Aaryan stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders as he walked through the sect grounds.

For the first time in weeks, there were no eager disciples waiting outside his cave. No one was throwing themselves at his feet, begging for enlightenment. No whispers of "Wise One" followed him.

Finally. Peace.

It felt strange.

He wasn't running. He wasn't scheming. He wasn't crafting elaborate nonsense to keep up his fake reputation.

He was just… existing.

And he had to admit—it felt good.

With a rare moment of calm, Aaryan decided it was time to enjoy the one upside of his ridiculous ordeal: wealth.

All those desperate offerings, the gifts from hopeful disciples, the tributes of Essence Stones, rare herbs, and even a few expensive pills—he still had them. And now, without the burden of pretending to be a prophet, he was free to use them however he pleased.

He grinned to himself as he entered the Exchange Hall, stepping into the bustling marketplace where disciples bartered, traded, and occasionally argued over cultivation resources.

Most were here trying to scrape together enough materials for breakthroughs. Aaryan, however, was here to cash in.

He strolled past the counters, his hands resting lightly behind his head as he took in the scene. Disciples haggled over prices, some clutching precious herbs like they were lifelines. Others hovered around alchemists, desperate for pills that might push them past bottlenecks.

For most, this place was a battlefield of negotiations.

For Aaryan, it was his personal treasury.

He reached one of the trading counters and dropped a heavy pouch onto the table with a satisfying thud.

The attendant glanced up, barely paying attention—until he opened the pouch.

A brief silence followed.

Inside was a carefully sorted collection of frostroot, moonleaf, fire lotus petals, and even a few rare lightning-infused spirit herbs. These weren't scraps picked up by a struggling disciple—these were premium materials, enough to make any mid-level cultivator envious.

The attendant blinked. Then, his gaze flickered upward.

Recognition flashed in his eyes. His hands slowed slightly as he reached for the herbs, hesitation creeping into his movements.

"You're…" The man stopped himself, reconsidering his words. His expression shifted, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

Aaryan arched a brow. "Selling," he said casually, tapping the counter. "No enlightenment attached."

The attendant exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if dispelling an unwanted thought. He began weighing and inspecting the herbs, his fingers precise, his expression careful.

Aaryan smirked. That's right. No more riddles. Just business.

He glanced around as he waited, noticing the lingering stares from other disciples. Even now, whispers spread through the crowd.

"That's him, right?"

"Yeah. The Wise One—wait, no, I mean, the former Wise One."

"I heard he just… stopped giving wisdom?"

"Maybe he ascended past the need for speech."

"…Or maybe he scammed all of us and left."

Aaryan fought the urge to laugh. They were still trying to figure him out.

The old reverence was gone, but in its place was something else—caution. Some still saw him as a mystery, while others clearly suspected the truth but weren't sure how they had been fooled.

And that was fine by him. Confusion was better than devotion.

The attendant finished weighing the herbs and pushed forward a neatly counted pile of Essence Stones.

Aaryan took his payment without a word, pocketing the stones with an easy grin.

This… was exactly how things should be.

Let others struggle. Let others scheme.

He would enjoy the benefits of his suffering in peace.

Aaryan pocketed the last of his Essence Stones, already planning how to spend them, when a deep, resonating gong echoed through the Exchange Hall. Conversations faltered, transactions froze mid-count, and all eyes turned toward the entrance.

There, standing tall and composed, was Rudra, one of the Inner Sect's rising stars. His black-and-gold robes bore the insignia of the sect's elite, and his mere presence commanded attention.

"Attention, all disciples!" Rudra's voice carried easily over the crowd, calm yet commanding. "An opportunity has arisen. One that may never come again."

Aaryan, already half-exiting, slowed his steps. 'Oh?'

Rudra raised his hand, and from within his sleeve, he unfurled a sect decree, its golden lettering glinting under the hall's light. The official seal of the sect's higher-ups was stamped upon it—proof that this was no rumour but a sanctioned opportunity.

"A tomb has been discovered—one belonging to a cultivator of an era long past. Its origins are unknown, but the remnants of its formation still stand. This means treasures, techniques, and possibly an inheritance await within."

That was all it took.

The room erupted.

Disciples started talking over one another, voices blending into a chaotic storm of excitement, curiosity, and barely restrained greed.

"A tomb?!"

"Wait, like an actual ancient tomb? With real treasures?"

"Idiot, what other kind of tomb do you think he means? A decorative one?"

Rudra let the noise settle for a moment before continuing.

"It was found beyond the southern ridge. The barriers remain active, which confirms its origins—this is the resting place of a cultivator from an era long past. The formations are still intact, and the tomb's depths remain unexplored. What lies inside?" He let the question linger before adding, "Treasures, techniques, and possibly an inheritance."

The weight of those words slammed into the gathered disciples.

Aaryan remained still, but inwardly, his thoughts churned

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Most tombs crumbled, looted long ago. But if this one's defences still stood? Either no one breached it… or no one returned.

Around him, the room buzzed with excitement and greed.

"An inheritance?! If it's from an ancient cultivator, it could be beyond anything we've seen before!"

"Even if we don't get the main prize, scraps from the past are still priceless!"

"How do we get in? What's the restriction?"

Rudra didn't keep them waiting.

"The tomb's formations allow entry only to those below the 8th stage of Anima."

Another wave of reactions.

" Wait, does this mean even the elders are locked out?"

"Then this is our chance! We actually have a shot at something big!"

"A 'shot'? You think this will be fair? The strongest disciples will still take whatever they want!"

Aaryan's eyes flickered with interest. No elders sweeping in at the last moment? That meant one thing—pure, undiluted chaos.

Then came the final announcement.

"The sect will be organizing an official expedition. Inner disciples will take the lead, and outer disciples may accompany them. We leave in Five days."

The excitement shifted—still present but tinged with tension.

"Of course. We're just there to carry their bags."

" Hah. Figures. We dig through traps, they walk in and claim the prize."

"Still… if we play this right, we could get something valuable."

"Five days… that's not a lot of time to prepare."

Aaryan smirked slightly. The sect wouldn't outright say it, but the hierarchy was clear. Inner disciples would claim the best rewards. Outer disciples? They would get the leftovers—if they were lucky.

He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

He didn't need an inheritance. But a forgotten tomb, powerful techniques, and an unrestricted battlefield? Now that was interesting.

He smirked to himself, already imagining the chaos that was about to unfold.

And just like that, his short-lived peace came to an end.

Aaryan sat cross-legged on the floor of his cave, absently tossing an Essence Stone in the air. The soft glow of the stone flickered with each catch, illuminating the quiet space.

He should have just gone to sleep.

Ignored the stupid tomb. Ignored the inevitable bloodbath. Ignored the itch in his head that wouldn't let it go

Instead, here he was—wide awake, staring at the ceiling, and overanalysing everything like an idiot.

"An untouched tomb, ancient techniques, forgotten relics…" He clicked his tongue. "Yeah. Sounds like the perfect place to die."

It wasn't hard to predict how things would play out. Every desperate disciple in the sect would charge in, hoping for a miracle. The stronger ones would crush the weaker ones, and the smartest ones—the real threats—would wait. Let others do the work. Let others take the risks. Then, when the moment was right, they'd take everything.

Aaryan sighed, rubbing his temple. And where did that leave him?

He didn't need this. Not really. He had more than enough Essence Stones to cultivate peacefully for a while. He could stay out of it, let the fools fight over scraps while he quietly advanced.

It was the smart choice.

The safe choice.

So why wasn't he convinced?

He leaned his head back against the stone wall, staring up at the dim glow of the cave's ceiling.

"Just ignore it," he muttered. "Stay out of it. Let the crazy people kill each other."

His words sounded reasonable. Logical.

And yet, the itch in the back of his mind didn't fade.

His eyes flicked toward the bag resting against the far wall.

Inside, he could feel the faint pulse of the egg—a slow, steady rhythm, like the heartbeat of something waiting.

A tomb. A dragon's egg.

Aaryan scowled.

"…I really hate how this feels like foreshadowing."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

Staying out of it made sense. It really did. But something about this—about a tomb that had lasted through the ages, about something strong enough to survive even in death—nagged at him.

He didn't need the treasures. He didn't need the inheritance.

But he did need to know.

And that was the problem.

Aaryan had barely stepped out of his cave when a disciple approached him, arms crossed and clearly impatient.

"You. Overseer Dharun wants to see you."

Aaryan blinked. "Now?"

"Did I stutter?" The disciple didn't wait for a response before walking off.

Aaryan rubbed his temple. It was too early for this nonsense. He had planned to visit the Exchange Hall, maybe find another side hustle, and most importantly—not get involved in anything that smelled of trouble.

Yet here he was.

By the time he reached the secluded courtyard, Dharun was already there, seated comfortably at a stone table, sipping tea like a man with no urgent responsibilities. A second cup sat untouched across from him.

Aaryan stopped a few paces away. "You called?"

Dharun didn't even look up. "Sit."

Aaryan didn't move.

Dharun sighed. "Do you think I'd waste my time dragging you here just to kill you?"

"I think it'd be an efficient use of your time," Aaryan shot back. "You're a busy man."

Dharun let out a short chuckle. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't go through the trouble of inviting you to tea first." He took another sip. "Well… unless I felt like adding dramatic flair. But today? No."

Aaryan reluctantly sat. He'd learned that refusing Dharun outright was usually a losing battle.

The silence stretched between them as Dharun took his time with his drink. Aaryan tapped a finger against the table. "So? What's this about?"

Dharun finally set his cup down. "What do you think about the tomb?"

Aaryan exhaled sharply. "You're wasting your time, Overseer. There are dozens of idiots eager to throw themselves into a death trap. You don't need me."

Dharun merely smiled, as if Aaryan had just proven a point rather than deflected one. "I think it sounds like a great way to get stabbed in the back."

Dharun hummed. "A fair assessment. People will kill each other over mere rumours of treasure, let alone an actual tomb filled with inheritances."

Aaryan gestured vaguely. "Exactly. That's why I'm staying out of it."

Dharun tilted his head, watching him with mild amusement. "Ah. So you're content, then? You have everything you need?"

Aaryan narrowed his eyes. "What are you getting at?"

Dharun leaned forward, voice calm, almost casual. "It's just… I was under the impression that you weren't the type to let opportunities slip by. That you were smart enough to know when something is worth the risk."

Dharun continued smoothly. "But I understand. Safety is important. Not everyone is suited for such things. The tomb will still be there when you're stronger. If, of course, someone else hasn't already taken what should have been yours."

Aaryan's eyebrow twitched.

Why did this sound like an insult?

Dharun sighed dramatically, standing up. "Well, no need to drag this out. I'll be leading the expedition, so I should prepare." He glanced at Aaryan. " Pity, though. I've seen this happen before—some let fear decide for them, only to regret it when they're watching from the sidelines. But, as you said—far too dangerous."

Aaryan clenched his jaw. That bastard.

He adjusted his sleeves, taking his time as if the conversation was already forgotten. Then, just as he turned to leave, he paused—just for a moment.

A slow, knowing smirk curled at the corner of his lips. "Ah… almost forgot. If you do change your mind, don't take too long. You wouldn't want to arrive after all the good things are gone."

And with that, he walked off, leaving Aaryan staring at his back, jaw clenched.

As he reached the courtyard's edge, he ran a hand down his sleeve, unhurried, like someone wiping away the remnants of an inconsequential exchange.

Aaryan wasn't stupid.

He hated how effective this was.

His fingers curled into a fist beneath the table before he forced them to relax. He wasn't going to let a few well-placed words push him into something reckless. And yet, the seed had been planted.

Aaryan remained seated long after Dharun had left, staring at the untouched cup of tea across from him.

The bastard was good. Too good.

He had walked into this conversation fully intent on refusing—on brushing off whatever half-baited trap Dharun had laid out for him. And yet, here he was, still turning the words over in his mind, letting them burrow in deeper than they had any right to.

A sigh escaped him, sharp and edged with frustration.

He knew exactly what this was. Dharun hadn't forced him. He hadn't ordered or threatened him. Instead, he had done something worse—he had left the choice in Aaryan's hands.

And that was the problem.

If it were a command, he could reject it on principle. If it were a threat, he could push back out of defiance. But this? This was something else entirely.

Because now, the only person responsible for whatever decision he made… was himself.

Aaryan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Fine. He could admit it—Dharun had played him well. But that didn't mean he had to act on it.

Except…

Could he really afford to ignore this?

He could still hear Dharun's parting words, light and casual, but razor-sharp beneath the surface.

"The tomb will still be there when you're stronger. If, of course, someone else hasn't already taken what should have been yours."

His breath came out in a slow exhale, the weight of realization settling in.

What should have been his.

The phrasing was deliberate. Dharun had framed it as though it were a certainty, something already owed to him—something he'd be losing rather than gaining.

And it was working.

Because deep down, beyond all the scepticism and caution, Aaryan knew one thing for certain.

He hated being left behind.

He had spent too much of his life watching opportunities slip through his fingers, watching stronger people claim what weaker ones could not. And now? He had the means. The strength, the skill—no, not enough, not yet.

If he went into that tomb as he was now, he would just be another body among the corpses.

His hand curled into a fist before he forced it to relax.

No. If he did this, it would be on his terms. Not because Dharun had led him by the nose, not because of some cheap taunt wrapped in silk.

If he was going to gamble, he needed to stack the odds in his favour first.

His resources weren't limitless, but they were enough. He had gathered, claimed, and fought for everything in his possession—if there was ever a time to use them, it was now.

Strength was the only thing that could determine what happened next.

Aaryan pushed himself to his feet, already turning toward his cave. His steps were steady, but his mind still whispered warnings. It didn't matter. He had made his decision.

Breakthrough first.

Everything else could wait.

And just like that, trouble had found him again.

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