone weapon racks arranged in rows. Some racks had collapsed. Some were empty. Some still held weapons covered in dust and dark rust. Sabers, axes, spears, hooks, short swords, heavy hammers, broken shields, and strange curved blades rested in silence. Most looked ruined, but some still carried faint spiritual pressure.
At the center of the hall, several groups of cultivators were already facing each other.
One side wore dark iron-grey battle robes embroidered with spear lines. Their collars carried bronze spear emblems. The leader was a tall young man holding a heavy iron spear. His shoulders were broad, his gaze direct, and the aura around him carried a dark grey pressure mixed with iron-red battle Qi. When he shifted his spear slightly, the smaller sect disciples nearby instinctively stepped back.
They were disciples from Iron Spear Valley, and the young man leading them was Duan Qingshan.
Opposite him stood a group in white-blue robes with pale crane-feather patterns. Their movements were lighter, and their robes stirred even when there was no wind. At their front was a young woman with a gentle smile and clear eyes. Her aura was pale blue-white, soft on the surface, but the way the dust avoided her sleeves showed that her control over wind Qi was not simple.
She was He Lanyue of Cloud Crane Manor.
Between the two groups were several smaller sect disciples. Two of them were injured, and one corpse lay near a weapon rack with its chest split open. Beside the corpse was a bright saber that had already turned dull, as if all its spirit had vanished after killing the person who touched it.
Ancient words were carved on the wall behind the racks.
Those who take a weapon shall receive its last resentment. Those who endure may keep it. Those who fail shall remain with it.
Zhao Feng read the words and frowned. "This one is too direct."
Murong Yue looked at the corpse near the rack. "Very direct."
No one laughed at that.
Duan Qingshan looked toward the newcomers. His gaze passed over Feng Jiu'er first, then paused briefly on Fang Lin. Others glanced at Fang Lin as well, but most of them dismissed him after a single look. To them, he was only an unknown wandering cultivator. When Duan Qingshan saw the Green Bamboo Sect emblems, his expression did not soften much, but he did not immediately provoke them either.
Feng Jiu'er's Peak Spirit Foundation aura was restrained, but it was still there. Even among elites, very few people were foolish enough to ignore a Peak Spirit Foundation cultivator leading a full group.
He Lanyue smiled first. "Senior Sister Feng, Cloud Crane Manor greets you. I did not expect the Green Bamboo Sect Alliance to reach this hall too."
Feng Jiu'er nodded lightly. "We came by another route."
Duan Qingshan glanced at Xu Hanjiang's group arriving behind them. "River Sword Sect too?"
Xu Hanjiang smiled. "We were merely walking in the same direction."
No one believed him.
He Lanyue's smile did not change. "Then this hall has become more lively."
A smaller sect disciple standing near the left racks clenched his storage pouch tightly. His robe was torn, and blood dripped from his sleeve. Several people looked at him from time to time. He had likely endured the resentment of some weapon and obtained something, though he had already hidden it away.
That one small movement made the air heavier.
Treasure was like blood in water. It did not need to shout for predators to gather.
Duan Qingshan rested his spear on the ground. "The rule is simple. The weapons here have no owner. Whoever can endure the resentment may take one. But no one is allowed to snatch from my Iron Spear Valley disciples while we are testing weapons."
He Lanyue smiled softly. "That sounds fair, if Iron Spear Valley also does not snatch from others."
Duan Qingshan looked at her. "If your Cloud Crane Manor people can keep what they take, I will not interfere."
His words were blunt, but not reckless. He did not say the same for the smaller sect disciples.
The injured smaller sect disciple's face turned paler.
Xu Hanjiang suddenly spoke from behind. "Fellow Daoist Shen should have good judgment in this kind of place."
The hall quieted slightly.
Fang Lin cast him a brief glance.
Xu Hanjiang smiled calmly. "After all, Fellow Daoist Shen already obtained a spear from the previous arena. A weapon that remained after a Late Spirit Foundation puppet shattered cannot be ordinary."
Duan Qingshan's eyes moved.
It was only a small change, but several Iron Spear Valley disciples looked toward Fang Lin at once. A spear cultivator's interest in a good spear was natural. Whether that interest stopped at admiration depended on the person.
Feng Jiu'er's expression turned cold. "Xu Hanjiang, if you have something to say, say it properly."
Xu Hanjiang raised his hands slightly. "Junior Sister Feng misunderstands. I am merely praising Fellow Daoist Shen's luck."
Murong Yue's lips curved. "Your praise sounds expensive."
Fang Lin looked away from Xu Hanjiang and stepped toward one of the empty racks as if he had not heard anything important. But he still remembered what Xu Hanjiang had tried to do. Debts did not disappear just because the hall was crowded.
Duan Qingshan watched him for a moment before speaking. "Fellow Daoist Shen, if that spear truly came from a trial puppet, Iron Spear Valley can offer a fair exchange. A spear in the hands of someone who does not cultivate spear arts is somewhat wasted."
Luo Chen's eyes narrowed. He was also a spear user, and those words were not pleasant.
Fang Lin had already decided to give the spear to Luo Chen when the time was right.
Fang Lin stopped beside the rack and looked at Duan Qingshan. "Should every spear in the ruins go to Iron Spear Valley?"
A few Cloud Crane Manor disciples lowered their heads and laughed softly.
He Lanyue's smile deepened slightly.
Duan Qingshan's gaze sharpened. "That is not what I meant."
"Good," Fang Lin said. "For a moment, I thought the ruins had changed owners."
His words were calm and simple. They did not sound arrogant, but the meaning beneath them made the hall fall quiet for a breath.
Duan Qingshan studied him in silence.
Feng Jiu'er did not speak. Her gaze remained on Xu Hanjiang. The pressure around her was very light, yet Xu Hanjiang's smile faded a little.
An Iron Spear Valley disciple behind Duan Qingshan moved two steps to the side. His eyes swept over the Green Bamboo Alliance's rear, where Bai Qing and Zhao Feng stood near the edge of the formation. The movement was small. In a hall full of treasure, it could have been nothing.
Black Mountain Lock descended without warning.
The Iron Spear Valley disciple's spear sank with a thud, its tip striking the stone floor. His wrist trembled, and his shoulder lowered half an inch before he forced himself steady. Shock flashed through his eyes.
Fang Lin had not turned around fully.
He only looked at the weapon rack in front of him and said, "Wrong side."
The Iron Spear Valley disciple's face flushed, but he did not dare move again. Duan Qingshan raised one hand, stopping him before the matter worsened.
He Lanyue glanced at Fang Lin with a strange light in her eyes. The smile on her face remained gentle, but she no longer looked at him like an ordinary wandering cultivator.
Zhao Feng blinked. "Was he going to attack us?"
Murong Yue said softly, "Maybe he was only admiring your posture."
Zhao Feng immediately straightened his back.
Bai Qing almost smiled, then quickly held it back.
The hall did not become relaxed, but several eyes shifted away from Zhao Feng as if nothing had happened.
At that moment, a smaller sect disciple near the right side suddenly reached toward a black axe resting on a cracked rack. His eyes were red with greed and fear. Perhaps he felt that if he waited any longer, the stronger groups would take everything.
His hand closed around the axe handle.
The axe did not move.
Then a black shadow burst from the blade and entered his arm.
The disciple screamed. His arm swelled, veins turning dark beneath the skin. He tried to let go, but his fingers seemed glued to the handle. The other disciples beside him backed away in panic.
Duan Qingshan's eyes hardened, but he did not help.
He Lanyue watched quietly.
Feng Jiu'er's expression remained cold. The man had made his choice.
The smaller sect disciple roared and circulated his Qi with all his strength. For several breaths, it seemed as if he might endure. Then the axe cracked down the middle. The black shadow dispersed, and the disciple was thrown backward. His arm was badly injured, but he was alive.
The axe crumbled into rust before it hit the ground.
It had been trash.
The hall grew even quieter.
Not every weapon that remained on the racks was a treasure. Some were merely bait left behind by time. Some were broken things with enough resentment to kill the greedy but not enough value to reward the brave.
Duan Qingshan looked at his disciples. "Do not touch randomly."
One of them nodded quickly.
Xu Hanjiang's gaze moved between the racks and Fang Lin. He said nothing more, but his hand rested near his sword hilt.
Fang Lin slowly walked along the racks.
He passed a saber that still carried faint killing intent. He passed a short spear with half its shaft wrapped in old leather. He passed a shield that looked intact but gave off no spiritual pressure at all. Several people watched him. Some were curious. Some were waiting to see whether he would misjudge. A few simply wanted to know what kind of weapon a man like Shen Mo would choose.
Fang Lin did not take any of them.
He stopped before the back wall of the hall.
There was no weapon rack there, only a long scar across the stone. It looked like an old mark left by a blade. Dust had gathered inside the cut, and several smaller cracks spread out from it.
Murong Yue tilted her head. "Fellow Daoist Shen, the weapons are behind you."
Fang Lin raised his hand and brushed two fingers across the scar.
Nothing happened.
Duan Qingshan frowned. "That is a wall."
Fang Lin looked at the scar for another breath.
Then his foot landed lightly on the stone floor.
Stone Vein Crushing Step sent a dull vibration beneath the hall.
The weapon racks trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling. The long scar on the wall suddenly lit up, not with bright light, but with a deep black-red glow like iron heated inside a furnace.
Everyone's expression changed.
The wall split open.
A narrow passage appeared behind it, and from within came a wave of ancient weapon pressure so sharp that several disciples felt their skin sting.
Duan Qingshan gripped his spear.
He Lanyue's smile finally faded.
Xu Hanjiang stared at the opening, and for a moment, he forgot to hide the greed in his eyes.
Fang Lin stepped back from the wall and looked into the darkness beyond.
Inside the passage, something metallic dragged slowly across stone.
Then a low sound echoed from within, like a weapon being pulled free after countless years of sleep.