The Blazing Ember Sword was secured at Fang Lin's waist when Elder Baishan turned and walked deeper into the repository.
"Come," he said. "The sword is only half of your reward."
Fang Lin followed closely.
A narrow staircase appeared behind a concealed wooden door. Unlike the first floor, which was filled with metallic aura and sword intent, the air here felt quiet—as if sound itself was being suppressed.
They ascended.
The moment Fang Lin stepped onto the second floor, his breathing slowed unconsciously.
This place was different.
There were no swords.
Instead, rows of jade shelves stood neatly arranged, each holding ancient manuals sealed in bamboo scrolls, leather-bound books, and jade tablets. Dim spiritual lamps floated in the air, casting a soft blue glow that made the runes on the manuals flicker faintly.
"This is the Manual Selection Hall," Elder Baishan said calmly.
"All sword techniques, movement arts, and cultivation scriptures suitable for the Mortal Martial Realm are stored here."
Fang Lin's eyes widened slightly.
"So many…" he murmured.
Elder Baishan nodded.
"But do not be greedy," he added. "You may choose only one manual. Quality matters more than quantity."
As Fang Lin stepped forward to manuel.
*********
The night wind whispered through the trees.
Tian Wuyan moved through the forest like a shadow, his figure appearing and vanishing between branches. With a light step, he landed on a thick tree limb and paused, crouching like a silent predator.
From this height, the distant lights of the sect were barely visible.
His eyes narrowed.
I've already delivered the clan leader's message to the sect master…
But why did the clan leader make such a decision?
Wuyan frowned slightly.
Fang Lin.
An A-grade aptitude awakening from the Fang family—something that should not have happened. The clan leader's reaction had been calm on the surface, yet the order itself carried weight.
"To keep an eye on him…" Wuyan murmured under his breath.
After a brief pause, his body melted into the darkness once more, moving toward the sect like a wandering ghost.
******
At the same time—
Inside the Sword Repository, on the second floor, Elder Baishan stood silently among the manuals.
His thoughts were just as heavy.
The message Wuyan brought…
The clan leader wants Fang Lin to be watched closely.
Baishan's brows furrowed.
It is the clan leader's decision. I cannot oppose it.
He slowly turned, his gaze drifting toward the staircase as if Fang Lin were still nearby.
"But who should I send…" he murmured.
After a moment, his expression shifted.
"…My granddaughter."
A faint glint appeared in his eyes.
She hasn't been cultivating the family techniques properly anyway.
Perhaps this is a good opportunity—for her to truly learn what assassination means.
The torchlight flickered.
********
The Refinement Courtyard remained quiet under the pale moonlight.
Spiritual mist drifted slowly across the stone floor, curling gently around a lone figure seated at the center.
Chu Jingxia.
She sat cross-legged, her posture straight, hands resting lightly on her knees as she attempted to guide spiritual energy through her meridians. Her breathing was steady, controlled—yet the flow of energy remained stubborn, refusing to fully align.
A faint crease appeared between her brows.
Just as she adjusted her breathing—
"Ah—choo!"
The sudden sneeze broke the stillness.
Jingxia froze, then slowly opened her eyes. The refined rhythm she had been trying to maintain completely scattered.
She raised a hand and lightly rubbed the tip of her nose, looking slightly annoyed.
"…Strange," she murmured softly.
Her gaze shifted toward the moonlit sky above the courtyard.
"It feels like someone is thinking about me a little too seriously," she said to herself, half-joking, half-confused.
A gentle breeze passed through the courtyard, rustling the nearby bamboo.
Unaware that her grandfather had just decided her role in an unfolding plan, Chu Jingxia straightened her back once more and closed her eyes again—trying to return to refinement.
But for some reason, her heart felt slightly unsettled.
********
Fang Lin slowly scanned the rows of manuals, his eyes moving from one shelf to another.
'I've read many cultivation novels, he thought.
In those stories, the main character gets a manual and learns how to fight from it.'
A faint smile appeared on his face.
'Now I've been given the same chance… but which one should I choose?
There are so many—strike types, fire, cold, and many other things I don't even understand.'
He frowned slightly.
'I can't keep asking Elder Baishan again and again…'
A strange thought suddenly crossed his mind.
If only I had a system…
He froze for a moment, then his expression changed.
"…Wait," he muttered softly. "How did I forget about that?"
His thoughts began to race.
'Whenever an MC transmigrates, they usually get a system.
Then why didn't I get one?'
He clenched his fist lightly.
Is it because of that dream-like situation?
Because I wasn't fully transmigrated—only half?
The thought unsettled him.
'Or maybe… this world doesn't even have systems.
I've read novels where the MC grows without any system at all.'
After thinking for a while, he let out a quiet breath.
"…Forget it," Fang Lin said softly. "What does that matter now?"
He walked closer to a section where several book-like manuals were placed neatly.
Stopping there, he reached out.
"These…" he murmured.
He picked up a few of the manuals, glancing at them one by one.
"…these three feel a bit better."
And with that, Fang Lin held them in his hands, preparing to make his choice on his own.
The manuals Fang Lin had picked up were all different in nature.
He placed them one by one on the nearby wooden table, his gaze calm but focused.
The first manual was titled Void Severance Strike.
The cover was plain, without any glow or aura. Simple characters were carved on it, yet they gave Fang Lin a strange feeling—clean, decisive, as if everything unnecessary had been cut away.
He flipped through a few pages.
"This one…" Fang Lin murmured in his mind, "…it's straightforward."
The manual described a single strike—no fancy movements, no continuous techniques. It focused on gathering power at one point and releasing it in a clean, absolute slash. No element was emphasized. No fire, no cold—only precision and intent.
Fang Lin paused.
For reasons he couldn't explain, his breathing slowed slightly while holding it.
He set it aside carefully.
The second manual was a fire-attributed strike technique. The descriptions were bold, explaining explosive movements and burning spiritual energy. It looked powerful, but also demanding—consuming a large amount of energy with every use.
The third manual focused on cold-type circulation, emphasizing control and restraint. It required long-term tempering of yin-aligned energy, something Fang Lin felt didn't completely match him.
He leaned back slightly, looking at all three manuals together.
"So many paths…" he thought.
His eyes slowly returned to the first one.
Void Severance Strike.
Fang Lin didn't pick it up again yet—but in his heart, he already knew.
This is the one I'll choose.
Not because it was flashy.
Not because it was powerful on paper.
But because it felt… right.
And in the quiet second floor of the Sword Repository, Fang Lin's path began to take a clearer shape—one choice at a time.
After making his decision, Fang Lin walked back toward Elder Baishan.
The manuals were held firmly in his hands, but his expression was calm—no hesitation, no excitement that overflowed.
"Elder Baishan," Fang Lin said respectfully, stopping a few steps away. "I've chosen my manual."
Elder Baishan turned his gaze toward him, slightly surprised by how quickly the decision had been made.
"Oh?" he said. "Show me."
Fang Lin stepped forward and presented the manual.
Void Severance Strike.
Elder Baishan's eyes paused on the title.
For a brief moment, he did not speak.
Then—he nodded.
"I see," he said calmly.
There was no disappointment in his voice. Instead, a faint trace of approval appeared in his eyes.
"Most disciples," Elder Baishan continued, "when given such an opportunity, immediately choose high-powered manuals. They want fast strength, quick results—something that makes them strong overnight."
He gently took the manual from Fang Lin's hands and glanced through a few pages.
"But this…" he murmured, looking back at Fang Lin, "…is different."
In his mind, Elder Baishan was already evaluating the choice.
'This kind of manual is suitable for a new cultivator, he thought.
It demands hard work and precise control, but it consumes very little essence.
Techniques like this are often better for those with limited attributes—or those who want a solid foundation.'
He closed the manual and handed it back.
"You chose well," Elder Baishan said plainly.
Fang Lin let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Remember this," Elder Baishan added. "A strong foundation lasts longer than borrowed power."
Fang Lin nodded deeply.
"I'll remember, Elder."
After a few hours—
Fang Lin arrived at the gates of the Fang family manor, carrying all the rewards he had received.
Beside him walked a guard sent by Elder Baishan. The man wore a black robe and moved with disciplined steps, holding Fang Lin's sword and manual with great care, as if they were precious treasures.
The tall wooden gates of the manor stood before them, lanterns hanging on either side and swaying gently in the night breeze.
Fang Lin stopped for a moment and looked up.
So I'm back…
The guard stepped forward slightly and spoke in a calm voice, "This is where I'll leave you."
He then carefully handed over the items to Fang Lin, his posture respectful.
"Elder Baishan instructed me to make sure these reach you safely."
Fang Lin accepted them with both hands.
"Thank you," he said.
With his rewards now in his possession, Fang Lin stood at the entrance of the Fang family manor.
Fang Lin looked toward the entrance of the Fang family manor.
Two guards stood at the gate, both wearing white robes, long spears held firmly in their hands as they guarded the entrance with disciplined expressions.
Standing not far from them was a girl dressed in deep green robes.
Her face was filled with tension and irritation, her brows tightly furrowed, as if she had been waiting for far too long.
She was none other than Ling'er.
She had been sent here to bring Fang Lin back—but instead, she had ended up waiting.
Her fingers clenched at her side, her impatience clear even before she spoke.
The moment Fang Lin appeared at the gate, her sharp gaze locked onto him.
Ling'er, unaware that Fang Lin was no longer the same person he used to be, let out all her pent-up frustration.
"Fang Lin, how did you get so late?" she snapped.
"Did it really take that long just to collect your rewards?"
She crossed her arms, clearly irritated.
"Come on, hurry up. I don't want to stand outside anymore. I want to sleep too."
Inside Fang Lin, Lingyi had already fallen unconscious due to exhaustion, leaving him without any guidance at that moment.
For a brief second, Fang Lin hesitated.
It took him a moment to recognize the girl in front of him.
"Oh… you're Ling'er, right?" he said apologetically.
"Sorry about that. Let's go now."
Ling'er huffed lightly and turned toward the manor, walking ahead without waiting.
Fang Lin followed behind her, quietly stepping through the gates of the Fang family manor—
Ling'er led Fang Lin straight to his room and stopped only when they reached the door.
Before leaving, she turned back and looked at him one more time.
"I need to inform them that you've returned," she said.
"And listen—there's a banquet tomorrow to celebrate your A-grade aptitude. So wake up early in the morning."
Fang Lin simply stood there, watching her.
He had no idea that so much was happening behind his back.
Without waiting for a response, Ling'er turned and walked away.
After she left, Fang Lin entered his room.
It was no longer the same room as before.
The blood that had once stained the floor was gone, replaced by clean stone and neatly arranged furniture. Everything had been thoroughly cleaned, as if nothing had ever happened.
He placed his rewards carefully on the table.
Then, without thinking much more, Fang Lin walked over to the bed and lay down.
His eyes slowly closed.
As if he didn't yet realize that this was no longer the only life he carried within him.