145: Chapter 144 Treasure Hunting in a Dilapidated Building

His Disciples were gone; no one was there to collect his body, no one to build his tomb, and no one to burn paper offerings for him.

Leaving this sword here would only result in it rusting, rotting, and turning into a pile of scrap metal.

It would be better to take it out and let it shine in the world.

Lin Feng bowed once more and turned to leave.

He walked out of the room, past those murals, past those torches, and out through that stone door.

Outside was still that same desert—dusty and lifeless.

But the way Lin Feng looked at it had changed.

It wasn't just a desert; it was a Daoist training ground.

It was the training ground where that person cultivated, where that person preached the Dao, and where that person waited for death.

Standing at the entrance, he glanced back at the characters on the lintel.

He still didn't recognize them, but he could sense their meaning now—'Taixu Dojo'.

He turned around and walked into the distance.

The desert was vast, and the training ground was equally immense.

He still had a long way to walk and many places to see.

Perhaps he could find more things—perhaps he could find the Cultivation Technique left behind by that person, perhaps the Medicinal Pills that person refined, or perhaps the Spiritual Plants that person grew.

Or perhaps he would find nothing at all.

But it didn't matter.

To be able to enter the training ground of an Ancient Qi Refiner, to see his murals, to touch his sword, and to offer a bow—that was already enough.

He set off, heading deeper into the desert.

The wind blew from the west, tossing his hair.

He did not look back.

...

Lin Feng left that stone door and continued deeper into the desert.

The wind blew from the west, carrying grains of sand that stung his face. He squinted and pulled his collar up.

After walking for about half an hour, a cluster of buildings appeared on the horizon.

It wasn't just a single gate, but a group of buildings of various heights and sizes, resembling a small town.

He quickened his pace.

The buildings drew closer and larger, their silhouettes becoming clearer.

It wasn't a small town, but a complex of structures.

There were halls, pavilions, terraces, and corridors.

With blue bricks and gray tiles, Upturned Eaves and Bracket Sets, the style was ancient.

But those buildings were very old—so old they were practically falling apart.

Half of the walls had collapsed, tiles were shattered across the ground, and pillars leaned precariously to support roofs that could cave in at any moment.

Some buildings had completely collapsed, leaving only piles of broken bricks and tiles overgrown with withered grass.

The withered grass swayed in the wind, making a rustling sound.

Lin Feng stood before the complex, looking up at the nearest hall.

The hall was tall, at least a dozen meters high, but a large section of the roof had caved in, exposing the beams inside.

The beams were made of wood and were very thick—thicker than his waist—but they were rotten and blackened, like charred bones.

The walls were built of blue bricks, with withered yellow grass growing from the gaps between them that crumbled at a touch.

The doors were wooden, tall and wide, but they were mostly rotted away. Only half a door remained, hanging crookedly from the frame and creaking whenever the wind blew.

A plaque hung above the lintel, also rotted and with only half remaining, carved with several characters.

They were in seal script, all curvy and winding; he didn't recognize a single word.

He stepped over the threshold and walked inside.

The hall was very dark, with only a few rays of light leaking through the broken roof to illuminate the floor and walls.

The floor was paved with stone slabs, many of which were broken, with grass growing in the cracks.

There were murals on the walls, but they were so blurred they were unrecognizable, leaving only patches of mottled color.

Deep within the hall was a divine statue, tall and large, but it had collapsed, leaving only half a torso.

The statue's head had fallen to the ground and rolled into a corner, face down, making its features invisible.

Lin Feng stood in the center of the hall and looked around.

It was empty; there was nothing.

No tables, no chairs, no incense burners, no meditation mats.

Only broken bricks, rotten tiles, withered grass, and that collapsed statue.

He stood for a moment, then turned to leave.

He walked to the second building.

This was a pavilion, shorter than the hall but more exquisite.

The roof was in the Xieshan Style, with eaves curving upward like the wings of a bird.

However, most of the tiles were shattered, and the corners of the eaves were broken, drooping crookedly.

The walls were made of blue brick but were coated in a layer of white lime. Colorful paintings had been done on the lime, but they had faded, leaving only faint traces.

The door was wooden and carved with flowers, but the designs were blurred, making it impossible to tell what flowers they were.

He pushed the door open, and the hinges let out a groan as if they were about to break.

Walking inside, it was brighter than the hall because the windows were still there; although they had several holes, light could shine through.

The floor was covered with wooden planks that were quite rotten, creaking under his feet like he was walking on ice.

The pavilion had two floors with a wooden staircase that was very steep and narrow, with several broken railings.

He climbed the stairs, taking every step cautiously for fear of breaking through.

The second floor was much smaller than the first, consisting of only one room.

In the room were a table, a chair, and a bookshelf.

The table was wooden, with one broken leg, leaning to the side.

The chair was also wooden, its backrest broken, leaving only the seat.

The bookshelf was still there, but the books were gone; it was empty except for a few scraps of paper.

He picked up a scrap of paper; it was very brittle and crumbled at a touch, the characters on it no longer legible.

He put down the scrap of paper and turned to go downstairs.

Behind the pavilion were a few more rooms—side rooms that were smaller and more dilapidated.

Some had collapsed, some were leaning, and some had only a single wall remaining.

He checked them one by one, but there was nothing.

No beds, no cabinets, no boxes—not even a scrap of cloth.

He walked out of the pavilion and continued forward.

Ahead was a pavilion—a hexagonal one with a rounded top like an umbrella.

But the top had collapsed and the pillars were crooked. The stone table and chairs inside were still there, but the table was cracked and one of the chairs was missing a corner.

Next to the pavilion was a well. The mouth of the well was round and large, with a stone rim that was very smooth.

He walked to the edge of the well and looked down.

The well was very deep and pitch black; he couldn't see anything.

He picked up a stone and threw it down.

The stone fell, and it took several seconds before a sound was heard.

Plop—the sound of water.

There was still water.

He stood up and continued forward.

Ahead was a corridor, long and winding, connecting several buildings.

A large section of the corridor's roof had collapsed and many pillars were crooked, but the original layout could still be seen.

He walked along the corridor, passing one building after another.

There were halls, pavilions, terraces, and side rooms—all much the same, all collapsed, all empty.

Nothing at all.

He walked for nearly an hour, inspecting dozens of buildings.

He found nothing—no Cultivation Techniques, no Medicinal Pills, no Magic Treasures.

Only broken bricks, rotten tiles, withered grass, and those collapsed statues.

He stopped and stood in front of a collapsed hall, taking a breath.

He wasn't particularly tired, just a bit disappointed.

In such a large training ground, not even a single hair was left behind.

He looked up to see if there were any buildings he hadn't checked yet.

There were more ahead, and a few further off that were even more dilapidated and smaller—looking like woodsheds or storage rooms.

He hesitated for a moment but decided to walk over anyway.

He was already here; those few extra steps wouldn't hurt.

He walked up to a small house.

The house was tiny, much smaller than the previous halls, resembling an ordinary family's woodshed.

The walls were made of adobe rather than blue brick, and they were even more dilapidated and old, with several cracks running through them.

The roof had been thatched, but the straw was long gone, leaving only a few rotten pieces of wood.

The door was wooden, very narrow and low; he had to lower his head to enter.

He pushed the door, and the door panel nearly fell off.

Walking inside, it was very dark, with only a few rays of light filtering through the cracks in the walls.

He raised his left hand, and a ball of soft white light lit up in his palm.

Illumination Spell.

The light orb floated above his head, illuminating the entire room.

The room wasn't large; he could see everything at a glance.

Piles of junk lay on the floor—broken baskets, rotten mats, and shattered tile fragments.

Something was standing in the corner.

It was a furnace, very tall—almost reaching the roof—and very thick, requiring two people to encircle it with their arms.

The furnace was made of bronze and covered in green rust, but its original shape was still visible.

Patterns were carved onto the body of the furnace: clouds, cranes, mountains, and water.

The lid was round, with a beast crouching on top. The beast looked strange—like a lion yet also like a tiger—holding a pearl in its mouth.

The furnace had three legs in the shape of beast claws, with the tips touching the ground.

Lin Feng saw at a glance that this was a great treasure and was just about to take it when suddenly, the sound of monkey chatter rang out!