In the momentary gap it took Yang Qing to register what he had been asked and why Tang Xiadan had suddenly brought up the matter of the Treasure Coin Palace, Tang Xiadan gently pulled at the Soulfrost Sequoia on his chest, which, from the gentlest of tugs, popped out like a bead of sweat dripping from skin.

Tang Xiadan couldn’t help but smile wryly at how easily the flower had dislodged itself. Had he dared try that before the flower had its fill of Yang Qing’s flame, it wouldn’t have budged an inch even with every ounce of his strength behind it. And if it had moved at all, it would not have been with anything close to the ease he felt now. The pain alone would have been so unimaginable that he’d likely have passed out before a single root of the Soulfrost Sequoia left his body, to say nothing of the damage it would have caused.

Pulling it out before it bloomed was no different from pulling out his own soul, given how intertwined the two had become, with the flower’s roots embedded in both his soul and body.

After removing the flower, Tang Xiadan carefully wrapped it in an aged cloth that had clearly seen better days. It was faded white, with grey smudges along its edges that suggested it had likely once been entirely grey.

But as with most things, how something looked externally was hardly ever a true representation of its worth. The fact that Tang Xiadan dared to use it to wrap the bloomed Soulfrost Sequoia already made it clear it was unlikely to be a simple item.

As indeed it wasn’t. The moment the flower made contact with the cloth, it lit up in a cyan aura as countless complex runes appeared across its surface. As soon as those runes appeared, it was as though a black hole had opened up and swallowed the entire aura and effects of the Soulfrost Sequoia whole, along with the flower itself. Its entire presence and influence vanished, and the cloth returned to its unassuming state.

Tang Xiadan then stored the wrapped flower in what looked like a bamboo urn, which, just like the cloth, was covered from top to bottom in countless black and grey scripts and runes. There were no sudden bursts of light, no powerful aura, as the wrapped Soulfrost Sequoia was placed inside.

All of this took no more than four seconds, which gave Yang Qing ample time to formulate his reply after running through countless scenarios of why Tang Xiadan had asked him if he knew of the Treasure Coin Palace.

Given that the person asking him that was someone who had shown quite the talent for digging up ruins and places tied to ancient and powerful lineages, it was safe to say Yang Qing was a little excited by the prospect of why Tang Xiadan had brought the matter up.

It’s a lie. Actually, he was very excited.

Of course he knew of the Treasure Coin Palace. Everybody in the entire continent likely knew of the Treasure Coin Palace. You could grab a random dog at some backwater village, ask if it had heard of the Treasure Coin Palace, and it would bark and wag its tail at the name before probably taking a bite at you or peeing on your leg in protest, in disdain, in sheer offence at being asked something so obvious.

How could anyone not know of the Treasure Coin Palace?

Nine out of ten adventurers and explorers going into that line of work had been influenced by it. And how could they not be, when this concerned what was arguably the wealthiest organization in the entire world? Not just the continent. The entire world. Though perhaps that assumption was the Southern Continent blowing its own horn, even so, just the title of Wealthiest Organization in the whole Southern Continent was already something worthy of considerable praise.

And given that the Southern Continent was arguably considered one of the richest among the five continents, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to imagine that the richest organization in one of the richest continents could lay claim to being the richest in the entire world.

If one wanted to understand just how rich the Treasure Coin Palace was, one only needed to look at the White Rose Pavilion.

Yang Qing was a dreamer. He liked to daydream. A lot. When your life is filled with nothing but pitfalls, traps, and a never-ending stream of hardships, daydreaming becomes your refuge. It becomes your sanctuary. An anchor of sorts for your sanity, and at times, a driving force for your desire to live and keep going.

He was plenty petty and vindictive, but petty and vindictive can only get you so far. The key to living and enjoying life in the stomach of a beast that was slowly digesting you( deliberately so at that pace) was to allow your mind to drift to the endless wonder of the what-ifs as you were being slowly digested.

It was the pursuit of that endless wonder that had led to Yang Qing’s love of history and digging up tales of the past.

What was it like back then? Could I have made friends with a dragon? Hehe, if I had, Old Lei, your regular wake-up call would be a casual dragon roar every now and then. That ought to get a reaction from that serious fixed face of yours. What if I befriended a phoenix? How would meat barbecued over a phoenix’s flame of rebirth taste? What about a Kunpeng? Given that they’re kings of both water and air, surely befriending one would mean access to rare ingredients from the most unreachable places on the ocean floor. Maybe even the stars are hiding some nice ingredients.

Safe to say, food was one of the primary motivations guiding that sense of wonder. And when it wasn’t food, Yang Qing’s next great love would take the front line. He’d wonder what it would be like to discuss the Dao with mythical races and ancient lineages. He’d wonder what cultivation had been like back then. What it meant to pave the path and lay the foundation for what it looked like today.