She glanced at Dante. “Let’s give them to my master. He can put them up for auction in his name. We’ll split the spirit stones from the sale. That way, we don’t offend anyone in the sect, and no one tries to rob us blind.”

  Dante nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”

  Westin agreed. “Right. If anyone can keep the peace over something like this, it’s Elder Drake.”

  Nash grinned. “And we’ll still get rich. Sounds like a win-win.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Dante said.

  The decision made, they packed the Blood Qi Pills into a sealed jade box.

  They unearthed more strange elixirs, each sealed in delicate jade containers. At the very back sat a pill unlike any other, housed in an ornate box that radiated importance. The moment they laid eyes on it, they all knew—this was the treasure among treasures.

  Even Dante furrowed his brow, baffled. “What the hell is this? Ms. Lauren, do you recognize it?”

  Lauren’s gaze lingered on the snow-white pill. For a long moment, she was silent, stunned. Then she finally spoke. “To think such a pill still existed…”

  Dante leaned forward, patient. “So you do recognize it?”

  Lauren gave a small nod. “This is the Dust-Killing Pill—crafted for cultivators preparing to ascend. With it, those breaking through to the higher realms would be more easily accepted.”

  The others drew sharp breaths, the weight of her words hitting them like thunder.

  “I suspect,” Lauren added softly, “that our senior prepared it for her own ascension. But once she realized she could never cross that threshold… she set it aside here.”

  “That makes sense,” someone murmured.

  Dante crossed his arms. “Then we’ll send it to the Immortal Venerable. He’s the only one in the cultivation world with a real chance of ascending. Think of it as his reward for helping us sell the Blood Qi Pill.”

  Lauren inclined her head. “Agreed.”

  Still, there was a problem. Drake hadn’t shown any willingness to help them sell those pills, despite their plans.

  Beyond the medicines, they uncovered more jade boxes filled with rare flowers and herbs, unrefined but potent. Those were divided among the group.

  They also found stacks of jade slips—an archive of sorts, like a wandering cultivator’s personal library. Most recorded old harvesting grounds for spiritual herbs, long since picked clean. Others detailed the properties of demon beasts—their blood, bones, and hides. Useful, perhaps, though much of it overlapped with what the Thunder Sect already had.

  There were also manuals. Techniques of Yellow, Earth, and Mysterious rank, but no Heaven-level arts. Clearly, this was only a fragment of the Mahayana cultivator’s collection.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Lauren, who already cultivated a complete Heaven-rank technique, dismissed them without interest. Westin selected an Earth-level wood-type art, Nash took a formation diagram, and Dante—like Lauren—claimed nothing. His master Gerald, a peak Gold-type cultivator, had surely armed him with techniques far beyond these scraps.

  The jade slips were bundled for safekeeping, to be sent later to the Thunder Sect’s library.

  Weapons came next. Refining a proper Spirit Treasure was costly, and though they could detonate them as makeshift explosives, such an act was wasteful in the extreme. Even elite disciples weren’t reckless enough to burn Spirit Treasures for fun.

  Take their group: Lauren already wielded an Innate Spirit Treasure, among the finest weapons in existence. Dante’s natal weapon was also a Spirit Treasure. Nash and Westin carried Spirit Weapons—still respectable, though a step lower.

  Divine Weapons, of course, were rarer still. Lauren had once studied a catalog of them—only four existed in the entire cultivation world. One, the Brahma Seal, had vanished with the demonic monk Light. Lauren had even seen it: shrunk to the size of a thumb, dangling from the beads in his hand.

  Drake’s Thor’s Sword was another. The fan carried by Immortal Herbert, and the gossip plate wielded by the leader of the Calculation Sect, rounded out the list. The plate, though, was more tool than weapon, used for peering into the future. Few dared to tempt fate that way, so it remained more ornament than armament.

  From the vault, they managed to retrieve three Spirit Treasures. The two without one were ecstatic, though luck didn’t quite favor them.

  One was a pill furnace—valuable, but more to alchemists. Dante and Westin both dabbled in alchemy, and Lauren had hoped to learn it someday. To them, Lauren was better known as a talisman master.

  Another was a fire-imbued fan, clearly the senior’s own tool for refining pills. No wonder she could churn out top-grade elixirs like this.

  In the end, they settled the matter of distribution the simplest way possible—rock, paper, scissors. One walked away with the fan, the other with the pill furnace.

  The last Spirit Treasure was a set of body armor, clearly crafted for a woman. There was no debate; Lauren claimed it without objection.

  That left Nash without a Spirit Treasure. To make it fair, the others let him gather a few more Spirit Weapons instead. The division was quick, clean, and—most surprisingly—peaceful.

  Lauren couldn’t help but find it strange. In the novels she’d read, fights over loot were always bloody and dramatic. Yet here, there was no hint of conflict.

  On second thought, it made sense.

  The great sects, especially the Thunder Sect, placed immense weight on character when choosing disciples. And among those disciples, the four of them stood at the very top. To them, even Spirit Treasures weren’t worth breaking bonds over. Only lesser disciples—or those desperate enough to gamble their future—would claw at each other over such spoils.

  Once the treasures of the three-bedroom, one-living room cave were fully divided, the group stepped outside. They scattered insect-repelling powder, bowed toward the large chest in gratitude, and moved on.

  Lauren took the lead, searching in the direction of the Weak Water.

  The cavern grew unpredictable—sometimes soaring ten feet high, sometimes forcing them to crouch, and at times sealed entirely, until Dante cut a path with his sword. Travel was slow, and after three days they had barely advanced. Fortunately, they found the Weak Water once more.

  Dante volunteered to scout ahead. Moments later, he scrambled back, water spraying behind him as pale fish leapt from the river, snapping viciously at his heels. One nearly tore into his leg.

  “What the hell was that?” Westin shouted. “Its head was enormous—and those teeth!”

  Dante shook his head. “No eyes. That’s why its senses are so sharp. Definitely carnivorous.”

  Lauren frowned. “So we just stay out of the water.”

  “Right. The current’s a lot stronger than before,” Dante added, glancing at the rushing river. “This channel runs at least ten feet deep. We’re still on track. If we keep pushing forward, the river conditions should match the records in the Thunder Sect’s library.”

  The conditions grew harsher as predicted.