Chapter 73: Chapter 73
"Purple Dragon Order!"
The old man’s eyes, once drowsy and indifferent, lit up with sharp curiosity. His figure beneath the white hair seemed to straighten, a current of solemnity overtaking his playful manner as his gaze lingered on the token.
"Is it true, did that girl Lyralei give it to you?" he asked, voice quiet but penetrating, as if searching for truth in Ethan’s eyes. There was a cautious weight in his tone—a hint of respect and wariness normally reserved.
"Are you her new direct disciple? Or...?" Stone’s gaze hovered, searching for clues.
Ethan bowed lightly. "Senior, the jade pendant was given by Mr. Burn."
"Mr. Burn?!" Mr. Stone’s surprise was even more pronounced. Lines of memory flickered across his face as he mulled over the implications.
The old immortal of the Demon Sealing Cave recruiting disciples again—the sect’s ancient patterns felt shaken for a moment.
"Your name, boy?"
"Disciple Ethan. May I know what I should call you, senior?" Ethan asked, maintaining respectful form.
Mr. Stone grinned. "They call me Mr. Stone, so you may do the same."
"Thank you, Senior Mr. Stone." Ethan bowed again.
The Purple Dragon Order had proved its worth once more. It was a trump card—one of Ethan’s few and most precious tools—reserved for the moments when nothing else would suffice.
Men like Elden didn’t even qualify to witness it.
The Black Dragon Order was even more dangerous, revealing it would expose Ethan’s entire identity to the world. Caution, after all, defined Ethan’s every step—especially now that demon spies like Ashen lurked so close.
Mr. Burn and Lyralei had repeatedly warned him: sect outsiders and hidden hands often sought his life.
Today, those words echoed even louder. Ashen’s job might not be simple; assassination could be a true risk, and other sect geniuses were just as vulnerable.
Ethan resolved, once again, to report this danger to Lyralei at the earliest moment.
Mr. Stone’s manner relaxed.
"In the east section of the third floor, you’ll find all books on physical cultivation. Ask me if you’re puzzled; though I am old, I still know a thing or two."
Ethan smiled. "Senior, you joke. You’re obviously still quite sturdy for your age."
Stone laughed. "You’ve got a clever tongue... Now go do your business." He waved Ethan on.
Ethan made his way to the center of the Grand Library, passing under a massive curved dome filled with intricate murals and astral engravings, sunlight filtering in through crystal windows in patterns that danced upon the marble floor.
The building’s shape was distinct—hexagonal, with pillars and eaves reminiscent of both power and elegance, testifying to the hidden architects of this ancient cultivation world.
In the east area, shelves towered in rigid lines, the air dense with the scent of parchment and bamboo.
Ethan enjoyed the moment; the shock of this library rivaled his first steps into the provincial library during his previous life—a place of new possibilities, unexplored wisdom, and forgotten depths.
Since his transmigration, Serene Mirror Lake had been his home and prison, and real books had become a rarity for him.
He approached the "physical cultivation" section, golden characters glinting in the twilight. The area was sparsely filled compared to the sprawling shelves devoted to spiritual techniques and scholarly texts. Less than a hundred books and scrolls lined three tall floors—a small, lonely corner devoted to a field largely ignored by the mainstream.
Ethan traced each row methodically, evaluating parchment and bamboo scrolls one by one.
"No..."
"Not this..."
"I’ve seen this method before..."
Book after book passed through Ethan’s hands, disappointment growing heavy upon his brow. The more he read, the colder his heart became.
Azure Origin Dao Sect, famed for its spiritual arts, cared little for body cultivators—few knew them, fewer respected them, and almost none documented their secrets. Ethan realized, yet again, how alone he stood on his path.
Most cultivators chased spiritual energy above all. Without spiritual roots, admittance into the Azure Origin Dao Sect was almost impossible—Ethan was a special case, a rare exception. Normal disciples rarely cultivated the body; when the crowd walked one road, it became a highway, but the path less traveled remained wild and broken, not a true road at all.
So, naturally, physical cultivation was a niche within a niche—an orphan discipline, ignored and malnourished.
This truth, Ethan mused, probably held everywhere: aristocratic families, sects, even empires strove for spiritual power, not physical achievement. The few body cultivators lived in the margins.
He sighed, putting aside his tangled thoughts, and kept reading.
Physical training, tempering the body, nourishing blood and essence, making bones iron and skin copper—these techniques were simple enough. A true physical master could catch blades in bare hands, absorb spiritual attacks through sheer bodily resilience...
"They’re all the same," Ethan muttered, massaging his temples.
"Not a word about igniting the divine fire in physical cultivation."
A small headache throbbed behind his eyes.
Sometimes, he wondered if his life as a transmigrant had truly been chosen, or if he was simply another student cramming for an exam, drowning in unanswered questions.
"Could it be that some old wheeze has deliberately clouded practice, scattering smoke bombs to mislead me?"
But he dared not dismiss the possibility. Better to believe than to ignore a clue.
With only the last row of books left—barely ten in number—he pressed on, vowing to finish before sunset.
Reading here was different from his former life.
Instead of endless dry text, these scrolls and books blended words with lush engravings—visual guides, diagrams, and annotated illustrations to make learning direct and immersive. Even thick texts rarely took a day to finish; lengthy webnovels paled in comparison to the efficiency of this world’s literature.
Time slipped away. As the hour stretched, the sun outside slid into evening; darkness gathered in corners and shadows lengthened.
Mr. Stone, attentive even in his leisure, flicked his wrist. Flames flared up across the library—lamps burst into bloom throughout the hall, scattering the gloom and giving the library an amber glow.
He gazed quietly at Ethan.
"Rare, these days, to find anyone who can sit down and read a book for hours."
Mr. Stone sighed inwardly; when he was young, reading was wasted time.
A teacher gave all answers; practice mattered more than theory.
He had been a sword devotee, not a scholar; a day spent cultivating the blade always felt richer than an hour spent with a book.
But in time, wisdom grew. State of mind, meditation, reflection—these fostered mastery. To read calmly was itself a kind of cultivation.
Mr. Stone smiled to himself, taking out a restricted "villain" painting book to enjoy.
A/N:
Extra Chapters
100 power stones - 1 Extra Chapters
200 power stones - 2 Extra Chapters
Capsule - 1 Extra Chapters
Massage Chair - 3 Extra Chapters
Luxury Car - 5 Extra Chapters
Magic Castle - 15 Extra Chapters