Reading the dates, Han Yu reckoned the second alchemist to touch this old book had likely lived during the same era.

But then what about the original?

The 116th year of Yuan predated that by an unknown margin, making this book potentially thousands of years older than the tomb itself.

Han Yu stared at the ink-stained pages, stunned into silence. His hands trembled slightly as he flipped through the contents again. Many of the herbs listed within were completely unfamiliar to him. Their names did not exist in any compendium he had ever read, nor in the sect's libraries. Some might be extinct, others perhaps called by different names long ago.

It was as though he were reading a window into a lost age of alchemy.

His companions were too busy with their own discoveries to notice his expression, but Han Yu was overwhelmed. To any other disciple, this might look like a pile of ruined drafts with little use. To him, it was priceless. It held not just knowledge, but the lineage of thought stretching back into the forgotten depths of history.

He closed the book gently, almost reverently, and made his decision.

This one he would not share at all.

The jade slips, yes, those would eventually go to the sect. But this book?

It was far too personal, far too rare. Who else could appreciate it properly?

Who else would even understand the fragments, the scribbled notes, the extinct herbs?

They would dismiss it as useless. Only Han Yu could see the potential hidden within the half-finished lines.

He had already decided to be selfish, so why not a bit more selfish?

He slipped the book into the innermost part of his storage bag, careful to wrap it in a protective cloth so the fragile pages would not tear. He told himself it was justified. The sect would still gain incredible treasures from the repository. This single book would not be missed.

But for him, it could mean everything.

As he straightened and rejoined the group, he could still feel the weight of it resting close to him. Ancient words, forgotten herbs, and insights older than the sect itself.

He could already imagine the long nights he would spend deciphering it, struggling through incomplete recipes and cross-referencing extinct ingredients, chasing whispers of alchemists who had lived and died thousands of years before.

Han Yu's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. In this tomb, amid countless treasures, he had just found his own personal inheritance.

STEP STEP STEP

The group had barely managed to go through a tenth of the towering shelves when the sound of footsteps reached their ears. At first, it was faint, a steady drumming that might have been mistaken for the settling of the stone structure.

But then it grew clearer, multiplied, and echoed in the chamber. The disciples all stiffened instantly, exchanging glances that carried the same thought. Someone was approaching, and not just one person.

Han Yu noticed the slight shift in their expressions as their instincts sharpened.

Weapons were drawn almost in unison, blades glinting, talismans sliding into palms, and qi rising quietly to the surface of their bodies. The dim light of the repository reflected off their tense faces as they waited.

The approaching figures came into view soon after.

Dozens of footsteps poured into the chamber, and for a moment the air was heavy with tension. Yet that tension broke the instant their eyes fell on the flowing robes. Familiar patterns embroidered with leaf motifs and pill furnaces marked the approaching group.

"Elder Qing!"

The cry rose from every disciple's throat at once, relief flooding their voices. The stern faces softened, and the taut string of fear loosened.

The man leading the procession was none other than Elder Qing himself, a High Elder of Alchemy Peak. His stature alone commanded respect, but his calm and steady expression reassured them further.

He was not only a master alchemist of the sect, but also the one responsible for overseeing the Alchemy disciples and the logistics division of this very expedition. In a way, he was Han Yu's Boss's boss.

The fact that he had come personally spoke volumes about the gravity of what had been found.

He was not alone though. Behind him came three Junior Elders, each with sharp gazes and refined bearing, and no less than twenty disciples who carried with them an impressive array of Spatial Storage artifacts.

Bags, rings, pendants, and even two bracelets glittered faintly under the light, each one a rare treasure in its own right. The message was clear. They had come prepared to harvest everything this place had to offer.

Senior Brother Duan and Xuan Qing stepped forward quickly, bowing with respect before Elder Qing and beginning to explain. Their words poured forth in careful detail, filling in what their earlier messages to the sect had omitted.

They spoke of their exploration of the tomb's inner passages, of how they had stumbled upon the concealed repository, and of how dangerous the approach had been. They also recounted the sudden and violent attack from the Mist Eye Sect disciples who had emerged through a hidden passage.

At this, the expressions of Elder Qing and the other elders darkened. The Mist Eye Sect was unorthodox and troublesome at the best of times, but their presence here in the depths of such an ancient tomb was deeply concerning.

"Are you certain of what you saw?" Elder Qing asked, his tone calm but carrying a weight of authority.

"Yes, Elder," Senior Brother Duan replied firmly. "Their robes, their techniques, their strange mist. It was the Mist Eye Sect without a doubt. We were fortunate to survive their ambush."

The Junior Elders frowned in thought. One of them stroked his beard, speaking slowly. "It is troubling. For them to appear here suggests they have access to passages unknown to us. Still, it may simply be coincidence. They are opportunistic scavengers, after all."

The disciples around them nodded, most of them accepting the explanation with visible unease.

Coincidence seemed easier to accept than conspiracy.

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