To his surprise, everything was neatly organized. In a secluded corner stood a small bookcase holding only a modest collection—aged tomes with worn covers and scrolls sealed with ink long since faded.
The moment he read the titles, his heart raced.
The Sacred Eight Continents.
Myths of the Ancient World.
The History of the Wandering Immortal.
The Great Holy-Demonic War.
“Damn…” he murmured, a fleeting grin tugging at his lips. “Just reading the titles is enough to make my blood boil as a veteran reader.”
He exhaled softly. “But time’s short. Essentials first.”
Suppressing his excitement, he began searching methodically.
One book on geography. Another on history, to understand the current era. And perhaps one more for general knowledge.
As he scanned the shelves, his expression twisted now and then.
“Not this one… not that either…”
His eyes stopped on a dust-covered volume.
A Hundred Ways to Send Your Dual Partner to Heaven.
Jin stared at it in silence for several seconds.
“…How the hell did something like this end up here?”
With a sigh, he slid it back into place.
Nearly an hour later, he stood holding four books: Myths of the Ancient World, The Sacred Eight Continents, History of the LingLong Continent… and one more he simply couldn’t resist.
Its title shimmered faintly beneath the hall’s spiritual light.
The Great Holy-Demonic War.
Whether it was history, myth, or pure fabrication didn’t matter. With a name like that, ignoring it was impossible.
Decision made, Jin headed toward the counter.
Martial techniques would have to wait. It wasn’t that he lacked interest—but copying them required merit points.
And in that regard, he was as poor as a beggar.
When he reached the spot where the old man had been, the counter stood empty.
Puzzled, Jin approached a nearby disciple.
“Excuse me, senior brother,” he asked politely, “do you know where the elder in charge of copying records is?”
The young man looked at him as if he’d just said something absurd.
“You mean Protector Su Ming?”
He shook his head. “He doesn’t handle that. The Grand Elder only guards this place.”
Then, in a firmer tone, he added, “And next time, refer to him properly—as Protector or Grand Elder.”
With that, he turned and left.
Jin remained standing there, blank-faced, as though a giant question mark hovered above his head.
“What the hell just happened…?” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Moments later, his eyes caught another counter near the center of the hall, where several disciples were requesting copies as usual.
“Ah… I see,” he sighed. “Not exactly hard to guess.”
He approached the clerk—a woman no older than twenty-five. When she noticed him, her eyes widened slightly. Though still young, the boy carried a presence, like unpolished jade awaiting refinement.
Recovering quickly, she glanced at the books and offered a faint smile.
“Since these are all common texts, it’ll be five merit points each. Twenty in total.”
Jin froze.
He had barely ninety-two points to begin with.
Now he was down to seventy-two—and had no idea how to earn more.
Swallowing his despair behind a dry cough, he extended his token.
“Here you go, senior sister.”
She chuckled at his reaction, brushed a finger across the token, and handed it back as it glowed faintly.
“All set. And remember,” she added, her tone turning serious, “even if they’re only history books, they’re not allowed to leave the sect. Some knowledge isn’t meant for mortals.”
Jin nodded respectfully, gathered his things, and left.
As he walked toward the exit, his thoughts drifted back to the old man.
“No point dwelling on that…” he murmured, letting it go.
The walk back passed without incident. By chance, he overheard several disciples discussing the colors of their robes—each representing a different peak within the sect:
red for Celestial Cauldron Peak, silver for Serene Soul Peak, green for Jade Body Peak, blue for Eternal Steel Peak… and gray—paired with equally grim expressions—for Shadow Puppet Peak.
“Strange,” Jin thought. “I haven’t seen anyone from the Sword or Alchemy Peaks.”
Outwardly calm, a quiet spark burned within him.
At last, he had something that could help him understand this world.
By sunset, Jin reached his modest residence. He looked around and sighed. It wasn’t much—but it would be home for who knew how long.
He lit an oil lamp, opened the windows, and laid the books beside the jade fragment on the table.
“The cultivation technique can wait,” he decided, setting the jade aside.
After a moment’s hesitation, he picked up a thin volume.
Golden letters adorned its cover.
The Sacred Eight Continents.
“Guess I’ll start with this one.”
He opened it carefully, fingertips brushing over the prologue.
In the ancient ages, eight continents rose from the primordial sea. Each inherited a different aspect of the Dao, and together they formed the balance of the world.
Jin smirked.
“Always sounds so grand. I guess every ancient book starts like that.”
The next page revealed a map—a vast central continent surrounded by seven smaller ones.
At the center lies the Celestial Continent, Zhong. There reside the most powerful sects, the oldest empires, and clans that defied the erosion of time. Their influence reaches even the outer seas.
“So that’s where the real powerhouses live,” Jin muttered. “Maybe one day…”
He continued reading.
To the east lies the LingLong Continent—a land of spirituality and order, where the blood of ancient dragons still flows beneath the mountains. It is said they never vanished, only slumbered, guarding the spiritual veins of the land.
“Dragons, huh?” Jin raised an eyebrow. “Now that’s interesting.”
The people of LingLong possess a natural affinity for pure energy, mirroring the flow of the dragons beneath their soil.
“So that’s our homeland… not bad.”
To the north lies Beihai, a frozen land where clans hunt beasts born of frost.
To the south, Nanluo—a dense jungle ruled by sects that cultivate both body and soul.
To the west stands Xiyang, an endless desert where heavenly fire never fades.
Beyond the Purple Sea lies Dongxu, land of storms and alchemists.
The sixth continent, Yaoguang, is one of mirages and illusion, where nothing is ever as it seems.
And the seventh—Moyuan, the Demonic Continent—was sealed ten thousand years ago after the Great War. Its skies still bleed.
Jin fell silent, eyes lingering on the map.
When the eight align once more, the balance shall break, and the heavens shall choose a new guardian.
“A new guardian… sure,” he muttered, a faint smile forming.
Closing the book, he leaned back in his chair as the lamp’s glow softened his thoughtful expression.
The image of the map lingered in his mind—eight continents, eight possible destinies.
And among them, in the calmest of all… his own.
“Well,” he murmured at last,
“at least now I know where I stand.”