Having heard Mo Yunyi's tales of the "Xuanyuan Bloodline," Ji Changkong felt no surge of excitement. The legend of "Xuanyuan" seemed too distant, and he still believed the most reliable path was diligently testing every secret art within the Scripture Pavilion.

For three straight months, Ji Changkong would frequently emerge late at night, slipping silently into the Scripture Pavilion when the darkness was deepest and the world hushed.

During these three months, Ji Changkong not only became generally familiar with the Heavenly Scholar secret arts and techniques on the first, second, and third floors of the Pavilion but also grew close to the old woman who tended it, Mo Yunyi.

Only after reaching the second and third floors of the Scripture Pavilion did Ji Changkong realize that the cultivation secrets stored there were merely upgraded versions of those on the first floor.

For instance, the Lingyun Yuan Qi Jue on the first floor only detailed cultivation methods up to the Sancai Heaven realm, spanning from Yiyuan Heaven. The second floor, however, recorded the secrets for cultivation from Sixiang Heaven up to Wuxing Heaven. The third floor also held a Lingyun Yuan Qi Jue, but this one covered methods from Liuhe Heaven through Qixing Heaven.

The other cultivation secrets followed the same pattern: the first floor held the foundation, while the second and third floors contained more advanced techniques.

Beyond these tiered methods, the second and third floors housed supplementary secret techniques and, most notably, handwritten notes left by predecessors—journals detailing the impasses they encountered at certain realms and the insights gained during breakthroughs.

It was only upon entering the second and third floors that Ji Changkong finally understood why Ji Changxiao, Ji Changle, and Ji Changsheng had desperately sought access to those upper levels: their true target was those handwritten insights.

Mo Yunyi had once recounted that Ji Changxiao’s dramatic breakthrough in the Scripture Pavilion, leaping from Yiyuan Heaven to Liangyi Heaven in a single sweep, was entirely due to finding a journal entry describing a dilemma remarkably similar to his own. That sudden understanding of his stagnation allowed him to reach Liangyi Heaven in just three days.

Besides the advanced techniques, the most precious assets on the second and third floors were these cultivation insights from those who had walked the path before!

Yet, these insights were not numerous, and the obstacles faced by every Heavenly Scholar on their arduous journey were inherently unique. Normally, a Heavenly Scholar must rely on personal comprehension to break through. Ji Changxiao’s past success was merely a stroke of luck, a case of a blind cat stumbling upon—α-．①⑥κ．&qu;òa dead mouse, finding a memoir that perfectly mirrored his exact struggle.

Such occurrences were exceedingly rare; this explained why Ji Changxiao gained nothing during his three days in the Scripture Pavilion this year.

However, whether it was the more profound Heavenly Scholar cultivation methods on the second and third floors, the magnificent and powerful attack techniques, or the insights of their predecessors, none of it mattered to Ji Changkong.

Unable to gather Yuan Power, he hadn't even surpassed the most fundamental barrier. Everything on the second and third floors was no better than waste paper to him!

The Ji family residence was not within Qingyan City but nestled at the foot of Qingyan Mountain, just outside the walls. Crossing Qingyan Mountain to the south led into the vast Yunmeng Marsh, a place choked with miasma and rampant poisonous fog. Beyond the Marsh lay the territory of the Southern Barbarian Tribes, known collectively as the Jiuyi.

At dawn, the rising sun slowly emerged from the endless Eastern Sea, bathing the firmament in a shimmering golden curtain that illuminated the earth.

At the peak of Qingyan Mountain, Ji Changkong sat listlessly upon the very slab of green rock where he had once strained his arms in desperate exertion. Three months ago, during the Ji family trials, he had fought tooth and nail, nearly collapsing from exhaustion, just to reach this summit as twilight fell.

He had remained here, perched on this spot, for an entire night, from yesterday's dusk until now!

His once clear eyes were now clouded with bewilderment. He stared blankly at the cloud-wreathed expanse of the Yunmeng Marsh nearby, watching the kaleidoscopic miasma drift slowly like painted clouds overhead. Abruptly, Ji Changkong seized a large jar of wine beside him and began gulping it down again with loud, desperate gurgles.

“Cough, cough, cough…”

The harsh wine burned his throat as he swallowed too quickly, bringing tears to his eyes. A profound bitterness instantly spread through his heart, surging to fill his entire being, perfectly mirroring the bleakness of his current mood.

The wine was called "Kudu" (Bitter Crossing), gifted to him by a strange old man in Qingyan City’s slums.

The old man, named Luo Tian, had first met Ji Changkong by throwing him a jar of this bitter wine and forcing him to drink half of it before a word was spoken between them. —This was when Ji Changkong was only seven years old!

“Little fellow, the first twenty years of your life are just like the name of this wine—Kudu. Whether the years after twenty are still called Kudu depends solely on you,” Luo Tian had said, his expression serious, showing no trace of jest, unlike what one might expect from a mystic. Later interactions confirmed Ji Changkong's observation: Luo Tian never joked.

Of course, a seven-year-old Ji Changkong paid no heed to Luo Tian’s pronouncements.

Yet, the subsequent chain of events proved Luo Tian’s words true—to the very letter! At least, up to this day, Luo Tian’s charted course for Ji Changkong’s life had not been wrong…

Since he could remember, Ji Changkong only knew his father, Ji Haotian, who had brought the infant him back to the Ji family seventeen years ago and had never returned since; his fate remained unknown. As for his mother? Even the entire Ji clan knew nothing, so naturally, Ji Changkong knew even less.

While others enjoyed the affection of their parents, Ji Changkong had to endure solitude alone.

His paternal grandfather, Ji Yusheng, was deeply dispirited within the family, unable to move past the mystery of Ji Haotian’s disappearance. Ji Yusheng was not one for outward displays of emotion; he merely watched Ji Changkong from a distance, offering silent care.

It wasn't until ten years ago, when Ji Wanyun returned to the family bearing four horrifying scars across her face, that Ji Changkong truly received unconditional affection.

But it was at this very juncture that the brutal truth of his inability to gather Yuan Power was exposed! The young Ji Changkong began to face deeper ostracization within the Ji family. In a family that revered strength above all, a child who could not gather Yuan Power was virtually useless! The newly cognizant Ji Changkong received only scorn, coldness, and derisive stares…

Another decade of bitterness, added to the first seven years before he was old enough to understand—a total of seventeen years. Seventeen years, that was how Ji Changkong had survived!

And now, Ji Changkong had suffered another devastating blow! The first floor of the Scripture Pavilion contained fifteen distinct Heavenly Scholar cultivation methods. By last night, Ji Changkong had tested every single one. He had tried every approach, but the result was the same: repeated unconsciousness mid-attempt, with absolutely nothing gained.

Over the past three months, his physical condition had not changed, and his living environment remained as before: Grandpa Ji Yusheng’s gaze held the same blend of love and deep disappointment; Aunt Ji Wanyun continued her unreserved, almost fragile care, as if afraid he might succumb to despair after repeated failures.

As for the rest of the Ji family… They were the same as ever: cold glances, mockery, and ridicule, as if these attitudes were perpetual! Or perhaps, like Ji Changle, they occasionally needed to test their fists on him, venting their pent-up frustrations to lift their own spirits.

Before entering the Scripture Pavilion, Ji Changkong had pinned all his hopes on the cultivation secrets within. At that time, hope existed in his heart, allowing him to endure even the hardest, most arduous life… because of that single, unquenchable spark of hope, he could persevere.

However, after testing every secret art, after extinguishing the flame of hope with his own hands, he began to feel lost, adrift, helpless… even despairing! Suddenly losing the goal that had sustained him, the process of seeing all his resolve crumble piece by piece had been agonizingly difficult…

“Kudu… Kudu… When will this boundless sea of suffering truly be crossed?” Sitting atop Qingyan Mountain, gazing at the shifting, multicolored mists of the Yunmeng Marsh in the distance, Ji Changkong’s face was etched with an ineffable sourness, bitterness, and a crushing sense of sorrow!

…

“Changkong.” A soft call drifted over. Ji Wanyun appeared quietly beside him, speaking gently, “Don’t lose heart; there is still hope.”

Ji Changkong stared blankly at Ji Wanyun for a long moment, then shook his head with a tragic smile. “Hope? I destroyed that hope with my own hands!”

“No!” A sharp pain pierced Ji Wanyun’s heart, and she quickly insisted, “There truly is hope!”

Without waiting for Ji Changkong to ponder further, Ji Wanyun hurried to explain, “I came precisely to take you to Wushan for a trip. Legend says the Heavenly Scholar methods cultivated by the Old Mother of Wushan are exceptionally unique. Every disciple accepted by her is granted a strand of Yuan Power, which they can use as a catalyst to gather more Yuan Power for cultivation.”

Seeing that Ji Changkong’s attention had been caught, Ji Wanyun pressed her advantage. “It is said that even an ordinary person, accepted as a disciple by the Old Mother of Wushan, can cultivate into a Heavenly Scholar using the Yuan Power she bestows!”

“Aunt, don’t worry, I won’t do anything foolish like jumping off a cliff.” Ji Changkong shook his head. His gaze was clear, though tinged with sadness. He sighed softly, “If there really were an Old Mother of Wushan, you would have taken me there long ago, why wait until now?”

“You child, being too smart makes you overthink!” Seeing that Ji Changkong genuinely showed no intent of self-harm, the tension in Ji Wanyun’s heart gradually eased. She smiled, lightly chastising him first, before daring to step forward and grab his arm, carefully pulling him back from the cliff edge.

“That Old Mother of Wushan was originally a Heavenly Scholar from the boundless islands of the East Sea. She only arrived in the Central Lands two years ago and has been cultivating in seclusion on Wushan in Lingyun City. Few people knew of her until she officially began accepting disciples six months ago. How could I possibly have foreseen such things?”

Ji Wanyun lightly tapped Ji Changkong’s head, her smile broadening. “I noticed you’ve been more and more distant these past three months, so I frantically inquired everywhere for news. I only heard about this Old Mother of Wushan through that girl, Ruolan. I didn’t expect you, my little fellow, to actually suspect your aunt of deceiving you?”

“Aunt, you really aren't lying to me?” Ji Changkong gasped in shock, exclaiming in surprise. Overcome with excitement, he lost his footing and dislodged a boulder the size of a human head, sending it tumbling down the mountain. Hearing the muffled crash echo up from the base moments later, Ji Changkong broke into a cold sweat himself.

Hearing such news precisely when he was about to surrender naturally made controlling his internal excitement difficult.

Ji Wanyun was even more agitated than Ji Changkong; her face had gone paper-white. She fiercely gripped Ji Changkong’s wrist, saying nothing, quickly dragging him to a safe area before angrily chastising him, “Changkong! How could you be so careless! Are you trying to scare your aunt to death?”

—It had indeed been perilous just now. Had Ji Wanyun not held onto him tightly, Ji Changkong could very well have slipped and fallen.

“Let’s go, let’s go! I’ll take you to Wushan right now! You terrifying boy, you almost scared me to death!” Ji Wanyun yanked him, practically dragging him down the mountain, unwilling to stay another second in such a dangerous place.

“Thank you, Aunt,” Ji Changkong murmured quietly. The fire of hope rekindled in his heart. Though he stumbled repeatedly as Ji Wanyun pulled him along, his expression was marked by fierce resolve.

Seventeen years have passed this way. As long as there is a single thread of hope, I cannot give up! Ji Changkong gritted his teeth, making a silent vow to himself.

…