Chapter Twelve: A Single Brush!

In the unfathomable underground world of the Sole Myriad Sect.

When Wang Ran caught sight of the plaque before him, his expression flickered with surprise.

Azure Sea Thirteen Towers?

What could that mean?

The "Thirteen Towers" was easy enough to grasp; when he was still in midair, Wang Ran had already seen thirteen palace towers here. But what was the significance of "Azure Sea"?

The Sole Myriad Sect seemed to have nothing that could be associated with those words. Puzzling over it to no avail, Wang Ran simply let the matter drop.

He moved, ascending the steps of this palace, and paused before the door of the first tower. Just as he was about to enter, he hesitated—cautious by nature, he did not dare to act rashly.

Thinking better of it, he picked up a piece of rubble from the ground and tossed it inside.

Tap, tap, tap…

The stone bounced across the floor, echoing in the stillness. Seeing that nothing untoward happened, Wang Ran finally stepped in.

The entire first floor was vast. Wang Ran glanced around and noticed a door left ajar to one of the rooms, so he made his way over and entered.

Coughing, he was immediately enveloped by a cloud of dust. Waving his hand vigorously, he peered into the room.

It appeared to be a living quarter, furnished most simply: a single table, atop which sat a jug of fine wine, now thickly coated with dust, the spout blocked by cobwebs.

On the other side of the table stood a single wooden bed, the bedding neatly folded. Above the bed, hanging on the wall, was a long sword. Wang Ran stepped closer to inspect it; the craftsmanship was exquisite, and the scabbard was adorned with a crest shaped like a cresting wave.

If not for the pervasive aura of decay and neglect, one might almost believe someone still lived here.

After leaving this room, Wang Ran entered the others, finding them all similarly arranged. It seemed the entire first floor served only as sleeping quarters.

He climbed the stairs and entered the second floor.

The second floor was slightly smaller than the first, but nothing of value remained—only the stench of rot and furniture smothered in dust.

Wang Ran pressed on, ascending floor after floor, until he reached the seventh, where he encountered something different. Surprisingly, the seventh floor held no sleeping chambers. Instead, the north and south wings of the floor were both libraries.

Much like the Daoist Technique Hall of the Sole Myriad Sect, these rooms were filled with all manner of techniques and arts.

Wang Ran picked up a scroll, blew off the dust, and unfurled it. It was a three-star combat technique titled "Eagle's Strength Finger."

Legend held this technique was conceived by a cultivator named Eagle, who could gather all his power into his fingertip—one strike could pierce steel and shatter rock.

Yet for Wang Ran, who had already reached the eighth star in Daoist arts during the Qi Condensation stage, such a three-star technique seemed rather childish.

I truly have no use for this!

He tossed the scroll into his system's pack without a second thought and continued rifling through the collections.

Though the seventh floor held a great many techniques, the majority were two or three-star, with only a scant few at four or five stars.

Wang Ran realized then that this underground palace must be the remnant of some ancient ruin, unknown even to the members of the Sole Myriad Sect.

If it weren't for the system's assistance, he doubted he would have discovered it at all.

Despite their low level, Wang Ran's principle was to never leave behind treasures for others, so he gathered up every technique he could find.

After clearing out the seventh floor, Wang Ran took stock and found that he had acquired over a hundred techniques, eight of which were three or four-star.

An unexpected windfall indeed. Satisfied, he pressed onward.

The next three floors yielded little, but as he ascended, each subsequent hall grew increasingly grand in scale.

It was only upon reaching the twelfth floor that Wang Ran's eyes lit up, his breath coming fast.

For this floor, though not large and containing just a single room, was a treasury of spirit jades!

Piled like a small hill, the spirit jades’ unique properties had preserved their pristine brilliance over countless years, gleaming with an enticing luster.

"I'm rich! I've struck it rich!"

Wang Ran rubbed his hands in glee, picking up a piece and feeling its cool, pleasant weight. Closing his eyes, he could sense the pure spiritual energy contained within.

These spirit jades were of rare purity—far more precious than those commonly found.

And here, there were hundreds of them, ripe for the taking.

Without hesitation, Wang Ran summoned his system pack and swept the entire trove inside.

Most cultivators relied on storage pouches, but Wang Ran’s system pack was vast, easily accommodating all these treasures and saving him the cost of a pouch.

Now, Wang Ran was thoroughly content. Since entering this hidden legacy site, he had first obtained a hundred techniques, and now a windfall of spirit jades—far exceeding his initial expectations.

After surveying the twelfth floor one last time and confirming nothing had been overlooked, Wang Ran strode up the final flight of stairs—to the thirteenth floor!

This was the highest chamber of the ruin, and also the smallest. If the Azure Sea Thirteen Towers formed a pyramid, this was its very apex.

Though not spacious, the single grand hall was magnificently constructed, exquisitely ornate.

The ceiling soared a hundred feet high, studded with gems that filled the hall with radiant light. The chamber was vast and empty, its stone walls adorned with murals depicting a myriad of scenes.

Some figures soared into the sky, striving to challenge the heavens.

Some fished by tranquil waters, as if contemplating the Dao.

Some rode swords at lightning speed, as though cleaving the very earth asunder.

The murals were varied and intricate. As Wang Ran entered the hall, the images seemed to come alive. His vision blurred, and suddenly, another world unfolded before his eyes.

He saw a figure soaring upward, brandishing a sword—a single stroke unleashed invisible sword energy, felling foes a thousand miles away. Another figure roared, his body swelling to immense size, rivers and mountains beneath his feet, tearing stars asunder with his bare hands.

Countless other cultivators displayed their own divine powers, battling fiercely across the land. The ground ran red with blood, an ocean of carnage engulfing the world.

It was a battlefield, pure and simple.

Before Wang Ran could react—just as these scenes of brutal war flashed before him—they vanished completely.

All at once, stillness returned. The hall was empty and silent once more, as if nothing had ever happened.

Wang Ran’s heart trembled. He pressed deeper into the hall.

Not far ahead, something seemed to float in midair.

As he drew closer, the object became clearer, revealing itself fully.

Wang Ran’s eyes widened, his heart pounding wildly.

Hovering before him was an enormous calligraphy brush, as thick as a tree trunk, suspended quietly in midair.