Seeing this scene, Yan Zezhi’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t think too much of Wei Tu’s move; he just felt Wei Tu deliberately chose three second-rank spiritual lands that didn’t belong to the Yan family to reject their goodwill. ‘Maybe I pushed him too hard,’ Yan Zezhi thought, realizing he had been overly enthusiastic earlier, which could look suspicious—like he was scheming something.

“Daoist Cui, these three lands aren’t owned by the Yan family. They already have owners. It won’t be easy,” Yan Zezhi reminded. In other words, he could decide on Yan family lands, but for those belonging to other families in Lougao Sect, he didn’t have the power.

“There’s no need for Elder Yan to worry about this,” Wei Tu replied with a faint smile. “I have enough resources. Renting a third-rank spiritual land might be beyond me, but a second-rank one is a simple matter.”

Hearing this, Yan Zezhi, who had wanted to persuade him further, swallowed his words. Earlier, when Wei Tu joined Lougao Sect, Yan Zezhi represented the sect to allocate a free cave dwelling, so he had reason to intervene. But now, since Wei Tu offered to rent at his own expense, it was inappropriate to keep pressing.

‘Even if he doesn’t move into a Yan family cave, it doesn’t matter. There are other ways to claim his estate later…’ Yan Zezhi’s eyes narrowed, a plan forming in his mind. Staying in a Yan family cave would have made Wei Tu half a member of their clan, giving the Yan family a rightful claim over his belongings when he died.

Of course, on the surface, Yan Zezhi hid his ambitions. He smiled, flattered Wei Tu a bit, and assured him he’d act as an intermediary to secure one of those three lands.

Wei Tu’s three chosen second-rank lands were Little Cold Mountain, Falling Mist Ravine, and Red Tower Slope. After settling Wei Tu temporarily in the Lougao Sect’s guest hall, Yan Zezhi immediately sent his nephew Yan Zhenping to negotiate with the owners of those lands, aiming to buy or transfer ownership.

He chose the easiest target first: Little Cold Mountain. Unlike the other two lands owned by the Li and Song families—both on par with the Yan family and potential competitors for Wei Tu’s future estate—Little Cold Mountain was nominally controlled by a small Foundation Establishment Bian clan.

The Bian clan only rented the land from Lougao Sect a millennium ago, and with the Yan family’s influence, it wouldn’t be difficult to force them to give up their claim.

Yan Zhenping wasted no time. That same afternoon, he flew to Little Cold Mountain and ordered Bian clan leader Bian Sheng to give up the land within seven days and vacate immediately.

“According to the old contract, Lougao Sect reserves the right to unilaterally terminate the lease,” he declared coldly. “But the sect is fair. Here are five thousand spirit stones—enough to cover your losses.”

With that, he placed a bag of spirit stones in the clan’s main hall, ignored Bian Sheng’s pleas, flicked his sleeves, and left.

This action instantly alerted the Nascent Soul True Lords of the She Ri Tribe hidden in Little Cold Mountain. “Little Cold Mountain is remote and barren. After a thousand years, Lougao Sect never reclaimed it—why the sudden urgency?” one wondered. “Is it possible the Yan family discovered the Iceheart Spirit Dew beneath it?” another speculated.

“Impossible,” a third denied. “The Bian clan might bear their own surname, but they’re our Yu Wen royal clan’s shadow. They wouldn’t leak the secret. Besides, except for Bian Sheng himself, no Bian clan member even knows what’s hidden underground.”

All three She Ri Tribe True Lords exchanged confused glances through spiritual sense. After all, on the surface, Little Cold Mountain wasn’t valuable enough to attract outside attention.

“Let Bian Sheng go to Lougao Sect to investigate. If there’s really a leak, we’ll deal with it then,” said the burly man with a golden crow tattoo on his face, making the first decision.

Since Little Cold Mountain lay in Cao Prefecture of the Xiao Kingdom—not in the She Ri Tribe’s Kang Kingdom territory—they wouldn’t act rashly unless absolutely necessary. They preferred handling things through formal channels.

Two days later, Bian Sheng returned with news: he told them the Yan family was forcing them out because an elderly Golden Core cultivator wanted to rent the land as a temporary cave dwelling.

Over their thousand-year hold on Little Cold Mountain, the She Ri Tribe had placed spies throughout Lougao Sect to ensure nothing unexpected happened to their treasure trove. News of Wei Tu’s status as a guest elder in Lougao Sect wasn’t a secret within the sect.

“An old Golden Core cultivator at the end of his life wants to rent Little Cold Mountain…,” the three True Lords echoed. They all let out relieved sighs. Deals like this had occurred before—Foundation Establishment cultivators renting Little Cold Mountain for seclusion were common, and the Bian clan had always handled them smoothly.

Wei Tu’s case wasn’t much different, except he was a Golden Core cultivator, which explained why he convinced the Yan family to intervene, making things more complicated this time.

“Grandmaster Dun’er, what should we do now?” Bian Sheng bowed low, asking the burly man seated on the underground ritual platform with a golden crow tattoo on his face.

The Bian clan was only at Foundation Establishment level and couldn’t possibly refuse the Yan family’s demands. “An old man nearing death…” Grandmaster Dun’er muttered after a brief pause. With the three of them here, wiping out the Yan family or killing Wei Tu would be easy. But doing so would draw the attention of the Xiao Kingdom’s forces and expose the secret of the Iceheart Spirit Dew sooner or later.

Yet, if they wanted to legally keep control of Little Cold Mountain, relying on the Bian clan’s meager strength was simply wishful thinking—nearly impossible. “The Iceheart Spirit Dew lies deep underground here,” Dun’er continued. “Unless someone has an eye-related technique, it’s nearly impossible to spot. And that Cui fellow doesn’t have long to live…”

He pondered a bit longer, then said, “Bian Sheng, agree to the Yan family’s demands. Give up Little Cold Mountain. We’ll seal the Iceheart Spirit Dew underground and redeem the land after this Cui dies.” Dun’er believed this was the most reasonable choice. After all, the dew had been here for thousands of years. None of Lougao Sect’s ancestors had ever discovered it. How could a dying Golden Core cultivator possibly notice anything amiss?

One of the other clan Golden Cores seemed like he wanted to say something but swallowed his words at the last moment. While Dun’er’s plan was solid, adding one detail could have made it perfect: if one or two of them stayed underground near the Iceheart Spirit Dew, they could intervene immediately if Wei Tu noticed anything. But staying there for decades without spiritual energy would be torturous and a waste of their lives. Drawing spiritual energy underground would also risk exposing themselves.

Meanwhile, Wei Tu waited quietly in Lougao Sect for good news. He had deliberately chosen Yan Zezhi and his nephew as his sponsors because he knew their greed made them reliable pawns. His supposed end-of-life inheritance and the Solid Flame Pill were bait he used to ensure they’d work wholeheartedly for him. He’d learned Little Cold Mountain’s true value from searching Yu Wencheng’s memories. As long as he used legitimate means to seize it, no one would suspect a thing.

Seven days passed in a flash. On the day Yan Zhenping’s ultimatum expired, Yan Zezhi and his nephew came to Wei Tu with gifts, congratulating him on securing Little Cold Mountain. Wei Tu noticed a young woman in a red palace dress, elegant and dignified, standing beside Yan Zhenping. She was at early Foundation Establishment.

“And who might this be?” Wei Tu asked, guessing their intentions. “Respected Elder Cui, this is my little girl, Yan Xiaolan,” Yan Zhenping replied with a pleased stroke of his beard. “She’s kind and skilled at taking care of cultivators.” As he finished, Yan Xiaolan stepped forward gracefully, lifted her skirt slightly, and bowed. “Greetings, Elder Cui,” she said softly.

While bowing, Yan Xiaolan sneaked a glance at the yellow-skinned, ordinary-faced middle-aged man before her. Though disgust rose in her heart, she forced a warm smile, remembering the riches she’d inherit if she played along.

“Daoist Cui arrived alone, without family or trusted followers, and Little Cold Mountain is quite spacious,” Yan Zezhi added smoothly. “My grandniece is excellent at managing household affairs. If you don’t mind, please feel free to employ her.”

Yan Zezhi watched Wei Tu’s expression closely, catching a brief flash of surprise in his eyes when he looked at Yan Xiaolan. Knowing he had hooked him, Yan Zezhi smiled broadly. After all, Yan Xiaolan was the most beautiful woman in the Yan family.

Wei Tu hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Since the Yan family has gone to such lengths and secured this land for me, how could I refuse Elder Yan’s kind offer?” His words sounded reluctant but carried a smug undertone. Seeing this, Yan Xiaolan felt contempt—he looked lecherous to her, pretending reluctance while coveting her beauty.

Still, she stepped closer, gently clasping Wei Tu’s thin, yellowed hand with her delicate fingers. Yan Zhenping’s brow twitched with discomfort at the sight—after all, the girl was his daughter. Forcing her to serve an old Golden Core cultivator for the promise of an inheritance left him feeling humiliated. ‘It’s fine,’ he thought coldly. ‘If that old lecher gets distracted by lust, he’ll die even faster, and we’ll get our hands on his estate sooner.’

Half a day later, Wei Tu moved into Little Cold Mountain with Yan Xiaolan at his side, accompanied by the Yan family’s servants. Ostensibly there to serve Wei Tu, those servants were really there to spy on him, making sure he couldn’t run off with their future windfall.

In the cave mansion’s bedroom, Yan Xiaolan sat shyly on the warm bed, cheeks flushed, waiting to consummate her new role and secure her status as concubine. But when Wei Tu entered, he ignored her entirely. His brows knitted slightly as he glanced her way, then he flicked his sleeve and walked straight past to the pill room, leaving her sitting alone in awkward silence.

He only left behind a cold statement. “I know what the Yan family wants. If I really can’t return to Kang Kingdom before I die, my inheritance will naturally go to the Yan family.”

Hearing this, Yan Xiaolan’s face went pale. She sat frozen on the warm bed, completely at a loss. The Yan family had sent her to Little Cold Mountain to become Wei Tu’s concubine, so after his death, she could claim his inheritance. But now, if Wei Tu wouldn’t even touch her… it meant she had already failed her mission.

‘So he’s not a fool after all. He knows the Yan family is after his wealth,’ Yan Xiaolan cursed inwardly. But no matter how she railed against Wei Tu in her heart, it couldn’t change her situation. She paced anxiously around the bedroom, on the verge of panic.

If there was no progress in her relationship with Wei Tu, even if the Yan family cultivators listened to her excuses, what about later? Obviously, they wouldn’t blame Wei Tu, the powerful old Golden Core. They would only blame her for not serving him well enough, for failing to win his favor so he’d share a bed with her.

In short, her position was too low! Whether in front of Wei Tu or her own family, she was always the one with no power.

Just then, Yan Xiaolan caught a whiff of an intoxicating scent drifting in from outside the room—a rich, lingering fragrance of freshly refined pills. She could feel her cultivation faintly loosening under its influence.

“Lucky day. I managed to refine four pills today. Take this Jade Marrow Pill as a gift,” Wei Tu’s voice suddenly came to her ears. She looked up just in time to see a green streak of energy carrying a pale jade pill flying straight toward her.

The pill landed perfectly in her palm. “Thank you, Elder Cui!” she said in a rush, overjoyed as she bowed deeply. Jade Marrow Pills were second-rank lower-grade pills worth seven hundred spirit stones each. With her status, she’d need at least ten years of contributions to the clan to earn one. But today, on the very day she met Wei Tu, he casually gifted her one.

The contrast was so shocking it left her dazed. In that moment, a new thought began to form in Yan Xiaolan’s mind—maybe siding with Wei Tu could bring her far greater rewards than anything the Yan family offered.

Meanwhile, in the pill room next door, Wei Tu watched her reaction with a faint smile and a hint of mockery. “Your judgment was spot on,” Bai Zhi said lightly. “As soon as she got a small favor, her heart began to change.”

“Whether she truly changes will depend on her future actions,” Wei Tu replied, shaking his head. “The Yan family isn’t my enemy. Otherwise, using a Seven-Colored Phantom Moth to hypnotize her or having you plant a ghost parasite on her would have been far quicker and easier.”

He had only let Yan Xiaolan into Little Cold Mountain to ease the Yan family’s and Dun’er Grandmaster’s suspicions. After all, it was better to release pressure than to fight it head-on. But having Yan Xiaolan as his concubine was still a nuisance. Under different circumstances, he wouldn’t have minded dual cultivating with a pretty woman like her—just like he had with Qi Feng in the past.

But now, his blood and essence were severely depleted. Engaging in dual cultivation would only delay his recovery of body strength indefinitely. On top of that, he was operating under a false identity. Taking a concubine under an alias was bound to cause trouble.

Most importantly, Yan Xiaolan was here for his future inheritance, unlike Qi Feng, who only sought protection so she could cultivate in peace. Accepting a woman with ulterior motives as a concubine was nothing but a recipe for disaster.

“Yan Xiaolan may have agreed to become your concubine for profit, but that same desire could also make her betray her own family,” Bai Zhi remarked knowingly.

“Enough about Yan Xiaolan,” Wei Tu interrupted, waving his hand. “We didn’t come to Little Cold Mountain for a concubine. We’re here for the Iceheart Spirit Dew underground.”

“Yes, Daoist Wei,” Bai Zhi replied. She rolled her eyes in private, then took the Tai Miao Treasure Mirror from Wei Tu before turning into a swirl of black ghostly mist that slipped into the depths below the cave mansion.

Nearly half a day later, threads of black mist began to seep up from the cracks in the pill room floor. Bai Zhi’s ghostly form reassembled. “The underground area of Little Cold Mountain is sealed by a formation set by the She Ri Tribe’s grandmasters. But the good news is there’s no cultivator guarding it,” she reported.

“However, unlike the Silver Moon Pool, the formation down there is extremely sophisticated. I’ll need at least half a month to break through it,” she added.

“Half a month?” Wei Tu was quietly astonished. Bai Zhi was a top-tier third-rank formation master and had the Tai Miao Treasure Mirror, a supreme treasure for breaking barriers. Usually, third-rank formations took her only a day or two.

‘The She Ri Tribe truly deserves their Nascent Soul-level reputation,’ Wei Tu thought. He guessed the formation was most likely laid by Master Jin Xia herself. There was no way someone like Grandmaster Dun’er could set up something so advanced.

That also explained why Dun’er and his allies were so confident they could leave Little Cold Mountain unguarded after sealing the Iceheart Spirit Dew.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep