Chapter 285: Library Pavilion
"And who might you be?"
A guard stationed at the entrance of the Library Pavilion watched the lone figure approaching. Dai Yao, with his golden hair and a chilling aura that would unsettle even the boldest spirit masters, glanced up in silence. Though his calm was frequently disrupted by the residual killing intent within him, he remained composed, understanding the guards' caution.
Without a word, he drew a token from the ring gifted to him by Bibi Dong, infusing it with spirit energy. The guards immediately recognized the formidable presence it emanated.
"Pope's Token!" the lead guard exclaimed, his eyes wide. Bibi Dong's emblem was effectively her presence in spirit; all guards quickly knelt. "Sir, please enter. The Pavilion Master has been awaiting your arrival."
"Oh? The Pavilion Master?" Dai Yao echoed with mild surprise.
"He's the true custodian of the Library Pavilion, tasked with managing its countless volumes. Every Pavilion Master must master the organization here. If you need any text, he will know precisely where to find it," the guard explained.
Understanding, Dai Yao nodded, restraining the oppressive energy within him. "Then, please, take me to him."
The Library Pavilion, though grand, was modest in its design, exuding a serene atmosphere of knowledge and history. In its center rose a massive dome surrounded by orderly shelves, each filled with tens of thousands of books. Not a speck of dust disturbed the texts, as if time had little influence here. Every shelf, marked by the wear of ages, held the imprints of countless readers.
Following the guard, Dai Yao marveled at the library's vast knowledge—a legacy only an enduring and powerful force like Spirit City could preserve. Here lay the very foundations of a true empire's heritage.
At a nearby shelf, an elderly man stood with a feather duster, tending to the books. He was silver-haired and bespectacled, his modest clothes suggesting a simple life, yet his care and attention spoke of a lifelong dedication. Occasionally, he paused to examine an intriguing volume, turning its pages with delicate reverence.
"Sir, this is our Pavilion Master," the guard introduced with a respectful nod. His admiration for the elderly man was unmistakable.
Surprised, Dai Yao observed the elderly man closely. With no visible trace of spirit power, he wondered if this humble figure could, in fact, be a powerful Spirit Douluo.
The old man, as if sensing his curiosity, chuckled warmly, "Young man, no need to guess. I have no spirit power—just an old custodian, a useless soul in the realm of spirit masters," he said without a hint of regret. His lack of spirit power was a limitation many might lament, yet he seemed at peace with it.
"All Library Pavilion custodians must choose between the path of a spirit master or that of a caretaker. Watching over this vast trove of knowledge demands an entire lifetime. Those who choose this path must forfeit their pursuits as spirit masters," he explained patiently.
"Is it really impossible to balance both?" Dai Yao asked, surprised.
The old man shook his head with a kind smile. "A young man once thought as you do, but soon found that simply maintaining the Pavilion consumed most of his energy. His divided attention caused serious harm and nearly ruined this place." He continued, "Each Pavilion Master eventually chooses—either they remain as spirit masters and depart, or dedicate themselves here and abandon that road."
Dai Yao felt a deep respect for the elderly man before him, whose years had been devoted to such a confined yet noble role. The Pavilion was his world—an endless maze of books and scrolls. "Have you ever regretted becoming a custodian?" he couldn't help but ask.
The old man chuckled again, "An interesting question. Few ask that. Many, upon learning I'm not a spirit master, change their demeanor, only offering polite respect if they're of a decent sort."
"But," he continued, his gaze distant, "I have no regrets. Some pursue fame, others long for solitude. To me, safeguarding this library has always been enough. One day, when I'm too old, I'll entrust it to the next custodian. Perhaps in another thousand years, this library, a beacon of human knowledge, will benefit countless others."
Dai Yao felt his respect deepen. The Pavilion was a silent witness to the ages, a repository of the ideas of the wise. It was unsettling to think that one day this treasure trove might be reduced to ashes—yet he couldn't shake the knowledge of its fate in the original story.
"Now, young man," the Pavilion Master said, drawing Dai Yao from his reverie, "what brings you here today?"
"I would like to understand the fundamental definitions of spirit essence, spirit rings, and spirit skills as recorded by scholars throughout history."
Dai Yao's goal was clear: to redefine the very mechanics of spirit mastery. By addressing the foundations of spirit power, he sought to dismantle the old hierarchy that barred those of common birth from strength unless through mutation. Only by understanding how to define these elements could he expose the logic governing them and, perhaps, find a way to bring about lasting change.
The Pavilion Master blinked, processing the unusual request before shaking his head with a wry smile. "Ah, young man, a fine question, indeed. Sadly, even now, the world of spirit masters hasn't yet tackled it. Some scholars have taken interest, but none have proposed a convincing definition."
"So," he continued, "the truth is that our world of spirit masters has yet to find a true answer to your question."
Dai Yao's eyes widened in shock. "How can that be?" Defining spirit essence, spirit rings, and spirit skills should have been fundamental to spirit master theory. Without these definitions, he wondered how the spirit master framework had even been built.
Though mystified, he could only assume that the birth of the first spirit master must have come through intuitive trial and error, perhaps lending spirit rings an unrefined yet natural definition.
Yet his resolve was undiminished, and he felt more determined than ever to trace these elements to their origin, hoping he could bring forth a new understanding and a brighter future.
Yet the development of Douluo Continent, spanning tens of thousands of years, seemed to have overlooked this matter entirely, as though a vast, shadowy hand had erased a piece of its history.
For a spirit master to grow stronger, they must hunt spirit beasts and obtain spirit rings. In this way, spirit masters and spirit beasts are set against each other. Ultimately, one side must be eradicated to end the cycle of animosity.
This realization sent a chill through Dai Yao—was the existence of spirit masters part of a sinister plot aimed at destroying spirit beasts?
The elderly man continued, "Young man, your question touches on the Dao, the fundamental nature of things. Meanwhile, the current research in the spirit master world focuses mainly on technique—the best configuration for spirit rings, differences between beast and tool spirits, and so forth."
"Truth is never easy to grasp. It demands painstaking accumulation of knowledge, sweat, and flashes of inspiration to etch your name in the history of spirit masters."
Dai Yao felt his respect deepen, bowing slightly, "Thank you for your wisdom."
"For any seeker of knowledge, I spare no effort. Start with the first book here. These shelves hold every piece of human wisdom from the ancient past to now. They may lead you to the answer you seek." The elder pointed to the farthest shelf, smiling.
Nodding, Dai Yao headed toward the back of the library.
Since then, the library had gained a new reader: a golden-haired young man who delved into texts, beginning with the simplest hieroglyphs. Sometimes he frowned, sometimes marveled, or fell deep into thought. As books were opened and carefully returned, his speed increased, and his understanding grew. Gradually, even the intense killing intent within him wore down, as water wears down stone.
In a single month, Dai Yao closed the final book on his first set of shelves. He glanced at the vast, seemingly endless shelves around him and smiled wryly.
"Learning truly knows no end."
Over the past month, Dai Yao had read from dawn till dusk, often reading even during meals, and always absorbed in a text whenever possible. Each night, he took respite—though not alone, for Zhu Zhuqing and Feng Wutong took turns with him to help him quell the dangerous impulses of his killing aura.
Yes, to release his killing aura. Nothing more.
"Master."
Just as Dai Yao returned a book to its place, a soft voice sounded behind him. Turning, he saw a familiar figure dressed in a flowing red gown that brushed the floor, hugging her alluring figure and drawing every eye to her curves. Feng Wutong's beauty was flawless, radiant like living flame.
What was surprising was that her long ponytail, once tied high, now cascaded down to her waist, softening her usually sharp gaze with a hint of feminine grace.
"You're here, Wutong." Dai Yao smiled, pulling another book from the shelf, The Differences Between Beast Spirits and Tool Spirits.
"It's time to eat, Master," Feng Wutong said with a gentle smile, holding a lunch box, her demeanor so soft that none would suspect she was one of Spirit Hall's most formidable women.
"Of course," Dai Yao said, absentmindedly skimming the table of contents as he answered.
She watched him patiently, waiting until he finished before she led him to the library's dining area.
From nearby, a group of young men occasionally glanced in their direction. Judging by their attire, they were all of noble or wealthy birth, and their presence there suggested they were not in the library for study. The sight of Feng Wutong, so gentle and attentive to Dai Yao, left them utterly stunned.
"Li Gongzi, is that the same Feng Wutong who's never given any man a second look? And now she's doting on that guy!" sneered one slender young man, unable to conceal his jealousy.
Feng Wutong's beauty was known throughout Spirit Hall. With two Titled Douluo as her mentors, she was practically an opportunity for any man to elevate himself instantly. Sure, this golden-haired guy looked decent, but he couldn't believe Feng Wutong would care only about looks.
Li Gongzi, a youth with a dark gaze fixed on Dai Yao, muttered darkly. From the moment he saw Feng Wutong, he had vowed to win her heart. Her cold indifference toward every man, including himself, had only intensified his determination.
To have her warmth solely for himself, while every other man met her with ice—that was the allure of Feng Wutong. But why was this man with her now?
After hearing rumors of Feng Wutong's sudden interest in another man, he had come to verify it. The result had shocked him.
"My grandfather is an eighty-ninth level Spirit Douluo, just a step away from Titled Douluo," Li Gongzi thought, gripping his fist tightly. "Once he attains the title, I'll be a perfect match for Feng Wutong."
"But this man must disappear."
However, Li Gongzi was cautious, pushing down his anger and turning to his friends. "Have you identified the man with Wutong?"
The other youths glanced at each other nervously before replying, "Li Gongzi, we looked into him, but it's as if he appeared out of nowhere. No one has any records of him."
"We even showed his image to people with good information within the Hall, but no one recognizes him."
"So he's likely some nobody who just recently joined Spirit Hall," he muttered, eyes narrowed.
Since joining Spirit Hall, Dai Yao had lived quietly, and Bibi Dong had kept his identity under wraps. Only high-ranking individuals knew of him, and the two Titled Douluo supporting Feng Wutong had hidden her new status as well. As a result, Li Gongzi and his group were unaware of Dai Yao's position.
Clenching his fist, Li Gongzi's gaze darkened as he thought to himself, "A nobody isn't worthy of her. I'll be doing her a favor by taking him out of the picture."
He smiled darkly, "Ah, I'm so considerate."
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