The tunnel opened by the Divine Rod was deep and long. The first stretch sloped downward, then they pushed open a massive door, after which the path became perfectly straight. As they continued along this passage, gusts of wind kept blowing through, the air was a bit funky but not toxic—bearable, at least. Who knows how thick the walls were built with "ingredients," but they were solid and sturdy. Even with the massive earthquake outside, all they could hear inside was a muffled rumble, with no real impact.
"Look, there are paintings all over the walls!" Fiona Fang pointed. "What are they about?"
The tunnel’s walls and ceiling were covered in murals and carvings. The murals were ancient, their colors faded to nothing, leaving only obscure lines and patches—like black-and-white photos. Still, the style was both lavish and realistic, clearly works of real artistic value.
"The door was opened with 'that method.' Honestly, it sounds pretty sketchy, but I doubt it’s meaningless. The Divine Rod actually represents life, reproduction, and inheritance." Jack Young, ever the imaginative one, immediately made the connection. Many ancient human tribes worshipped reproductive organs, so the Divine Rod probably isn’t just for show. "I think these murals must be depicting the history of the South Wasteland people’s survival and reproduction—fitting for a ‘temple,’ don’t you think?"
As they walked and observed, it became clear the murals were painted in reverse order—the further they went, the older the events depicted. The murals featured many rulers and major events: some reigns were times of peace and prosperity, others were eras of misery. There were no written descriptions, but the images were vivid and clear, making it feel like they were strolling through the river of history.
None of the group had ever shown much interest in South Wasteland history, but whoever painted these murals was clearly no ordinary person. Each scene was so full of spirit and artistry that they couldn’t help but take a closer look.
Tracing the history as they moved forward, it was obvious the murals weren’t all done by the same hand—every so often, the style would shift, growing more ancient with each change. Advancing further, they saw many unique cultural scenes of the South Wasteland. Historically, the South Wasteland people rarely married outsiders, and even when they did, offspring were few and far between. It seems only in the past few centuries has this begun to change.
"This is basically a crash course in South Wasteland history. Maybe this tunnel was a pilgrimage route in ancient times. If it takes things like the Jade Sword or Jade Whisk to open it, there’s probably a special purpose and record behind it. It’s just a shame that Wang Lianhua went through all this trouble and still didn’t get the Wedding Dress Divine Skill—what a pity."
As they moved on, the mural lines grew simpler, eventually resembling ancient Egyptian carvings. Yet, this stark style used increasingly cold, severe strokes to depict the early struggles and triumphs of the South Wasteland people.
"From these murals, it looks like the South Wasteland people have always been one tribe, but their numbers were tiny in the past. How is that possible?" Luo Yuxi had a solid background in basic knowledge—even if she’d never studied cultural evolution, she knew about Darwin’s theory. If the South Wasteland people were always so strong and advanced, there shouldn’t have been such an obvious decline. This population curve doesn’t look like natural evolution—it’s more like what you’d see if you dropped a brand-new species into a strange environment.
The group kept moving forward, and finally came upon a particular mural.
This mural seemed to depict the origins of the South Wasteland people, but the content was so bizarre it caught everyone off guard. It showed a mountain with a person standing at the summit, surrounded by eight men and women kneeling around the base. Both the person on the peak and the eight kneeling figures were enveloped in halos, making the scene look impossibly mysterious.
From what was carved on the wall, all South Wasteland people descended from these eight individuals. One of the women became pregnant by the person atop the mountain, and that lineage became the royal bloodline.
The wildest part: on either side of the mountaintop figure, two lines were etched, like beams shooting up into the sky—just like those alien abduction rays in old sci-fi movies. According to the mural, this person eventually vanished into thin air.
"Uh..." Blind Elder and the others exchanged glances, but Fiona Fang was the first to offer an explanation: "Ancient people were superstitious—they believed in ghosts and gods. I bet this was just the ancient royals lying, claiming their ancestors were deities to shore up their rule. Nothing special, really—isn’t that right, Master?"
But Jack Young didn’t agree right away. If it were just nonsense written in a book, you could make up whatever you wanted. Like certain island nation emperors—when their lineage ran out, they’d just make up a myth to legitimize themselves. Happens all the time. But this mural wasn’t like that. He didn’t know what to make of the light beams over the mountaintop figure, but the halos around the eight people felt oddly familiar.
Jack Young couldn’t recall where he’d seen it before, but those simple lines triggered a strange feeling in him. His left hand’s side profile seemed restless, as if something deep inside was trying to remind him of something.
But whatever that message was, he couldn’t grasp it yet.
"Going over it again, it seems like all South Wasteland people descended from these eight. And for a long time, they couldn’t marry or have kids with outsiders, so population growth was slow—especially for the royal bloodline, which had a tough time branching out. Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like the royal bloodline’s pregnancies lasted way longer than normal. The mural even makes a point of showing this. It’s almost like—" Rachel Luo nearly blurted out her answer, but hesitated at the last moment.
"Like what, Senior Sister?"
"Uh... like a celestial being descending to earth."
Transmigrator—that word is almost taboo in this world. Best not to mention it if you can help it. Rachel Luo trusted Fiona Fang, but wasn’t so sure about Blind Elder and the others, so she gave a vague answer instead.
"Celestial being descending?" Princess Flower Shifter nodded. "Interesting. If that’s really the case, then maybe the whole ‘Martial Path to Heaven’ thing isn’t just talk."
"Alright, enough about that—it’s got nothing to do with us. Let’s keep moving." Jack Young pointed to the mountain in the mural. "Maybe this is the real Holy Mountain. We’ve seen all the murals, so we must be close."
Jack Young’s guess was spot on. Not far after the last mural, the path started sloping upward, and the rumbling of the earth grew louder—they were clearly near the end. At the tunnel’s end was a stone door; grabbing both handles and twisting, it swung open with surprising ease, much easier than the others. A blast of wind rushed in, forcing the sailors to stagger backward. It was still night outside, and when they crawled out of the tunnel, they found themselves inside a temple.
Outside the temple, endless wind and sand made the entrance look like a portal to another world. The sandstorms came in cycles—sometimes fierce, sometimes gentle. Jack Young tested the wind, then nodded to everyone and stepped out first. The sand rattled against their bodies, and the wind nearly swept them away. If not for thirty years of internal energy anchoring their feet, they’d have needed something heavy just to walk through it.
The stretch of sandstorm wasn’t long—after a few dozen meters, it suddenly cleared up. Looking back, they realized the tunnel had taken them past the Deadly Ninety-Nine Desert. The raging earth continued to unleash its fury behind them, and seeing those hundreds-of-meters-high mushroom-shaped sand clouds from the ground was even more awe-inspiring. The temple they’d just exited was right on the edge of the sandstorm zone, and it was hard not to think, "Man, this place is a wreck!"
Apparently, on new moon days, the Deadly Ninety-Nine Desert is a little calmer. But if you hit it during the second half of the month, it’s like a menopausal mother dragon catching her husband cheating—absolute chaos.
Still, the weird thing was, even though the Deadly Ninety-Nine Desert looked like it’d been carpet-bombed, the wind and sand formed a shifting boundary with each cycle. Where Jack Young was standing, it wasn’t spotless, but at least there weren’t sand grains flying everywhere.
When the rest of the group came through hand-in-hand, their eyes widened at the sight ahead. "Is this... the Holy Mountain?" Rachel Luo blurted out, "Why is it a pyramid?"
Sure enough, what lay before them wasn’t a mountain—it was a man-made structure, about six or seven hundred meters high. But it wasn’t a four-sided pyramid like in Egypt; instead, it had eight sides, like a giant bagua. Compared to the four-thousand-meter mountains surrounding it, this building seemed small, but the long stairways, pillars, sculptures, and intricate carvings gave it an air of mystery.
The stone was dark and somber, almost black, giving the whole place a heavy, oppressive vibe.
"This pyramid looks almost exactly like the mountain surrounded by eight people in the mural—this must be the place. Let’s go see what’s inside this South Wasteland temple." Jack Young took the lead, heading up the steps.
Climbing higher, Jack Young realized they were probably the first to reach this place. There were eight stairways, one for each direction, each pointing to a separate passage. Who knows how many tunnels, besides the Divine Rod’s, have been opened—or how many people have made it this far.
The stairs didn’t go all the way to the top. About halfway up, there was a huge, pitch-black doorway. The group exchanged glances, then Jack Young led the way, followed by Princess Flower Shifter, as they officially entered the Holy Mountain pyramid.
The whole passage was built from the same black stone, perfectly fitted together. The four-thousand-meter mountains outside were made of the same stuff. Jack Young tested it: "This stone is super hard—way tougher than normal rock. No wonder there’s barely any weathering. Even a divine weapon would have a hard time leaving a mark."
Princess Flower Shifter mused, "I’ve heard there’s a kind of diamond rock in the South Wasteland—fire and water can’t hurt it, blades and axes can’t break it. This must be it."
"No idea if there are any traps in this temple, so stick close and don’t get separated," Jack Young said, taking the lead with a torch. The passage was lined with sculptures, some resembling taotie motifs, making the pitch-dark environment feel extra creepy. But the tunnel wasn’t long, and soon they entered a large hall. As the torchlight spread, golden reflections danced in everyone’s eyes.
"Gold?" Blind Elder and the others perked up, rushing into the room. Torches flared, and the light revealed a fifty-square-meter chamber filled with gold! There were golden artifacts and statues—everything was pure gold. They’d seen a lot of gold in the ancient space before, but compared to that prehistoric civilization, the South Wasteland’s productivity was off the charts—more gold, more shine, covering the whole floor.
"Whoa—!" The sailors started drooling, ready to snatch up the gold. But Jack Young, Princess Flower Shifter, and Rachel Luo remained unmoved—clearly, they weren’t short on cash. Fiona Fang scratched her chin and muttered, "Sure, there’s a lot, but it’s not as much as I imagined. Doesn’t seem all that rich."
"Look at these walls—all of them have stone doors. There’s probably something special about them." Jack Young walked to one of the side doors, which had a movable dial next to it. After exchanging glances with the others, Jack Young turned the mechanism. With a grinding sound, the stone door automatically rose up. Behind it was another square hall, also packed full of gold.
Those who had just complained about not having enough money suddenly got deep, thoughtful looks. Each wall of the square hall had a door, and every hall beyond those doors also had doors. If every door led to another hall, and every hall was filled with this much gold, then...
"Move it! Start hauling gold—take as much as you can, until you can’t carry any more!" Blind Elder was suddenly all fired up, waving his arms excitedly. "We’re gonna be rich! Filthy rich!"
"You guys stay and haul gold, but pace yourselves—and don’t mess with any mechanisms. The traps here are probably deadly, and these two rooms have plenty of gold already." Jack Young kept his cool, knowing this was just the beginning. The deeper you go in the pyramid, the bigger it gets—and gold is probably the least valuable treasure here. Wait until you see the real loot before getting excited.
Storage space was limited, and for him, real treasure meant small and exquisite things. Even though his storage capacity had recently expanded, gold was still the most useless thing to him. So he stayed calm, like someone who’s seen it all—until he found the stairway down to the second level.
The second level was a massive hall, with a soaring ceiling and a floor as big as a small plaza. Statues and carvings everywhere—all made of solid gold. The place glittered so brightly it made your head spin.
"No way... Did the South Wasteland people move all their gold into this temple?"
Found the stairs—down we go!
The third level was even bigger than the second, like a whole city block—almost "vast." The ceiling was over ten meters high, and the floor undulated like ocean waves. And those "waves" were made of coins! Every crest and trough was nothing but pure, gaudy gold coins.
Is America’s 8,000-plus tons of gold a lot? If bankers from the States saw this, their eyes would pop right out! Gold everywhere—grab a handful, let it fall, and the crisp clinking sound would shake you to your core!
"Holy crap..." Even Jack Young couldn’t keep his cool in the face of this sight. "This is insane—just how many gold mines does the South Wasteland have?! The entire Eagle Project warehouse of gold bars probably isn’t even a fifth of what’s here! This sea of gold—how many people would willingly drown in it?"
Princess Flower Shifter’s jaw dropped too. "How much gold and silver does the Flower Kingdom’s treasury take in for a whole year? How much is there in all of Central Plains? This is just too much! Whoever owns this could call the shots—could topple dynasties! If you have this much money and real power, you could change the world." When money reaches a certain level, it really is unstoppable. And if you’ve got the muscle to back it up, that’s a game changer.
"Topple dynasties? Overthrow empires?" Jack Young suddenly paused, struck by a thought. Even if all this gold was useless to him personally, it could still be incredibly valuable. The big plan he’d been plotting—maybe, with this gold, it could go a lot smoother!
It’s like those sub-grade Meat Pills—he never needed that many himself. He’d never use even a fifth of them before they stopped working for him. But the extras could make new masters and boost his side’s overall strength. Same with money: it might not mean much to him, but for the Daughter Kingdom in his farming-tech plan, it’d be a huge help.
The best move now was to use his storage space to haul all this gold to Tianshan. With money, he could do whatever he wanted—the sky was the limit!
Tianshan, Misty Peak.
With a jolt, Yang Qi sprang up from her slumber like a zombie. Without a word or a glance at anyone, she darted out of the secret chamber. The palace maids didn’t even blink—clearly used to her antics. Yang Qi kicked off hard, launching herself like a cannonball down the mountain. She didn’t care about cliffs or crags—within minutes, she reached the second courtyard of the Spirit Vulture Palace. As the maids shrieked, she suddenly leapt into the giant chasm like it was nothing.
"Quick, go report to the Honored Master—the young mistress just jumped off Broken Soul Cliff!"
Ignoring the panicked maids, Yang Qi deftly bounced down the cliff, using the walls to slow her descent, and dove straight for the deepest part of the dark crevice.
The chasm was over a thousand meters deep. With a thud, Yang Qi landed at the very bottom and pulled out the Flame Tide to use as a lantern. She looked around: the sheer drop, the pitch-black, desolate atmosphere, and the toxic, miasmic air—all of it made her nod in satisfaction.
Soon enough, with a swoosh, Wu Zhengfeng dropped down too. In the pitch-black, terrifying chasm, she charged in fearlessly.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" She anxiously grabbed Yang Qi and checked her over, then frowned and scolded, "What were you thinking, jumping into this abyss for no reason? Your lightness skill isn’t great, and brute strength can’t protect you from everything!" Then she noticed the Flame Tide Yang Qi was dragging, eyes wide in surprise. "What is that? It’s like a miniature sun!"
"That’s nothing. Come on, darling, let’s explore this place together. If it’s really cut off from the world and there aren’t any weird hermits living here, then this’ll be our vault!"
"Vault?"
"Yep, a vault!" Yang Qi put her hands on her hips and burst out laughing. "We’re gonna be rich—rolling in dough, ha ha ha!"
"Uh..." Wu Zhengfeng was confused. After spending time with Yang Qi, she knew Yang Qi didn’t lie, but where was all this money coming from? "What’s going on here?"
"Alright, I’ll tell you everything from the beginning."