The figure before him wasn't tall. In fact, he was rather lean, almost wiry, and at the moment his back was hunched, sneaking about in the shadows like a rat. If there were ever a portrait of a stereotypical thief, this man would fit the frame perfectly.
In this particular sequence, the system hadn't restricted Jun Ruoshui's skills. Without hesitation, he pressed his left hand into a rapid series of seals—one, two, three—and released a binding technique.
A streak of green light shot from Ruoshui's palm, splintering into six bright points. Each one buried itself into the thief's body—his wrists, his ankles, his waist, and even his forehead.
The man froze instantly, locked in place mid-step. His posture remained comical, one foot raised, his back still bent as though creeping forward, but utterly immobile now.
Ruoshui blinked. That was… easier than expected.
But the moment the figure realized he couldn't move, he began wailing with indignation.
"Oi, oi, oi! Who dares sneak up on your Grandpa Dian? Release me this instant, you little brat!"
Ruoshui walked closer, studying the man's face.
He wore his hair tied into a thin braid that dangled behind his head. His robe was black, but embroidered with odd red circles, some large, some small. His face was narrow and bony, with a short goatee sprouting from his chin, and just above the right corner of his mouth sat a rather noticeable mole.
No wonder he called himself Grandpa Dian. The title oddly suited him.
The man huffed and barked again, "Hey, boy! Stop staring and get rid of this spell already!"
Ruoshui raised an eyebrow. "You sneak around in the middle of the night, skulking like a common thief. Why exactly should I let you go?"
"Thief? Thief!? Nonsense! How dare you insult your Grandpa Dian! I—Qi Yidian—am the Heaven-appointed Keeper of Hidden Tomes, chosen by the Star of Literary Grace itself! My sole duty is to collect the writings of mortals across the world. How could a noble office such as mine be compared to common cutpurses or bandits?"
As he ranted, Qi Yidian muttered inwardly. Where did this brat come from? I was certain I used a Urge-to-Update Talisman earlier. Even the lofty Golden Immortals should be snoozing soundly right now. How is he unaffected?
Of course, the system had its own logic—Jun Ruoshui was a player. In-game talismans like that simply didn't work on him.
Ruoshui narrowed his eyes. The man's claim was grand, perhaps too grand. Still, he asked cautiously, "If you really hold such a title, do you have proof? And another thing—what spell did you cast to keep the entire household asleep despite such commotion?"
Qi Yidian's brows twitched. Proof?
Of course he had proof. An official identification plaque was issued to every Keeper of Hidden Tomes. Unfortunately… he hadn't brought it tonight.
Who in their right mind carries identification around all the time? he grumbled silently. It's not as if I need it. My face is well-known across the realms. Everyone—demons, deities, cultivators alike—shows me respect wherever I go. And now this brat doesn't even recognize me? Worse, he dares immobilize me!
He shifted slightly, grimacing. The immobilizing posture wasn't kind to his aging back.
At last he said, "Boy, relax. I merely used a minor charm to ensure everyone enjoyed a sounder sleep. Nothing harmful. As for identification… I regret to say I didn't bring it today."
His eyes lit up as he thought of an alternative. "But! Once you release this spell, I can take you to the Tianquan Star Pavilion. You've surely heard of it, no? A library where every text under heaven is gathered—ancient, modern, celestial, mortal. Tales, poems, sagas, scriptures. Anything you can imagine, you'll find there. What do you say?"
Ruoshui hesitated. The man's words sounded too convenient. Still, the system's difficulty settings rarely allowed coincidences. Someone like this Qi Yidian must be tied to the main questline.
Besides, this residence was guarded by the divine beast Suanni. No ordinary fiend dared approach with such a guardian nearby. And since the beast hadn't shown itself to attack, perhaps it knew this so-called Grandpa Dian.
Indeed, Suanni did. The first time Qi Yidian appeared, Suanni had leapt out, roaring, nearly scaring the old Keeper half to death. But afterward, realizing the Keeper's visits were harmless—merely to collect writings—Suanni chose to tolerate him. On one condition: the Keeper was to tread lightly, cause no disturbances, and reveal nothing of Suanni's presence here.
Thus, the divine beast slumbered on, unconcerned.
Still, Ruoshui was not fully convinced. "Your words alone aren't enough. If I release you, what stops you from running off immediately?"
Qi Yidian sighed dramatically, then straightened his expression and declared, "Very well. I, Qi Yidian, Keeper of Hidden Tomes, swear upon my title before Heaven itself! I vow to escort this young man, Jun Ruoshui, to the Tianquan Star Pavilion tonight. Should I break this oath, may the Fivefold Thunder strike me down!"
The moment his words fell, the heavens responded. Dark clouds swirled overhead, thunder rumbled, and the vast weight of celestial law pressed down upon the world.
Then, silence.
Heavenly oaths were no trivial matter. Especially for immortals who carried divine offices—such vows were binding.
Ruoshui blinked, startled. He hadn't expected the man to go so far. Quickly he dispelled the immobilization, then offered a respectful bow. "Forgive my ignorance, Senior. I never intended to trouble you into making such a grave oath."
Qi Yidian waved it off, massaging his sore waist. "Bah, think nothing of it. Hardly worth mentioning."
This boy's definitely new to the world, he thought smugly. He's probably never seen an oath ceremony before. Truth be told, the spectacle looks impressive, but it's more bark than bite. Half the so-called 'high-quality men' out there use heavenly vows to trick gullible maidens. Haven't seen any of them struck dead yet.
Just then, the system chimed in mockingly:
[Rumor has it the thunder gods are too addicted to online games these days to bother enforcing contracts. The oath ceremony is just an automated formation. Otherwise, with how many contracts are broken every year, the skies would be littered with charred corpses.]
Ruoshui couldn't help but chuckle.
Meanwhile, Qi Yidian muttered, "Tch, wasted enough time already. I've still got manuscripts to collect tonight." He turned to enter the house but froze mid-step.
His eyes widened, and he spun back to Ruoshui, fumbling through his robe. From within he pulled a palm-sized jade slip etched with cloud patterns. As he read the glowing words upon it, his expression grew increasingly animated.
"Ah! Nearly forgot!" He slapped his forehead. Then he looked up sharply. "You're Jun Ruoshui, yes?"
Ruoshui nodded slowly. "That's right. I am."
Qi Yidian's lips twitched. "Well, I'll be damned. If fate didn't just throw you right into my lap, I might've delayed this matter entirely. Hah! Fortunate indeed."
Ruoshui: "…"
Watching the eccentric old man mumble to himself as he shuffled into the house, Ruoshui couldn't shake the sense that this so-called Keeper might not be the most reliable figure after all.
Inside, Qi Yidian strode to a writing desk. From his robe, he drew out a peculiar item—a silvery ring, luminous and liquid-like, glimmering with its own inner light.
Placing it above the manuscript, the characters on the page shimmered as though reflected upon water. One by one, lines of text appeared within the circle, lingered briefly, then dissolved, making way for the next. In moments, the entire manuscript had been reproduced.
Ruoshui's jaw slackened. A magical photocopier?
Catching his amazement, Qi Yidian explained with pride, "This is the Ink-Reflecting Ring, a tool every Keeper of Hidden Tomes must carry. It copies words directly, saving us the trouble of transcribing by hand."
He lowered his voice, face turning grave. "This artifact is no trinket. Should it fall into the wrong hands, the consequences would be disastrous. Not long ago, a careless Keeper lost one. Someone found it, used the stored celestial scriptures, and sold them for profit. Worse, classified secrets of Heaven spread into the mortal realm, shaking all three domains."
He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed.
The system snickered again: [Yes, yes, do try not to lose another one, Grandpa Dian.]
Ruoshui's doubts deepened.
With great care, Qi Yidian tucked the artifact away. Then he pressed a hand onto Ruoshui's shoulder. "Close your eyes, boy. We're off to the Pavilion."
To his credit, despite his eccentricities, Qi Yidian kept his word. He could have abandoned Ruoshui here, but honor still bound him.
Ruoshui obeyed, shutting his eyes. A rush of wind roared in his ears. His feet lifted from the ground, his body soaring as though through mist and cloud. In mere moments, solid earth returned beneath his soles.
He opened his eyes—and gasped.
Before him towered a majestic pavilion. Three stories tall, neither ostentatious nor humble, its architecture was dignified, serene. Above, the stars of the Big Dipper blazed brilliantly, each casting its unique hue. The azure light of Tianquan itself gleamed brightest, mirroring the gem at the pavilion's peak.
A gilded plaque hung above the entrance. The words carved upon it glowed fiercely: Tianquan Star Pavilion. The strokes were bold, heroic, carrying a spirit that seemed ready to sweep injustice from the world.
Qi Yidian released his grip. "Here we are. Enter freely, but keep your voice low. Should you meet the Pavilion Master, mind your manners. I have work to do and cannot accompany you further."
With that, he vanished into the wind.
Ruoshui exhaled. "Truly comes and goes like a storm. For all his quirks, at least he's dutiful."
He stepped lightly into the pavilion.
The scent of books enveloped him instantly—aged paper, fresh ink, the fragrance of knowledge itself. The first floor resembled the base of a great well. From here, one could look upward to the second level, where rows upon rows of shelves lined the railing.
On this ground floor, books were piled like mountains. Most were incomplete volumes—thin, coverless, unfinished. Some contained only a title page and a few scattered sheets. Their covers were dull gray, lying quietly in corners like forgotten dreams.
Yet some of those gray covers shimmered faintly, brightening with color. Others had already blossomed into vibrant hues, lifting from the ground. These sprouted back covers of their own and drifted upward, joining the shelves of the second floor.
Curious, Ruoshui followed one such floating book up the stairs. He watched as it slotted itself neatly into place among the shelves.
The shelves themselves varied. Some were ancient, carved wood with centuries of history. Others looked strikingly modern, no different from those in a mundane library.
And on those modern shelves—Ruoshui's heart leapt—lay the martial arts epics he knew so well. Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils. Twin Dragons of the Tang. The Adventures of Lu Xiaofeng.
He ran his fingers along their spines reverently. These authors had sculpted generations of heroes with their words, immortalizing the very essence of chivalry.
Turning, he approached the oldest, most weathered shelf. Upon it lay a single text—not bound pages, but bamboo strips tied into a scroll.
He squinted at the ancient characters until at last he discerned the title: Biographies of Wandering Knights. The origin, the very ancestor of martial tales.
Beyond it, shelves grew progressively newer. A New Account of the Tales of the World. The Tale of Nie Yinniang. Water Margin. The Seven Heroes and Five Gallants. Step by step through history, the legacy of xia unfolded before him. By the time he reached modern shelves, the sheer abundance of titles was staggering.
Clearly, though dynasties rose and fell, the human heart's yearning for the way of the knight never waned.
Ruoshui climbed to the third floor. Passing behind a screen painted with rivers and mountains, he entered a tea hall. Upon the far wall hung a single character: Xia—Knight. Its brushwork matched the bold strokes on the pavilion's plaque.
Before it sat an elderly man in scholar's robes, hair and beard white yet spirit undimmed. His gaze was sharp, his bearing suffused with righteous vigor.
Ruoshui straightened instinctively. This must be the Pavilion Master himself.