Chapter Eight: The Library of Hidden Scriptures

After the dishes were served, Chen Yi and the plump youth began to eat ravenously. Not until his fourth bowl did Chen Yi finally feel the gnawing hunger inside him begin to fade. Meanwhile, his companion, who had finished long ago, could only click his tongue in secret, startled by Chen Yi’s astonishing appetite. Among their peers, a single bowl was usually enough; even he, with a larger appetite than most, rarely ate more than two or three bowls at a meal. He had never expected Chen Yi—whose usual intake was less than a bowl—to eat four full servings today. The surprise left him at a loss for words.

Chen Yi, however, understood the reason for his increased hunger. His cultivation had advanced too rapidly—just yesterday, he had broken through to the third level of Qi Refinement, and unexpectedly, this morning he had reached the fourth. His body’s cells now craved energy, and that energy was spiritual essence. The food served in the dining hall contained traces of spiritual energy, and it was this that Chen Yi sought in his meal. Yet as the spiritual essence in the food was meager, it took four bowls to satisfy his needs.

Having eaten and drunk his fill, Chen Yi decided to visit the Scripture Pavilion to select a powerful martial technique. His recent battle with Wang Hu and the others had left him not only aware of his strengths, but also of his shortcomings. He possessed only a basic fist technique—the Five Elements Fist. Though he had mastered it to a remarkable degree, as his cultivation advanced, even his mastery of this art could no longer fully unleash his potential. If he were to face stronger opponents in the future and found himself unable to fight at his full strength, it could prove perilous.

“Fatty, I’m planning to head to the Scripture Pavilion to pick out a martial technique. Want to come with me?” Chen Yi asked.

“I haven’t perfected my current technique yet, so I’ll pass. I plan to go into seclusion for a breakthrough. With the spirit stones you gave me and the pills I’ve saved, I should succeed. If not, I won’t come out until I do,” replied the plump youth, his confidence unwavering.

Seeing his friend’s resolve to cultivate and make a breakthrough, so unlike his old lazy self, Chen Yi felt genuinely happy for him and believed this time he would succeed.

Since Fatty wouldn’t be joining him, Chen Yi set off alone toward the Scripture Pavilion. When he arrived, he found himself standing before an ancient, solemn tower. The pavilion had nine stories and was made of some unknown material, exuding an aura of gravity and grandeur—seamlessly natural, with no hint of craftsmanship. Ancient script emblazoned the words “Scripture Pavilion” above the entrance.

Fatty had once told him that the pavilion itself was a rare treasure. Though it had no offensive capabilities, it could store countless tomes and scriptures. Despite its unassuming appearance, the Scripture Pavilion was vital to the sect, its very foundation. The sect had erected a massive protective array around it, capable of trapping even cultivators at the Great Ascension stage and below. Moreover, a semi-immortal patriarch presided within as a guardian.

As Chen Yi entered, he noticed no one guarding the pavilion, but he clearly felt a powerful divine sense sweep over him, probing as though seeing through every secret he possessed. He understood this to be the semi-immortal patriarch’s divine perception. The lack of physical guards was accounted for by the presence of this mighty overseer.

The first floor of the Scripture Pavilion housed all the techniques and spells collected for Qi Refinement disciples, along with martial arts suitable for those below the seventh level. There were at least ten thousand martial techniques. Although these arts were ordinary within the Five Elements Sect, in the mortal world any one of them would be considered a peerless martial secret, sure to incite deadly battles. Yet here, they were the most basic of skills.

What truly mattered in the Five Elements Sect were cultivation methods and spells, for disciples above the Qi Refinement stage relied primarily on their magical arts, and so lesser martial techniques were of little consequence.

Chen Yi wandered between rows of shelves, discovering that each was carved from white jade, and each shelf was divided into eighty-one compartments, each containing a jade slip. Protective barriers enclosed every compartment, and on each shimmering screen appeared a brief description of the book inside. To obtain any of these techniques, a cultivator was required to make a heart-demon oath—a binding vow enforced by heavenly law, forbidding the transmission of any scripture acquired from the pavilion. Violation meant suffering the torment of one’s own inner demon, ending in eternal damnation.

Once such a vow was made, the oath would be recorded by the heavens. Should the cultivator break it, during their next tribulation, demonic forces would descend upon them, and they would be destroyed utterly, their soul scattered. Thus, few cultivators ever dared violate such a vow.

The sect imposed these oaths to ensure the scriptures within the pavilion remained secret, for they were the sect’s greatest treasures and the foundation of its legacy.

Chen Yi shook his head, dispelling stray thoughts, and turned his attention to the glowing screen before him. Upon it appeared ancient script that, mysteriously, could be understood by anyone, regardless of their learning. It described the “Pure Origin Art,” a foundational Qi Refinement technique that included the “Spiritual Vortex Visualization.” By visualizing a vortex of spiritual energy, one could draw external essence into the body and condense pure origin true energy. This energy was without elemental attribute, allowing future cultivation of any other art.

Though tempted by this technique, Chen Yi passed it by. He already possessed a superior method: the Five Elements Formula, the sect’s core foundation art. This method could be cultivated to the Celestial Immortal realm, and the sect’s founder had once ascended to immortality by relying on it alone. Who could say what heights he had reached after three thousand years?

Continuing his search, Chen Yi soon discovered a sword technique that set his heart racing: the “Splitting Light Sword Art.” Comprised of thirty-six forms, at minor mastery one sword became three, at major mastery one sword became six, and at perfection, one sword became nine. Illusion could be made real, and the power was limitless.

Besides a weapon art, Chen Yi desired a palm technique and a movement art. For palm technique he chose the “Thunderclap Palm,” renowned for its speed and power; when mastered, each strike would resound with nine peals of thunder. For movement, he selected the “Golden Swallow Steps,” a footwork inspired by the flight of the golden swallow, as observed by a sect elder in ages past.

Standing before the shelf with the “Splitting Light Sword Art,” Chen Yi reached for the jade slip, made his heart-demon oath, and immediately a beam of white light shot from the slip into his mind, forming an ethereal volume he could consult at any time.

In an instant, his hand left the jade slip, which remained on the shelf, unmoved. Yet the complete contents of the “Splitting Light Sword Art” now resided within his mind—a marvel of the Scripture Pavilion’s magic. It could create a copy of any jade slip and transfer it directly into one’s memory, granting the inheritance without ever removing the original from its place.