The halls of the city library were striking to the eye. The floor was paved with gleaming white marble, while the walls were covered in polished jade, engraved with various intricate figures and motifs. Tall bookshelves stretched high toward the ceiling, filled with books, scrolls, and manuals. Even though he couldn't read Mandarin, he could still tell what most of them were—he had seen enough Xianxia to recognize cultivation manuals, technique scrolls, and old sect records.
"Is there anything to your liking, O great immortal?"
The soft, polite voice came from behind him. It belonged to the head librarian—Zhíâ Xìn, a woman in her late thirties. She was quite beautiful, the kind of graceful elegance often described in books about ancient Asian beauties. She wore flowing robes of fine blue silk, her long black hair pinned up neatly in an elaborate bun.
He glanced at Zhíâ Xìn.
"Depends... Is everything here like it was before the dragon burned it all down?" he asked, wanting to confirm whether things had been fully restored or not. The feather—[Tear of Laima]—could usually restore up to ninety percent of what was lost, with only a one percent chance of complete, one-hundred-percent restoration.
Fortunately, all the people had returned, as the City Lord had already confirmed the numbers. Most of the buildings, along with their interiors, were also back in place.
Now, he only hoped that all the scrolls, books, and manuals had returned as well.
"As far as everything appears, all has been restored just as it was before being burned by the flames of that Great Red Dragon," Zhíâ Xìn said respectfully.
"Great Red Dragon, eh? There was nothing 'great' about that dragon I killed… The only thing great about him was how greatly he disappointed me."
"That's understandable. You are an immortal, after all. Though, I must say something—I've never seen a qi like yours before. It's mysterious… and feels very unnatural. I'm sure everyone else has the same thought, but they're likely too afraid to say it aloud. They wouldn't want to incur your wrath."
"Oh? And you aren't?"
"No, I very much am," she replied honestly. "But I'm also someone whose curiosity gets the better of her. So—forgive me—a thousand apologies." She gave him a deep, respectful bow.
He paused for a moment, wondering whether he should tell her that what she—and the others—were sensing wasn't qi at all, but mana. Should he explain it? Or not?
For the time being, he decided it was best not to reveal the existence of magic.
"Let's just say it's my deep secret," he said. "However, I will tell you this—I'm no immortal."
"Huh… what do you mean you're not an immortal?" Zhíâ Xìn asked, blinking in confusion.
"What is immortality to you?"
"Possessing the power to extend one's life to indefinite lengths… so that age can't claim them?"
"That's not what immortality means," he replied, his voice calm but sharp. "A true immortal is someone whose existence cannot be ended by death—someone who can only be destroyed by being completely erased from existence. If a being can still die by any method other than total annihilation, then they're not truly immortal."
He continued, "Take me, for example. I come from a species that has no concept of age. We don't die of old age—we can live for eternity unless we're killed. We can experience death, pain, loss… but time itself does not erode us."
He was about to go on, but then his eyes suddenly caught something—the engravings along the high ceiling.
Four figures.
Huh? Isn't that…?
His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized them—four great symbols, each carved onto a different wall.
The Azure Dragon
The Vermilion Bird
The White Tiger
The Black Tortoise
I wasn't expecting to see the Four Symbols here…
His gaze snapped back to the librarian.
"How much information does this library has about the four symbols?"
Zhíâ Xìn followed his gaze and answered in a calm tone, "Not much. The more detailed records about the Four Symbols are stored in the Grand Library within the imperial capital. But from what I know, they are divine beasts—embodiments of the four cardinal directions, the core elements, the four seasons, and certain heavenly principles."
Her answer didn't satisfy him.
What she said was basic lore—nothing more than what could be found in the game's codex. The Four Symbols were a core part of Chinese mythology, and they had also appeared in the MMORPG he played. Their designs here looked a bit different, sure—but the lore matched word for word.
And that wasn't what he wanted.
He didn't care about surface-level mythology. He wanted the deeper details—their behavior, their true nature, their dispositions, their abilities. Were they like the versions he'd fought in the game, or were these something entirely new—perhaps more dangerous?
And most importantly—what were their level caps?
In the game, the Four Symbols were Level 130—not final bosses, but mid-to-late-game raid bosses, each with deadly, signature abilities that could wipe out entire teams if handled poorly.
But here?
What if these versions were stronger?
Level 140?
150?
Or even beyond?
It seems I've just added new potential candidates to my ever-growing list of existential threats… how wonderful.
"Is the Grand Library accessible to all?" he asked.
Zhíâ Xìn bowed deeply, folding her hands in a gesture of utmost respect. "The Grand Library only permits access to those of high noble birth, or individuals of considerable prestige… of which, sadly, I possess neither. I'm afraid I cannot help you in this matter."
"Hm," he remained silent for a while before speaking again. "Tell the city lord to gather some children—around the age of ten to fifteen—in the city square tomorrow morning."
"May I ask the reason?"
"Simple. I just want to play a quiz game with them," he replied with a casual smile. "I'll ask a few questions about cultivation. Those who score the highest will receive a grand prize from me."
But in truth, that wasn't the real reason.
It was a ploy.
He intended to use the quiz as a means to extract information—using the children as his unknowing informants. If he admitted outright that he knew nothing about the cultivation system of this world, the adults—especially the elites—might withhold or distort the truth. But no one would suspect anything from a harmless, playful game with children.
And once news of a "grand prize" spread, the flames of greed and ambition would surely rise in the hearts of parents—especially those from cultivation families. They would make sure their children memorized everything: realms, stages, dantian formations, sect rules—anything that could give them an edge.
"I see… I shall inform Lady Biáshí," Zhíâ Xìn responded.
"Well then, I suppose that's enough for now," he said casually, turning toward the exit before walking out of the library.
Outside, people on the streets paused to watch him pass. He ignored their stares and soared into the sky, flying swiftly toward the city lord's mansion where he would be staying.
But among the many eyes watching him, one gaze lingered more than the rest—a small brown-haired girl sitting quietly atop a wooden crate, her eyes fixed on him as he vanished into the deepening hues of the evening sky.