Following a brief exchange between the two men, Luo Chuan quietly departed the Library Pavilion.
As his silhouette faded into the distance, Luo Changfeng remained still for a while, standing by the shadowed entrance of the ancient structure, arms folded behind his back, his eyes following the young man's retreating figure.
"The current head of the Luo Family's son… Luo Chuan."
A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"This little fellow... he's more interesting than he lets on."
Despite the fatigue that clung to the boy's features and the quiet burden in his voice, there was a sharpness in Luo Chuan—an attentiveness that belied his apparent youth and scholarly bearing. Luo Changfeng could feel it—beneath that wearied exterior was a storm of quiet thought, hidden worry, and restrained action.
Meanwhile, just beyond the pavilion, Luo Chuan walked alone.
His expression was calm, but a heavy unease twisted beneath his collected appearance. He glanced once over his shoulder, as though hoping to catch a glimpse of the elder's figure still standing in the entranceway.
But there was nothing. Only the still hush of the ancient grounds.
"Elder Changfeng's condition…"
He clenched his jaw slightly.
It was even better than a few days prior.
There was no sign of fatigue, no pallor, no trembling in his breath or weakness in his posture. On the contrary—his aura felt calmer, deeper, and more refined. There was a newfound energy behind his gaze, as though a flame had been rekindled within him.
And that—
—that terrified Luo Chuan.
He knew the legends well. When someone neared death, they often experienced a final rally—a surge of vitality before the end. A deceiving clarity. An illusion of health before the final collapse.
"The time of Elder Changfeng's final rally… has it truly reached its peak?"
He slowed his steps.
"And when that brightness fades…"
"…what will we be left with?"
A tight breath escaped him.
"Father… the time left for our Luo Family is running out."
"Have you made your final decision yet?"
Inside the Library Pavilion, silence reigned.
The air was thick with the scent of aged scrolls and ink, the walls lined with shelves carved from red sandalwood, each row weighed down with knowledge accumulated over three centuries.
This was no common library. It was the foundation of the Luo Family's legacy—its Cultivation Techniques, manuals, and arcane texts guarded fiercely from outsiders.
Servants could not enter here.
Even those born with the Luo bloodline were limited: three visits per month, and no stay could last longer than three hours.
Only the truly exceptional—the brilliant and the gifted—could gain more.
Such was the privilege of talent.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Luo Changfeng's footsteps echoed softly across the floorboards as he ascended to the second level of the Library Pavilion. The light filtering through the high windows grew thinner, more subdued, giving the air an almost sacred stillness.
Just as he stepped onto the second floor landing, a series of light footsteps approached from the shelves ahead—rushed, uneven, accompanied by a voice muttering under its breath.
"To learn the art of Alchemy, one must first learn to control fire…"
"Once fire control is mastered, one must then understand the effects of Spiritual Medicines—how they interact, blend, repel…"
"Eh… no, no, I'm off track again!"
"I originally wanted to study how that aphrodisiac pill was made… how did I end up learning basic alchemy instead?!"
Turning a corner between shelves, Luo Changfeng was met with the sight of a young man—skinnier than even Luo Chuan, with dark circles hanging beneath his eyes like shadows painted in ink. His complexion was pale, and his movements somewhat listless, like someone who had pulled too many all-nighters chasing obscure theories.
He was so focused on the thick manual in his hands, Alchemy Quick Success Method, that he almost collided with the elder.
[The son of Luo An—Luo Yang!]
The golden panel flickered in Luo Changfeng's vision, immediately supplying the youth's identity.
"Patriarch Changfeng?!"
Luo Yang jolted backward as though struck by lightning, his voice shooting up a full octave. In a panic, he hastily tried to hide the book behind his back—though it was far too thick to vanish discreetly.
"When… when did you arrive?!"
Luo Changfeng tilted his head slightly, watching the boy's comical fluster with an amused expression. His voice, however, was calm and warm.
"Since you mentioned wanting to research the aphrodisiac pill."
"Ah?!!"
Luo Yang's ears turned red. He flailed his arms slightly in defense, stammering as he tried to justify himself.
"P-Patriarch Changfeng! This isn't what it looks like!"
"There's… there's a lot of hidden knowledge in that pill, I swear!"
"It's not… I mean, I'm not trying to—"
The more he explained, the deeper he dug himself.
Luo Changfeng raised a hand, smiling faintly.
"It's fine. I understand."
He stepped forward and gently patted Luo Yang on the shoulder.
Then, without another word, he clasped his hands behind his back and continued walking deeper into the rows of ancient texts.
Behind him, Luo Yang let out a long, dramatic sigh.
"Sigh…"
"Elder Changfeng knows now."
He stared at the elder's retreating figure with a complicated look.
"…But the mental state of Elder Changfeng… is there something strange about it?"
The Library Pavilion was divided into three floors, each with its own significance.
The first floor housed basic texts—common manuals, old tales, and basic martial arts suited for physical training or young disciples just beginning their paths.
The second floor stored useful books gathered over generations: niche martial arts techniques, basic alchemy theories, texts on planting, medicine, and minor crafts. It was here that the "Alchemy Quick Success Method" had been found.
Many of the techniques here were just barely above the level of mundane practices—what cultivators referred to as the Common Folk's Lower Tier.
And finally, the third floor.
The Luo Family's true treasure trove.
It contained only a few dozen texts—each one carefully curated and stored in jade or gold-thread binding. These were techniques at the mid to upper level of the Common Folk Tier, or rarer foundational manuals inherited from the family's early golden years.
Even the Fierce Tiger Force technique—one that Luo Changfeng himself had partially mastered—was stored there.
As he quietly ascended to the final level, the air grew heavier, as if the weight of generations of intent and expectation lingered in the rafters.
Once inside the third floor, Luo Changfeng scanned the shelves, noting immediately that the number of books here was far fewer than below.
But what they lacked in quantity, they made up for in quality.
Common Folk's Mid Tier — Three Steps to Chase the Cicada!Common Folk's Upper Tier — Yin Provoking Leg!Common Folk's Mid Tier — Iron Finger Technique!
He picked up Three Steps to Chase the Cicada, flipping through its pages with measured interest.
"A movement technique focused on agility…"
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Not bad. A bit crude in its structure, but it could be refined…"
He placed it back gently, continuing deeper into the chamber.
Here, the shelves thinned even more—spacing out as if to give reverence to the texts placed near the center.
Eventually, he reached the heart of the third floor.
There, resting on a white jade pedestal, was the familiar manual.
Common Folk's Upper Tier — Fierce Tiger Force!
But Luo Changfeng's gaze did not settle on the technique he already knew.
Instead, it drifted toward a more inconspicuous volume placed off to the side.
It was worn, thinner than the others, its spine cracked, and its cover only half-intact.
Common Folk's Upper Tier — Feng Ying Step (Incomplete)!
His eyes narrowed slightly.
This was a movement technique—evidently rare, and equally valuable. But what intrigued him was not its tier, but the question it raised.
"Is the entire manual ranked as upper tier?" he wondered silently. "Or… is it just this half?"
The implications mattered.
If even an incomplete version was ranked this high, the complete Feng Ying Step might well surpass the upper tier, potentially even edging toward the threshold of uncommon techniques.
Luo Changfeng slowly reached out and picked it up.
The moment his fingers touched the parchment, he felt a faint vibration—subtle, but present.
There was power in this manual.
Even in its incomplete state, it resonated with a certain rhythm—like wind brushing over leaves, light and swift, with an edge that could cut.
He stood there for a long moment, the half-finished manual in hand, brows furrowed slightly as he began to calculate his next steps.
If he could comprehend even a portion of this Feng Ying Step, his mobility in battle would increase dramatically.
And speed… speed was often what determined life or death on the battlefield.
He smiled faintly to himself.