In a secluded garret within a corner of the Hanyan Palace on Mount Qiantiān, Zong Yuan, Ruo Shui, Chu Xue, and Shi Ruolan stood separated, each occupying their own space.

Zong Shou stood precisely at the center, holding a token. It was the jade slip gifted by Wei Xu, capable of shifting one across ten thousand li.

The front was engraved with arcane runes, while the back held the incantation required to activate it. Zong Shou murmured the words silently, and the jade slip in his hand began to emit a faint glimmer. In mere moments, a sphere of spiritual light radiated outwards, perfectly enveloping the four individuals surrounding him. Furthermore, four slender beams of light shot out, sweeping the vicinity until they sharply locked onto the tokens held by Zong Yuan and the other three. Zong Shou inwardly noted, as expected, Wei Xu had provided four quotas, and this translocation jade slip could move exactly four people.

As the master of this treasure, he could clearly sense that once these four beams were locked, the residual energy of the translocation jade slip was entirely depleted.

Then, in the very next instant, the surrounding spiritual essence of heaven and earth abruptly surged. Zong Shou felt the scene before his eyes warp drastically.

Unlike the previous time, his body felt utterly ethereal now. At an astonishing speed, he passed through wooden walls, through groves of trees, through colossal mountains, through the vast expanse of clouds—a dizzying, ceaseless rush.

In the span of a single breath, the scenery before him transformed hundreds of times. In the blink of an eye, he had traversed an unknowable distance.

Zong Shou was momentarily lost in the sensation. When he regained clarity, he found himself standing within a wooden structure.

Chu Xue still looked dazed, her eyes unfocused. Ruo Shui and Zong Yuan were likewise furrowing their brows, struggling to recover from the sudden displacement. Ruolan’s small face was also pale. However, once her vision cleared, her first action was to cast a curious gaze toward Zong Shou's hand, as if trying to fully comprehend the object he held. Zong Shou was also looking around, surveying the environment: they were in a corner of a massive edifice.

The area was lined with all manner of towering bookshelves, laden with countless volumes of various classifications. Only the space where the five of them stood had been cleared, and beneath their feet lay an intricate and complex Spirit Array.

“This is… the Scriptorium?”

A trace of intense eagerness flashed in Zong Shou’s eyes. Though he had visited the Realm of the Blue Sky once before with Wei Xu, strictly speaking, he had only spent a few hours in the Ancestral Hall. He knew absolutely nothing of the outside conditions, nor had he ever set foot in the repository where the Daoist Scriptures of Cangsheng were kept.

“Young Master, is this the Realm? The spiritual energy here is indeed dense.”

Chu Xue’s eyes finally regained their luster. She tentatively stretched out her soul power, which immediately caused the surrounding spiritual essence of heaven and earth to ripple, causing various colors to bloom around her form. Seeing this, Chu Xue became overjoyed, waving her hands in a circle, stirring up pinpricks of multicolored spiritual light.

A moment later, she noticed the strange looks cast by Zong Yuan and Ruo Shui. Chu Xue froze, suddenly remembering where they were. She quickly stopped, playfully sticking out her small tongue.

Zong Shou paid it no mind and walked directly toward the staircase. This Scriptorium spanned four stories, measuring a hundred zhang in width and length, with four staircases. The collection within was estimated to be nearly a million volumes. As he walked, glancing at the labels on the spines, Zong Shou’s eyes began to glow with an almost desperate desire to immediately seize them and devour the contents.

Among these texts, he had already spotted over a thousand unique volumes that had been completely lost to posterity. Some of these were texts he had searched for relentlessly in his previous life, yet never had the fortune to find.

Upon reaching the bottom floor, Zong Shou halted abruptly just short of the doorway. His gaze narrowed as he looked to the side.

There sat an elder on a wooden chair, his appearance withered. His hair was sparse, and only three or five wisps of beard hung beneath his chin. He was looking over at them with an expression that was neither fully a smile nor a frown. Yet, when Zong Shou had descended the stairs, his spiritual sense had not detected this person’s presence at all; to his perception, the old man seemed as inert as a dead object.

Zong Shou took a deep breath, his expression becoming solemn. He bowed deeply, clasping his fists: “May I ask, Senior—”

Before the words were out, the elder waved his sleeve: “No need for such ceremony. I am merely a caretaker here in the Scriptorium. My name is Han Fang; you may call me Senior Brother Han.”

Zong Shou’s brow immediately arched. So, this person was of his own generation. However, he became even more respectful, maintaining his bow: “Greetings, Senior Brother Han.”

The fact that the elder was not surprised by their sudden appearance in the Scriptorium suggested he was aware of Zong Shou’s identity. To be addressed as a peer by someone who was contemporaneous with him—the ‘Second Generation Direct Disciple of Cangsheng Dao’—meant this man must date back at least eight thousand years, perhaps ten thousand, to the Cloud Barrens Era. To have survived until now, his cultivation must certainly be formidable.

Han Fang, upon seeing this, let out a burst of laughter. “The six Second Generation Direct Disciples of Cangsheng Dao were all undisciplined, never observing propriety, nor caring for seniority or rank. I never expected the last one to be so deferential.”

Zong Shou’s brow twitched; he couldn't quite discern whether Han Fang’s words were praise or criticism. Then, Han Fang’s expression sharpened. “Your Senior Brother Wei informed me that you inherited the lineage of Martial Uncle Lin Xuan Shuang. At the time, I thought he was overly rash. How could the status of a Second Generation Direct Disciple be bestowed so lightly? Seeing you now, I find the boy had a point. I hear you recently inherited the lineage of Dragon Shadow? I personally witnessed the riddle he set at Dragon Gathering Mountain; it was designed purely to vex people. You managed to solve it—that is no small feat. In this last century, if we speak of innate talent and fortune in the Dao of the Sword, you surely rank among the top three. Of course, this time, it was also Dragon Shadow’s good fortune.”

“Merely luck,” Zong Shou straightened up, his expression placid, paying no heed to Han Fang’s commendation. However, the elder’s subsequent remark greatly piqued his curiosity. “Senior Brother, to be accepted as a disciple under Master Dragon Shadow is my fortune. Why would Senior Brother speak of my Master in that way?”

Han Fang gave a dry chuckle. “I meant no disparagement, merely stating facts. Do you know that the inheritance of the Nine-Nine Dragon Shadow Sword is a knot in your Master’s heart?”

Zong Shou frowned slightly, growing more perplexed. Looking at the arrangements Dragon Shadow made on Dragon Gathering Mountain, he didn’t seem overly concerned with his sword lineage. It looked more like he was trying to drive everyone away.

“Does his actions on Dragon Gathering Mountain strike you as strange?”

As if reading Zong Shou’s thoughts, Han Fang said slowly, “This man’s temperament is extraordinarily stubborn. He left the Inner and Outer Dragon Gates there out of spite in the past. Later, no matter how others persuaded him, he refused to change. He said mediocre talents were beneath his notice. Only someone with truly supreme sword talent could inherit his Nine-Nine Dragon Shadow Sword and perfect it.”

Zong Shou listened quietly. This Senior Brother Han had yet to explain why Dragon Shadow was so anxious about finding a successor.

“—I recall Martial Saint Dragon Shadow reached the Saint Realm nine thousand seven hundred years ago. And by six thousand five hundred years ago, he had reached the Zenith of the Saint Realm, just one step shy of breaking through to Tribulation Transcendence. Yet, for over six thousand years since, he hasn't crossed that threshold. His remaining lifespan is now only thirty years!”

Zong Shou’s pupils contracted sharply. According to Dragon Shadow’s own account, the day that the Divine Realm True Dragon escaped was precisely thirty years hence.

Han Fang’s voice continued, “The underlying reason is this unresolved knot in his heart. He fears failing the Tribulation and having the sword techniques he struggled to create go without an inheritor, thus being unable to depart without worldly ties. That is why I say it was luck. He was practically doomed to perish, and now he has a sliver of hope. The Ancestor of the Lingyun Sect is also at the Zenith of the Saint Realm. But do you think the Lingyun Sect fears him as much? A person whose life is about to end naturally disregards many conventions—and some rules need no longer be observed—”

Hearing this, Zong Shou’s expression became blank, yet he found it strange that this Senior Brother Han knew of these matters.

Han Fang stopped speaking, offering no explanation. His gaze shifted, sweeping over the four people behind Zong Shou.

“Your Senior Brother Wei left you four quotas for Inner Disciples, and you used them all? You certainly don't cherish them. Hmm? A Nine-Tailed Shadow Body and an Unparalleled General Seed. They certainly qualify to join my Cangsheng Dao.”

After observing Zong Yuan and Ruo Shui, Han Fang let out a sudden cry of astonishment. He suddenly reached out, snatching Shi Ruolan into his grasp. He tapped her brow with a finger, and immediately, strands of snow-white markings spread across her skin.

“Mad Lion Snow Seal? Is she the descendant of the Six-Spirit Snow Lion?”

Zong Shou had been preoccupied with the matter of his own Master taking him as a disciple. He knew the elder Dragon Shadow would attempt the breakthrough within a few years. But did advancing to the True Realm require Tribulation Transcendence? He hadn't heard of that.

Hearing Han Fang’s words, he snapped back to attention. He chuckled lightly: “According to her kin, she does possess the Mad Lion Snow Seal and is a direct descendant of the Snow Lion of the Palm.”

The elder then channeled some inner breath into Shi Ruolan’s body. His expression shifted slightly, and then he set her down, but did not return her to Zong Shou. Instead, he placed her next to himself.

“How about this girl becoming my disciple?”

Zong Shou blinked again, taking a moment to process the situation. He thought that his Senior Brother was certainly direct. To ask for Shi Ruolan as a disciple, he must have discovered something else. Zong Shou wholeheartedly agreed internally; he had been worrying about finding someone capable enough to instruct Ruolan. Having this Senior Brother—whoever he was, Saint Realm or True Realm—was far better than his own mediocre guidance.

Ruolan looked bewildered at first, then her expression turned timid, looking toward them with pleading eyes. Zong Shou gave her a reassuring smile before frowning again. “It’s not that Zong Shou is unwilling, but Ruolan is truly too young. At her age, becoming Senior Brother’s disciple might not be appropriate. It would also be unfair to the other fellow disciples.”

Han Fang let out an exasperated laugh. “You, Zong Shou, are only fifteen years old, and you became a Second Generation Direct Disciple of Cangsheng Dao! If she joins my sect, she would merely be a Second Generation True Disciple. What is inappropriate about that?”

After scolding him a few times, Han Fang noticed Zong Shou absentmindedly fiddling with a token in his hand, and suddenly realized the situation. He cursed again: “Are you not just trying to squeeze out a few more Inner Disciple quotas? I’ll grant you two more!”

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