When the red dragon roared and dash forward, the clan master didn’t even get close before he flinched and turned to flee. This left Fang Xing feeling much more relaxed; although the battle prowess of this mid-stage Golden Core clan master wasn’t bad at all, there wasn’t a single chance against the red dragon.

Fang Xing wasn’t interested in joining these kinds of fights. Bullying some early-stage Golden Cores certainly wasn’t a problem, but it would be too dangerous to go up against mid-stage Golden Cores or those grandmasters who had full mastery. Even if he used the unnamed technique to hide himself and his traces, the aftershocks of their spells were still dangerous and he might end up wounded or even dead. It was also for this reason that he used the presence-concealment technique while quietly slipping through the violent and restless peril beasts, heading directly towards the Hentian clan’s secret pavilion like a ghost.

The secret pavilion of the Hentian clan was located in between two mountain peaks in the southwestern corner of the gathering spot. The area within three miles was normally restricted from others and had layers upon layers of complicated restrictive formations with soldiers to guard all year long and remove any chance someone might get close. Even more importantly, two of the clan’s elders at full Golden Core mastery were here as well, making it so they could also be considered guards.

In such circumstances, it was nearly impossible for anyone to sneak inside the secret pavilion, even people with abilities like Fang Xing and the Vermillion Bird. It was also precisely because of this that the two of them had coincidentally devised the same lowly action—using Hentian Qing—as the starting point to reach their goal.

Right now, however, the secret pavilion was no longer as protected or secure. The two old cultivators who’d normally be in seclusion had all gone with the Head Exalt to temper the dragon’s soul, and both had been heavily wounded with their life uncertain. As for the clan’s soldiers who would normally guard the secret pavilion, they had left long ago.

There were still quite a few powerful restrictive spells and formations on the path leading to the secret pavilion, but the beast tide Fang Xing lured to the Hentian clan had crashed into several spots with formation pivots, causing the formation over the Hentian clan itself to be completely destroyed. With the underlying formation no longer working, it was as though these other formations didn’t exist, and using the Book of Revelation to deal with the restrictive spells was as simple as finding head lice on a bald man.

Simply put, for someone like Fang Xing, the Hentian clan’s secret pavilion was nothing more than an unsecured treasure vault.

Fang Xing stood on the path leading to the secret pavilion. “Haha, every time I enter someone else’s treasure vault, I feel like I’m returning home….” He drew in a deep breath of satisfaction before folding his hands behind his back and strolling inside.

It was said the Hentian clan’s secret pavilion was built during the time the Hentian grand ancestor was in power an untold thousands of years ago. The Hentian grand ancestor was a legendary character inside the Guixu Ruins, and even some fellow clansmen didn’t know what kind of identity he had outside the ruins.

Some said he was an old veteran who moved unhindered throughout the realm thousands of years ago, but it seemed as though the whole world held a grudge against him and he was betrayed by those closest to him. When it looked as though all future prospects were gone, he finally hid himself inside the Guixu Ruins and named himself Hentian—”to despise the heavens”. Some also speculated the Hentian’s great ancestor might be the disciple of Videha’s Li Hentian, who hadn’t had any better option other than to enter the Guixu Ruins after failing the competition to become the next sect master.

Whatever the story, the Hentian great ancestor was undoubtedly one of the most powerful people within the Guixu Ruins. It was said his cultivation level had already reached the Calamity Stage, and for those cultivators within the ruins today who couldn’t even reach Budding Soul Stage, Great Ancestor Hentian was a legend. The value of the items he left behind before passing could easily be imagined.

The environments within the Guixu Ruins were very different, and aside from those ancestor-level people, it was impossible for anyone to break through into the Budding Soul Stage. As for those above the Budding Soul Stage, how many would actually end up forced to enter the Guixu Ruins? The number of cultivators in Budding Soul Stage or above was extremely few, and there’d been none after those few grand ancestors had passed on.

The secret pavilion was a grotto that had been hollowed out from one of the mountain peaks. It wasn’t obvious at all from the outside, and it was only due to the complicated restrictive spells leading up to it that its importance to the clan was revealed. Fang Xing picked up his energy, flew past layers of restrictions, swaggered inside the pavilion, and he could only smile to himself after a quick glance inside.

Who said the Hentian clan was poor? There was plenty of good stuff!

The secret pavilion didn’t seem too large and was only slightly over a dozen square feet. Inside were wooden shelves with spirit treasures and talismans placed on top—most likely the resources offered by the Exalts who’d joined the clan over the years—which created a rather dazzling impression. Even the Shanbao Mountain and Spirit Essence Fang Xing had offered were there, making him feel even more at home.

In the center of the secret pavilion was a small pile of Spirit Stones ordered into three groups based on their quality, and the shelf on the southern side had a pile of all kinds of spirit pellets, certainly not a small amount at all. A quick look revealed there were many things but if one were to give it some more thought, considering the clan’s numbers—five full-mastery Golden Cores, four mid-stage Golden Cores, thirty early-stage Golden Cores, fifty or so Foundation Stages, countless Spirit Stages, and more than ten thousand non-cultivators—this really wasn’t much at all. The Guixu Ruins was indeed very poor.

Fang Xing grieved a bit when it was less than he’d imagined, but he quickly got over it and opened his storage sacks to start filling them up. “Well, meat is still meat, even if it’s only a mosquito’s. I won’t be picky, let’s just take it all!”

He intended to take everything, but he was dismayed to find storage sacks didn’t have too much space… or, really, he simply had too much already; all eight storage sacks were nearly at full capacity. Without any other options, he could only pick out the most valuable items, and for those worth less… he’d smash them!

“If only I had a bigger storage sack, one that would never be full no matter what I put inside…” Fang Xing muttered wistfully to himself while rummaging through the treasures. After picking through them for a while, he suddenly felt something was odd and halted. “Hmm… something’s not right…. Although there are some pieces that aren’t bad, the overall quality is only so-so. Even I don’t feel too tempted by them, so why would that Vermillion Bird be willing to stay concealed within the clan for an entire year for the sake of entering the secret pavilion? Nope, nope, nope, this pavilion must have some kind of secret I haven’t discovered yet. The legends say it has the items left behind by the Hentian’s great ancestor….”

Recalling the dragon girl’s treasure vault and how there was a hidden room inside the Colored Glass Palace, Fang Xing started paying extra attention to his surroundings. His Book of Revelation was activated to the utmost and he carefully inspected every single detail of the room.

It didn’t take too long before he realized that even though the four walls of the secret pavilion were filled with restrictive spells, one wall seemed to have slightly less but more powerful ones in comparison. This made him pay even closer attention; less spells meant the wall had to be moved often—since a higher number of spells meant a higher likelihood or accidentally triggering them—and the spells were more powerful as well, which meant whatever was behind the wall had to be precious enough for concern someone might sneak inside….

“Hehe, those old farts of the Hentian clan even do things like this. They’re pretty clever!” Fang Xing sneered while observing the wall’s front. Suddenly, he slammed his foot against a corner of the wall that was curved ever so slightly outward.

Screeeeeeeeech ….

After a screech that could cause teeth to ache, the wall moved and revealed an area hidden behind it.

“Experience is indeed very important….”

As soon as Fang Xing glanced inside this hidden area, he was dazed. It could be said the outer area was just a place for storage, whereas this was the true secret pavilion. This secret area was hidden so well that if he didn’t have the experience of finding the dragon girl’s treasure vault, he really might have missed it.

Inside this secret pavilion was a hidden room nine square feet across. In the center was a painting as tall as a grown man, and on it was the portrait of an old man with long hair and beard giving off a diabolic aura as he stepped onto a grey cloud, a strange bronze mirror in one hand and the head of a person in the other. The viciousness was so great it practically seeped through the painting, enough to send chills down the spines of any onlookers and terrify to the core.

Beneath the painting was a long desk with some food offerings and an incense burner. Everything within the small hidden room was within view, and there was nothing else aside from this. This left Fang Xing dumbfounded, but when he saw there weren’t any particularly strong spells surrounding it, he strolled closer.

Everything was as it seemed. Aside from the painting, there was only the long desk and offerings, without anything abnormal or special to speak of. This hidden room didn’t have any other mechanisms or spells and was exactly as it looked—empty, devoid of anything else. Fang Xing was confused when he didn’t find any so-called treasure left behind by the Hentian grand ancestor, and he muttered to himself with displeasure, “There’s no reason for this….”

Fang Xing took a closer look at the painting, but it didn’t seem to be a treasure either—it was merely an ordinary painting, and the paper had even yellowed a little along the edges. When he was first invited to become an Exalt, Fang Xing had paid his respect to a painting of the Hentian clan’s grand ancestor and this was clearly the exact same one. Based on what the Head Exalt said, the person in this painting was the grand ancestor himself.

There was nothing else within the hidden room and the painting itself was considerably ordinary, causing Fang Xing to grow a bit agitated. The massacre outside had never stopped and he wasn’t sure when the peril beasts would start barging in here; he didn’t have much time to waste.

When he raised his head, he subconsciously noticed the painting’s vicious gaze that was so realistic it felt as though a person was genuinely staring at Fang Xing. “Nn? What are you looking at, old man? You think I won’t poke out your eyes?” People would normally be terrified to see such a painting, but Fang Xing had guts large enough to cover the sky; not only was he not scared, he instead became infuriated and rolled his eyes while cursing back.

How dare an old fart who died so long ago look at this little grandpa in such a way!