Halfway up Qingyun Peak.
A pavilion stood in quiet solitude, its upturned eaves and interlocking brackets exuding an air of ancient elegance.
The passage of time had left deep marks on its wooden frame and peeling lacquer, lending it an even greater sense of weight and mystery.
Above the entrance hung a plaque.
The three bold characters reading "Cultivation Technique Pavilion" shimmered faintly with a flowing spiritual radiance.
Anyone who looked upon it could not help but feel a sense of reverence.
The disciples passing through here were noticeably fewer, and each one wore a solemn expression, moving with measured steps and speaking not a word above a whisper.
Chen Yang took a deep breath, straightened his plain robes, and stepped toward the pavilion's entrance.
At the doorway.
Seated in an old rattan chair.
An elderly man with snow-white hair and beard, his face creased with wrinkles like the bark of an ancient tree, sat with his eyes half-closed in a drowsy doze.
Hearing footsteps approach, he didn't even lift his eyelids — he simply extended one withered, bony hand in a lazy gesture.
Chen Yang understood immediately. He quickly retrieved the smooth, warm inner disciple jade token from his chest and offered it respectfully.
The old man took the jade token, ran a fingertip lightly across its surface, and a barely perceptible flash of light passed over it.
Only then did he open his cloudy eyes a sliver, glancing at Chen Yang with a voice as rough as sandpaper:
"A newly promoted inner disciple? Quite an unfamiliar face. Register yourself."
He gestured toward a yellowed ledger and a writing brush on the table beside him.
Chen Yang did as instructed, picking up the brush and writing his name and the day's date on the latest page of the ledger.
The old man took back the jade token, returned it to Chen Yang, and said unhurriedly:
"The rules are simple. As a newly admitted inner disciple, you may select one cultivation technique from this pavilion to practice. All techniques are recorded in jade slips — they cannot be taken away, and they cannot be duplicated. Once you have chosen a slip, bring it to me and I will lift the restriction on it for you."
Chen Yang nodded to show he understood, his gaze drifting involuntarily toward the interior of the pavilion.
Inside, rows of ancient wooden shelves stretched before him.
Neatly arranged upon them were hundreds of jade slips of varying colors, each emitting a faint, soft glow. Chen Yang couldn't help but silently marvel at the depth of the sect's heritage.
He couldn't resist asking: "Senior, may I only select one?"
The old man's drooping eyelids twitched upward, and he let out a grunt:
"Biting off more than you can chew helps no one. The first and second floors — you may browse one jade slip each. However…"
He paused, his tone carrying a barely concealed note of disdain:
"The crude wares on the first floor are probably beneath you, given your current cultivation as an inner disciple."
Chen Yang could only suppress his thoughts and nod:
"This disciple understands. I will choose carefully."
"Mm."
The old man closed his eyes again, waved a hand, and said:
"Go on in. You have six hours to make your selection. Don't be late."
Chen Yang bowed with cupped fists and stepped inside the Cultivation Technique Pavilion.
The light within was soft and diffuse, carrying a mingled scent of aged parchment and faint spirit-wood.
He began by strolling slowly through the first floor.
Just as the old man had said, the jade slips on the first floor mostly emitted weak ripples of spiritual energy, and the names labeled beside them were things like "Stone-Shattering Fist," "Drifting Cloud Palm," "Water Condensation Art," and "Flame Gathering Technique."
These were all methods that simply channeled spiritual energy into one's fists and feet or condensed it into basic elemental blasts — perhaps sufficient for Outer Sect Disciples.
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But for Chen Yang, who had trained in the Nine Revolutions Body Tempering Art and witnessed the power of the Flying Sword gifted to him by Shen Hongmei, they were indeed far too rudimentary.
"I need more refined spell techniques. I can't rely on brute force and close-quarters combat forever. And I must also master a technique for aerial sword-riding — the sixth level of the Qi Refinement Realm is sufficient to begin cultivating it."
Chen Yang turned these thoughts over in his mind as his gaze drifted toward the wooden staircase leading to the second floor.
There was no physical barrier at the staircase entrance, but as he stepped upward, he clearly felt the jade token at his waist grow faintly warm, and an invisible wave swept across his body — seemingly a recognition restriction.
Without an inner disciple jade token, one would likely be stopped immediately, or worse, suffer a backlash.
The second floor was slightly smaller than the first.
The shelves and jade slips were fewer in number as well.
But the spiritual light emanating from each slip was visibly more lustrous and concentrated.
The floor was completely empty of people, utterly quiet, with only the sound of his own footsteps and breathing.
He slowed his pace and examined the slips one by one.
"Wind Blade Technique," "Earth Spike Art," "Golden Light Shield," "Vine Binding Technique"…
The variety of spell techniques and Divine Abilities was vast, considerably more refined than those on the first floor, and his eyes dazzled at the sight of them.
Before long, his gaze was drawn to a pale blue jade slip.
The Soaring Wind Sword-Riding Art.
"A sword-riding art?"
Chen Yang's heart stirred — this was precisely what he needed most right now!
He immediately focused his attention and sensed the brief description beside the jade slip:
This art is a foundational method for controlling a Flying Sword. It can be cultivated at the sixth level of the Qi Refinement Realm. It allows the practitioner to manipulate a Flying Sword through the air using spiritual energy, as naturally as directing one's own arm. When mastered to a deeper level, one can use it to wound enemies while riding the Flying Sword, and it can also slightly increase the speed of sword-riding.
"This is the one!"
Chen Yang's heart leapt with joy, and he was about to reach for it.
But soon, a slight frown crossed his brow.
The technique sounded promising, but the description was too vague, and it was only a foundational method.
He instinctively touched his Storage Bag, inside which rested four sharp Flying Swords with their markings ground away, along with the original Flying Sword gifted to him by Shen Hongmei.
He had a nagging feeling that using the Soaring Wind Sword-Riding Art to drive those swords — which were clearly no ordinary items — would be somewhat… like fitting a large peg into a small hole. It would fail to fully unleash the Flying Swords' true power.
Like using a young calf to pull a heavy plow.
Laborious and thankless.
"Is there truly nothing better?"
Unwilling to settle, he continued wandering among the shelves in search of a more compatible sword-riding technique or a more powerful offensive spell.
Just as he was fully absorbed in his search, an extremely faint sound of footsteps drifted up from the staircase.
Chen Yang looked up alertly.
He saw a young man dressed in a snow-white long robe, with delicate features and an apparent age of around sixteen or seventeen, ascending the stairs to the second floor at an unhurried pace.
The youth had a clean, refined air about him, a faint and barely-there smile at the corners of his lips, and clear, bright eyes — which met Chen Yang's gaze at that very moment.
The youth paused for a brief moment.
Then he gave Chen Yang a friendly nod and smile in greeting.
Seeing that the other person was also dressed as an inner disciple and carried a calm, unassuming aura, Chen Yang nodded back in return and thought nothing more of it, lowering his head to continue examining the jade slips.
The White-Robed Youth seemed to have no interest whatsoever in the jade slips on the second floor — his gaze didn't even sweep toward the shelves. Instead, he walked directly toward the far end of the second floor, heading straight for the staircase leading up to the third floor!
Chen Yang caught this from the corner of his eye, and his heart lurched with sudden alarm!
He clearly remembered the stern warning from the old man at the door — the third floor was not to be entered freely, or one would be reduced to ash and smoke!
Watching the youth approach without any apparent caution, about to set foot on the steps leading to the third floor, Chen Yang almost instinctively blurted out:
"Watch out!"
The youth's footsteps halted. He turned back toward Chen Yang with a puzzled look, one eyebrow slightly raised:
"Watch out? Watch out for what?"
Chen Yang pointed at the staircase entrance — which appeared empty but gave him an unsettling sense of danger — and said gravely:
"The senior guardian at the door said there is a powerful restriction on the third floor. Disciples must not enter without permission, or… something terrible will happen."
"A restriction? Reduced to ash and smoke?"
The White-Robed Youth's expression grew even more puzzled at this. He tilted his head and studied the staircase entrance, then even extended a finger and probed forward into it.
Chen Yang's heart leapt into his throat.
Yet the youth's finger passed through the area with ease, and nothing happened at all.
He even waved his hand back and forth through it.
Hm?
The youth withdrew his hand and looked at Chen Yang with a light smile:
"This is just the most ordinary kind of light screen — the kind that blocks sight and detection. It doesn't even qualify as a protective Formation, let alone a restriction. And it certainly couldn't reduce anyone to ash and smoke."
"Ah?"
Chen Yang was completely stunned. Looking at the youth standing there perfectly unharmed, then recalling the stern expression on the old man's face, he couldn't quite process what was happening.
The youth looked at his dazed expression and suddenly smiled, asking in a relaxed tone:
"What's the matter? Do you want to go up and have a look?"
Chen Yang nodded instinctively — he was indeed filled with curiosity about that mysterious third floor.
It was a place even inner disciples were forbidden from entering. What level of cultivation techniques could possibly be stored within?
"Then come on up."
The youth said it as a matter of course, as casually as if he were inviting a friend for a stroll through his own backyard.
"Isn't the whole point of a cultivator's path to achieve clarity of mind and freedom of will? If something is in your heart, go and try it — why hesitate and hold yourself back with so many worries?"
These words struck Chen Yang like the clear ring of a bell.
He looked at the jade slip of the Soaring Wind Sword-Riding Art in his hand, then looked at the staircase leading to the third floor — which now seemed to hold no danger at all.
In the end, his overwhelming curiosity and the youth's carefree words won out over the warning.
He slowly placed the jade slip back on the shelf, thinking to himself: "I'll just go up for a look. If there's any real danger, I'll retreat immediately — it won't be too late to come back and choose the sword-riding art then."
His mind made up, he hesitated no longer. He stepped forward and followed the White-Robed Youth, who had already set foot on the stairs.