They’d already agreed on how to divide the spoils: any materials with special elemental attributes went to the one whose cultivation aligned with it. That golden crystal they’d found earlier, for instance, belonged to Dante alone. Everything else—items with neutral or mixed attributes—would be split evenly among them.

  Lauren had been the unluckiest one on their journey so far, finding the fewest useful treasures for her particular spiritual roots. She’d always consoled herself by thinking that her specialization simply made suitable items rarer.

  But now, with bag after bag of ice crystals in her possession, all her past losses felt more than compensated.

  As they moved deeper, though, the glow of ice crystals faded. The walls opened into a vast hollow space, and soon there was no more solid path—only the roar of the Weak Water churning in the ravine below.

  That meant they’d reached the end of the tunnel.

  Dante ran his hand along the rough wall, frowning. “The rock here isn’t thick,” he said. “Step back a bit. I’ll break it open.”

  Lauren cautioned, “Careful. The stone layer’s soft. If it collapses, we’ll be buried alive. Worst case, we go through the river.”

  She looked down at the dark current. The Weak Water wasn’t exactly welcoming—its surface writhed with whirlpools, each one large enough to swallow a boat whole.

  “Don’t worry,” Dante said with a grin. “I’ll control my strength.”

  The others retreated several paces. Dante raised his sword, golden light flaring along the blade, and brought it down in one clean arc.

  Boom!

  The wall split open with a thunderous crack. Shards of stone tumbled into the raging water below, swallowed instantly by the noise of the current.

  Nash blinked. “Damn, that’s deep.”

  Dante examined the opening—just over a foot thick, wide enough for one person at a time. He stepped aside and gestured forward. “We can go in now.”

  They entered the new chamber cautiously. It was smaller than the last, but eerily still. The deep gorge was gone, and the Weak Water had disappeared from sight.

  Lauren immediately extended her spiritual sense, searching. A faint pulse answered from below. She relaxed.

  “The Weak Water’s still there,” she said. “Just deeper down.”

  Dante nodded. “Then we keep going. The river’s bound to lead us somewhere.”

  Lauren met his gaze, steady and resolute. “Yes. Let’s see where it takes us.”

  “Hey, come take a look at this!”

  Nash, who’d gone on ahead, was crouched by a massive stone formation. The others hurried over and saw what he was pointing at.

  It was a huge boulder, its surface hollowed out into a smooth, rounded depression—like the mark left by someone’s seated form. Two faint heel prints were pressed into the rock below it.

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  “These… these are signs of someone training here.”

  “What?”

  They all leaned in, marveling.

  “Even stone worn down like this? Whoever sat here must’ve done so for centuries.”

  Lauren ran her hand across the worn rock, her expression thoughtful. “It can take hundreds of years for a cultivator to reach the Spirit Transformation stage—or even longer to reach Mahayana. It’s not surprising to see such marks here. Though it could also mean they were recovering from a serious injury.”

  Dante straightened, scanning the area. “In other words, this could’ve been a cultivation ground for a high-level cultivator.”

  “Maybe,” Lauren said softly.

  They spread out, inspecting the surrounding walls. A moment later, Lauren called out, “Over here! There’s something carved into the stone!”

  The others hurried over. Faint, timeworn inscriptions covered the opposite wall, half-faded by age.

  “Can you make out what it says?”

  They used the Bright Light Stone they’d found earlier to illuminate the carvings. The glow revealed ancient script—so eroded it was almost illegible.

  Dante stepped closer. He held his sword before his eyes and drew the blade across them in a deliberate motion. A golden light flared in his pupils.

  “Golden Eyes?” Lauren murmured.

  Nash grinned. “Yeah. Master Gerald gifted Dante a pair of Golden Crystal Beast eyes years ago. After refining them, he gained the Golden Eyes ability. Lets him read or see things others can’t.”

  Lauren raised an eyebrow. So Gerald really did favor him… perhaps he’s grooming Dante as his successor.

  Dante stared at the wall for a long moment, the golden glow in his eyes flickering. When he finally turned around, his face had gone pale.

  “Well?” Nash asked, impatient. “What does it say?”

  Dante hesitated, his lips tightening as if unsure where to begin.

  “Come on, what’s written there?” Nash pressed.

  After a long silence, Dante finally said quietly, “This place really is what it looks like—a cultivation ground left behind by a senior.”

  “Then…?”

  “He was a Mahayana cultivator.”

  The words dropped like stones into a still pond. For a moment, no one breathed.

  Another Mahayana cultivator? Besides Drake?

  Nash’s voice trembled. “And… what happened to him?”

  Dante’s expression darkened. “He secluded himself here, intending to break through and ascend to the heavens.”

  “Did he succeed?”

  They all leaned forward unconsciously.

  In this world, ascension was little more than a myth—a distant, unreachable dream. Every cultivator secretly wondered whether all their pain and discipline only delayed death rather than defied it.

  But Dante slowly shook his head.

  “He didn’t ascend.”

  Nash frowned. “Then what happened?”

  Dante’s voice grew quieter. “He gave up.”

  “What?”

  Lauren’s gaze sharpened. “Are you sure he didn’t fail his tribulation? You’re saying… he gave up voluntarily?”

  Dante nodded. “Yes. According to the inscription, he gave up his chance to ascend—and chose to dissolve his own body.”

  “What the hell?” Nash’s eyes widened. “He was right there, on the verge of godhood. Why would he just… stop?”

  Lauren exhaled slowly. She understood enough about “self-dissolution” to feel a chill run down her spine.

  Self-dissolution meant transferring all the power of one’s physical body into the spirit—essentially abandoning the flesh, choosing reincarnation, or taking over another body to start anew.

  But that was a desperate measure, reserved for cultivators who failed their ascension tribulation and had no other path left.

  And for a Mahayana cultivator—someone who’d already reached the pinnacle of human strength—to choose that willingly?

  Impossible. Unless…

  “He’s been reincarnated?”

  Dante nodded.

  “Why?”

  Dante opened his mouth, hesitated—and nothing came out.

  Nash frowned. “Well? Spit it out already.”

  “I want to,” Dante said through gritted teeth, “but I can’t.”

  “What do you mean, you want to but can’t? That’s bullshit.”

  “I’m not kidding,” Dante snapped. “It’s true.”

  Seeing the strain in his eyes, Nash realized he wasn’t joking. “What the hell’s going on, then?”

  “Hey, don’t push him,” Lauren cut in quietly.

  She already knew.

  “It’s sealed,” she said. “He’s bound by a restriction—he literally can’t say it. Forcing him won’t work.”

  “Huh?” Nash blinked.

  Lauren turned to Dante. “When we get back to the mountain, find my master. He’ll know how to break the seal and let you speak.”

  Dante nodded, his face grim. “Don’t worry. I’ve memorized everything that was written.”