Li Qiye straightened, the lingering weight of travel and grief settling heavily behind his eyes.
"Shi Tong," he said. His voice was calm—steady—but it carried an authority that had not been there before.
Shi Tong stiffened at once. "This subordinate listens."
"Summon all remaining **clan elders and senior members** within the estate," Li Qiye ordered. "Inform them of my return. Tell them there is an urgent matter that cannot be delayed."
He paused, then added evenly, "No rumors. No speculation. Only that I have returned—and that they are to gather here."
Both guards bowed deeply.
"Yes, Young Lord!" Shi Tong replied without hesitation.
He asked no questions and wasted no time.
Shi Tong turned immediately, leaping back onto the pavilion roof before vanishing into the inner grounds with practiced speed. The second guard moved in the opposite direction, already relaying the order through the estate.
The courtyard fell quiet once more.
Only the faint ripple of water in the pond remained.
Li Qiye released a slow breath, his gaze dropping briefly to the stone tiles beneath his feet. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were firm.
"It begins now," he murmured.
Beside him, Elder Lianhua stood unmoving, her expression unreadable—yet the air itself seemed to listen.
The flower petals upon the pond drifted into a slow, deliberate circle, as though the courtyard sensed that the Li clan's long silence was finally about to break.
Elder Lianhua stepped forward.
"Earlier," she said calmly, "you mentioned that the **head of the Li clan** was trapped within the treasury. Is that correct?"
Li Qiye's chest tightened. He nodded at once.
"Yes," he answered. "The treasury formation remained active. No one could enter… and Father never came out."
Elder Lianhua did not respond immediately.
Her gaze did not merely *shift*—it **extended**, passing effortlessly through walls, courtyards, and layers of concealment, as though distance held no meaning. The air around her grew faintly colder.
"There is no life force," she said at last, her tone flat and emotionless. "None within the formation."
Li Qiye's fingers clenched.
"Then…" His voice caught. He forced it steady. "Then Father is—"
"Most likely long dead," Elder Lianhua finished. Not unkindly, but without softness. "The formation was never meant to preserve life. Only to protect what remained."
She raised her hand.
Two fingers extended.
With a casual, sideways motion—like brushing aside a strand of silk—she **cut through the air**.
There was no explosion.
No flare of light.
Only a soundless **tear**.
The illusionary formation shuddered, then collapsed completely. Layers of distortion peeled away like shattered glass dissolving into nothingness.
The world **clarified**.
Where empty space had once existed, a building now stood revealed.
A modest structure of dark wood, aged yet carefully maintained. No grand aura. No extravagant defenses. Only a quiet, solemn presence.
Above its entrance hung a simple plaque, its characters carved deep and unwavering:
**Li Clan Treasury**
It stood in absolute silence.
Li Qiye stared, breath caught in his chest.
Elder Lianhua stepped toward it.
"Come," she said. "Let us go."
Li Qiye swallowed hard, forcing his legs to move.
"Yes… yes," he replied quietly.
Together they approached—one bearing centuries of cultivation and authority, the other carrying the weight of a fallen clan head and a truth he had not yet fully faced.
The door loomed before them.
Elder Lianhua raised her hand.
She did not strike.
She simply rested her **palm** against the treasury door.
A faint flicker of qi flowed from her hand into the wood—quiet, controlled, almost gentle.
Then—
**BOOM.**
The door blasted inward as if struck by an invisible mountain. Wood shattered. Iron hinges screamed. A shockwave ripped through the courtyard, sending dust and debris rolling outward.
Li Qiye raised an arm instinctively, his robes snapping violently in the sudden wind.
When the dust finally settled, the interior was revealed.
Silence followed.
The **treasury was empty**.
Every shelf—bare.
Every rack—stripped clean.
Every storage slot—nothing but dust and faint scratches where treasures had once rested.
Not a single spirit stone.
Not a fragment.
Not even lingering residue strong enough to remain.
Li Qiye's breath faltered.
His eyes swept across the hollow space, disbelief tightening into a crushing ache within his chest. This place—once the heart of the Li clan's accumulated wealth, generations of preparation and power—was now nothing more than an **emptied shell**.
His fingers curled slowly.
So this is what was left…
Elder Lianhua stepped inside without hesitation, her footsteps soundless against the stone floor. Li Qiye followed, his gaze lingering on the vacant shelves as though expecting—hoping—for *something* to remain.
But there was nothing.
As they moved deeper, Elder Lianhua's eyes shifted toward the far corner.
There—
Behind where several shelves had once stood, an opening was revealed. The shelving had been forcibly moved aside, exposing a **hidden passage** carved cleanly into the stone wall.
Li Qiye's breath grew shallow.
"That…" he murmured. "That leads to the inner vault."
A place only the clan head could access.
Elder Lianhua halted before the opening, her expression unreadable.
"So even that was breached," she said quietly.
The air beyond the passage felt cold.
Still.
As though whatever had passed through had taken **everything**—and left nothing behind.
Without another word, Elder Lianhua stepped into the passage.
Li Qiye followed closely.
The corridor sloped downward, carved from solid stone. Faint, ancient formation lines etched into the walls lay dull and inactive. Their footsteps echoed softly as they descended the narrow stairway, each step carrying them farther from the light above.
The air grew colder.
Heavier.
At last, the stairs ended.
Before them stood a **towering black iron door**, its surface etched with deep, complex runes meant to resist force, time, and spiritual intrusion.
This was the **Inner Vault**.
The door stood **wide open**.
That alone was wrong.
And then Li Qiye saw it.
A body lay sprawled before the threshold.
Motionless.
Lifeless.
Time seemed to stop.
Li Qiye's steps faltered, his breath catching sharply as his vision narrowed to the figure on the cold stone floor—the familiar robes, torn and darkened with dried blood.
"Father…" The word barely escaped his lips.
The **Li clan head** lay where he had fallen, one arm outstretched toward the open vault, as if he had tried—one final time—to protect what lay beyond.
Or to stop something from taking it.
Elder Lianhua halted beside the body, her gaze lowering.
The air around her stilled completely.
No qi lingered.
No life force remained.
Only the faint, fading imprint of a cultivator who had exhausted **everything** he possessed.
Li Qiye stood frozen, his chest tight, a crushing weight pressing down upon him.
The final truth lay before him.
The clan head had never been trapped.
He had **fallen guarding the vault**.