Chapter 70

Chapter 70: The Treasure Is Me

Eyes brightened around the hall. No one spoke, but glances passed like sparks.

Young cultivators were easy to stir up. Even though Song Wan Ning had lived for more than 100 years, to these old foxes she was still “a junior”—someone they could pressure, coax, and corner.

“Family Head Song, stop hiding it. Hurry up and take the treasure out so we can see!”

Necks craned. Faces leaned forward. Everyone wanted to know what kind of treasure could cause such a terrifying commotion.

If the Song Family truly possessed something that could control another person’s mind—if they could bend wills and use people as they pleased—then the entire north would tilt.

For now, it was all guesswork. Greed did the rest.

Song Qing Yun watched their undisguised hunger and felt his patience fray thread by thread. If he didn’t need to keep up appearances, he would’ve already had them thrown out.

He shot Song Wan Ning a look that was half helpless, half amused. “Wan Ning. Since everyone insists, take it out and let them have a look.”

“Oh?” someone said sharply. “So the treasure is on True Lord Song?”

“No wonder,” another murmured. “The moment True Lord Song returned to the Song Family, all this happened. Seems you found a fortuitous chance, True Lord Song?”

Probing gazes swept over her from every angle, bright with calculation.

The Cultivation World had long held an unspoken rule: do not pry into another person’s opportunities. Everyone had secrets. Everyone had blood on their hands. Everyone understood.

These elders understood it best—and still, they pushed.

Song Wan Ning smiled faintly, brushed back her hair, and looked at them the way one might look at monkeys making faces behind a cage.

“All right,” she said, voice light. “I’ll show you.”

The hall went still.

“That treasure is far away in the sky,” she continued, “yet right in front of your eyes.”

She beamed, then lifted a finger and pointed—directly at her own face.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then confusion cracked across the crowd.

“True Lord Song… what do you mean?”

“Where’s the treasure?”

Song Wan Ning made a thoughtful little sound, blinked her wide, innocent eyes, and said, “I’m the treasure.”

“Pfft—”

Someone burst out laughing. “True Lord Song, you’re hilarious.”

“True Lord Song, are you toying with us?” another demanded, face darkening. “If you don’t want to show it, just say so. Why make fools of us?”

Only then did the room truly catch up to the insult. Expressions turned ugly.

Song Wan Ning was playing with them.

“Tsk. You’ve got it wrong,” she said lazily. “This lord hasn’t lied.”

She leaned back in the seat of honor, crossed her legs at her leisure, and smiled as if she were merely watching a lively show. “Since you won’t believe me… fine. I’ll let you see for yourselves.”

The men choked on their anger.

This Song Family junior had no manners at all. Even with deep cultivation, how could she treat elders like this?

No one took her words seriously.

Then a halo of light exploded outward from the seat of honor—too fast for the eye to catch, too sharp for the heart to ignore.

In the instant it spread, an overwhelming force descended like a mountain. It wrapped around the hall, seized every breath, and tightened.

Horror flashed across faces.

Bodies moved against their will.

“Thud!”

Knees hit the ground in unison—row after row, perfectly aligned, as if a single invisible hand had pressed them down.

Their minds went blank. They hadn’t even had time to resist. Their bodies obeyed first.

Song Qing Yun nearly laughed out loud. He coughed, forced himself into a dignified expression, and quietly pulled out an Image-Recording Stone, recording the entire ridiculous scene so he could show Madam later.

Song Wan Ning sat calmly in the main seat, watching the line of kneeling elders as if they were decorations. She clicked her tongue, expression serene.

“See?” she said at last. “I told you long ago. You just wouldn’t believe me.”

She tilted her head, voice sweet enough to sting. “Now you’ve made such a scene—how embarrassing.”

She made no move to put away the Sword Dao True Mirror.

Faces flushed red with fury, with shame, with something that looked dangerously like fear. Sweat beaded at temples. Spiritual power churned as they tried to break free—yet not one of them could stand.

Their eyes shrank.

So the commotion in the city really had been Song Wan Ning.

And this pressure… this pressure was even worse.

How?

Song Wan Ning had been famous across north and south as an alchemy grandmaster. Her combat strength, however, had rarely been displayed, and people had grown careless.

Who would’ve thought she was this terrifying?

The Song Family had hidden their depths too well.

Only when their expressions twisted to the point of losing control did Song Wan Ning finally retract the Sword Dao True Mirror, as casually as if she were closing a fan.

The sudden release made their legs go weak. They rose shakily, humiliated and furious, but with no ground to stand on—because they were the ones who had demanded she “show it.”

For a moment, the atmosphere in the hall turned sharp and strange.

In the end, Song Qing Yun stepped forward, smoothing things over with a few easy words, and personally sent the guests away.

“Hahaha!”

The moment the last back disappeared, Song Qing Yun’s laughter finally broke free, deep and satisfied.

“Wan Ning really has a way with people,” he said, eyes bright. “Those old fools deserved to be angered to death.”

If they wanted to wear ugly faces, then they could wear them on their knees.

And if they dared make Wan Ning unhappy, no one else should expect comfort either.

—