089 Umbral Scripture Hall

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89 Umbral Scripture Hall

The Shadow Clan had arranged for us to stay in the eastern wing, but everyone seemed far more interested in the library. The Umbral Scripture Hall had become our second home, a place where curiosity burned brighter than any lantern. As for me? I hadn’t left since we arrived.

I’d learned a lot, truly. The library wasn’t particularly rich in cultivation methods or techniques—most of what it offered paled in comparison to the gifts I had received from the Cloud Mist Sect, let alone the treasures I had picked up from Ren Jin’s Golden Sun Pavilion. But in terms of historical texts and general knowledge? This place was a goldmine.

Flipping through a worn tome, my eyes landed on a passage discussing the historical significance of black masks. I skimmed through the content. Before the Grand Emperor’s reign, masks had been more than mere disguises—they had signified status and power among certain cultivators.

A promising lead. I placed the book atop a growing pile, each volume holding some thread of connection to the enigmatic black-masked cultivators.

Nearby, Hei Mao sat with furrowed brows, his lips moving as he painstakingly traced words with his finger. Ren Xun knelt beside him, offering guidance with quiet patience. Hei Mao had made it his mission to uncover the truth behind the killers of his family, and learning to read was his first step toward that goal.

I watched them for a moment.

Hei Mao sat hunched over a scroll, his finger tracing unfamiliar characters as he struggled to piece them together. Across from him, Ren Xun watched with the patience of a seasoned teacher, though his arms were folded in what could only be described as suppressed frustration.

“Try again,” Ren Xun said, tapping the parchment. “That word. What does it mean?”

Hei Mao squinted at the brushstrokes, his lips moving silently before he hesitantly muttered, “Uh… ‘shade’?”

Ren Xun sighed. “No. That’s ‘darkness.’”

Hei Mao scowled. “They look the same.”

“To an illiterate fool, perhaps.”

Hei Mao glared at him, his fingers twitching as though resisting the urge to hurl the scroll across the room. “Then why don’t you read it?”

Ren Xun smirked, picking up another scroll. “I already did. Twice.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice mockingly. “Unlike someone, I happen to know how to read.”

Hei Mao ground his teeth but forced himself to focus. “Tch. I’ll get it eventually.”

Ren Xun leaned back, arms behind his head. “We’ll see. At this rate, the black-masked killers will have already died of old age before you learn to read their name.”

Hei Mao froze for half a breath, then exhaled sharply. “Not funny.”

Ren Xun’s smirk faded. He looked at the younger boy’s clenched fists and sighed. “It wasn’t meant to be.” He gestured to the scroll. “You want to learn, don’t you? Then don’t waste time glaring at me—read.”

“Ugh… You are so mean…” Hei Mao grumbled but lowered his gaze back to the parchment. This time, when he traced the words, he took his time, sounding them out carefully.

Ren Xun watched for a moment before nodding. “Better.”

At that, Hei Mao sat up a little straighter.

It made me wonder what Ren Xun was scheming, adopting a harsh persona… or maybe, he was just like that as a teacher. The nostalgia was rather refreshing though. I remembered teaching the same way…

“There’s really a lot of them,” muttered Lu Gao.

I turned to Lu Gao, who was flipping through a stack of scrolls with a furrowed brow. He had been helping with the research, though I had repeatedly insisted he should focus on mastering the Blessed Weapon spell instead.

“I thought I told you to concentrate on your training,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

Lu Gao merely shrugged. “I can do it in my own time, Master. Besides, I needed a break. I was stuck anyway.”

I sighed but let it go. If he wanted to contribute here, I wouldn’t stop him.

Across the hall, Dave was in his usual spot, his clunky armor making him look like a misplaced war puppet among the delicate scrolls and books. Despite the bulk of his form, he had become oddly meticulous in his research, carefully sifting through texts and taking notes—though I suspected part of his focus was just him getting used to the limitations of his new body.

Meanwhile, Gu Jie sat beside Ren Jingyi’s bowl, the two of them cultivating in silence. I had insisted they make the most of the spirit-rich environment, and for once, Gu Jie had found herself unable to argue against my reasoning.

She clutched a spirit stone tightly as she meditated, her breathing slow and measured. Ren Jingyi, on the other hand… well… she was nibbling on a spirit stone.

I paused mid-turn of a page, staring.

It was a strange sight—her fish body bobbing slightly as she bit into the glowing stone, as if she were snacking on some divine delicacy.

I decided to just accept it and turned back to my reading.

Ah! I finally found it. I knew they would have it.

The Shadow Clan had an undeniably rich history, their accumulation of knowledge deep and vast. This place held no shortage of mysteries, and if anything, the Umbral Scripture Hall was proof of that. I had spent days buried in texts, searching, flipping through scrolls and ancient tomes, and now—finally—I held in my hands a comprehensive record detailing the different realms of cultivation.

It didn’t describe how to achieve each realm, nor did it provide any cultivation techniques, but the organization of the information was impeccable. It clearly outlined the structure of the path, making it easier to understand how each realm built upon the previous one.

Cultivation was divided into four major states: The Four Great Attributes, The Three Cosmic Elements, The Trinity Celestial Paths, and The Godly Vessel.

The progression was straightforward. The First to Fourth Realms aligned with the Four Great Attributes, focusing on the foundational aspects of cultivation. The Fifth to Seventh Realms aligned with the Three Cosmic Elements, where one's connection to the greater forces of existence deepened. The Eighth to Tenth Realms aligned with the Trinity Celestial Paths, an esoteric stage that shaped the cultivator’s very destiny. And finally, the Eleventh Realm stood alone as The Godly Vessel, the pinnacle of cultivation.

It looked something like this:

The Four Great Attributes

Martial Tempering (1st Realm) → Foundation of the body, refining strength, endurance, and combat capabilities.

Mind Enlightenment (2nd Realm) → Awakening of the mind, broadening perception, and forming an internal connection to the world.

Will Reinforcement (3rd Realm) → Solidifying willpower, deepening one's spiritual resilience, and enhancing inner control.

Spirit Mystery (4th Realm) → The point where one's spirit begins to transcend the ordinary, stepping into the threshold of profound cultivation.

The Three Cosmic Elements

Soul Recognition (5th Realm) → Awareness and refinement of the soul, beginning the process of merging it with one's cultivation.

Essence Gathering (6th Realm) → Drawing upon and refining cosmic essence, deepening the harmony between body, spirit, and energy.

Bloodline Refinement (7th Realm) → The transformation of one’s bloodline, unlocking latent potential and stepping beyond mortal limits.

The Trinity Celestial Paths

Heart Path (8th Realm) → Walking the path of one’s Dao, solidifying one's beliefs and purpose.

World Path (9th Realm) → The cultivator’s existence begins to influence the world itself, stepping into a realm where they can shape reality.

Endless Path (10th Realm) → A step into the infinite, where one truly approaches the boundary between mortality and divinity.

The Godly Vessel

Perfect Immortal (11th Realm) → The final transformation, where one’s existence transcends all worldly limitations, becoming a true immortal.

I stared at the text for a long while, absorbing the structure of it all.

While I already had a vague understanding of how cultivation realms were divided, this classification was far more detailed and systematic than anything I had encountered before.

I leaned back, rubbing my temples. This information was valuable, but it didn’t exactly provide a direct solution to our current predicament. Still, knowing the structure of cultivation was useful. Who knew? Perhaps it would help me later.

It made me wonder—where exactly did I stand in these cultivation realms?

Since arriving in this world, the thought had crossed my mind more than once. As a max-level Paladin, I had confidence in my strength, but how far would that confidence carry me? In the end, numbers meant nothing here. This wasn’t a game. My power came from divine blessings, but at what level did it compare to this world's cultivation?

I had yet to meet an opponent who truly pushed me to my limits. The closest I had come to that was my battle against the fragment of a Heavenly Demon—a fight that had been difficult only because I had been handicapped. Without my divine authority at full capacity, I was unable to perform at my peak ability. That wasn’t a proper measure of my strength.

Could I stand against a World Path cultivator? Or an Endless Path one? The Perfect Immortal realm was the pinnacle, but I had no way of knowing where I fell on that scale. The thought gnawed at me.

As I turned another page, the sound of soft footsteps came to a halt in front of me.

I looked up.

It was a girl, probably around Lu Gao’s age, clad in the dark robes of the Shadow Clan. Her short, dark hair framed a delicate face—pretty, but unremarkable. Her eyes, however, carried a glint of unease, as if she was struggling with something internally.

I raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

She exhaled slowly, as if steeling herself, then suddenly lowered her head and bowed—a perfect ninety-degree bow.

Silence fell over the library. The quiet rustling of pages ceased, and I felt the weight of curious gazes turning toward us.

Then, in a voice that quivered between restraint and compulsion, she spoke:

“This one… humbly seeks forgiveness.”

Her tone was stiff, as though she had to force the words out.

I rested my chin on my hand, watching her. “Forgiveness for what?”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “For offenses committed… both deliberate and unintended,” she said slowly, as if choosing each word with excruciating care. "For the disrespect shown. For—" she hesitated, struggling, before gritting her teeth and bowing her head lower. "For matters of the past that cannot be undone."

There was no direct mention of what exactly she had done. No confession. No plea. Just vague, formalized words carefully strung together to avoid losing too much face.

I could see it clearly—she did not want to be here, saying this. Yet she had been forced into it by circumstance, by duty. Her pride warred with necessity, but in the end, she had chosen the latter.

But there was a bigger problem…

I frowned. “Who are you?” I kept my voice even, but I was already getting a bad feeling.

She lifted her head slightly, her face turning a furious shade of pink, but before she could answer, Ren Xun sauntered over, smirking.

“She’s the daughter of Hei Mu and Hei Ma,” he drawled, crossing his arms. “The same girl you just slapped a few days back, Boss.”

Oh.

Now that he mentioned it, I vaguely recalled striking someone like that. But I had no particular reason to remember her face. If I had hit her, she must have deserved it.

Yeah… I could be a self-righteous prick sometimes.

The moment Ren Xun said his piece, the girl’s face turned even redder. Then, without another word, she spun on her heel and bolted—tripping over the door frame before scrambling to her feet and fleeing for her life.

“Ah, the gauntlet girl… Now, I remember.” I realized.

Hei Mao, who had been watching the whole thing, shook his head. “You’re being mean again.”

I sighed. “Get back to work,” I told him. “Same goes for you, Ren Xun.”

Honestly, I didn’t care much for apologies. What did a simple bow mean, anyway? It wasn’t like it would magically erase the bad blood between us and the Shadow Clan’s higher-ups. Their political mess was their own. If I was going to get involved, I’d rather back Hei Yuan.

Shaking my head, I turned back to a scroll discussing undead worship and resumed my reading.

A flicker of movement appeared in my peripheral vision.

Another one?

Suppressing a sigh, I glanced up from my reading.

It was Hei Yuan.

The older man’s gaze swept over me, then toward the doorway where the girl had fled. He let out a quiet sigh and shook his head. “That was a mess.”

I closed the book in my hands with a soft thud. “Was it your idea?”

Hei Yuan gave me a look, one that carried a hint of exasperation. “Do you think me so free?” He shook his head. “No. But it seems someone thought to resolve past grievances in this manner.”

He met my gaze then, his expression steady. “Regardless, I will offer my apologies on behalf of the Shadow Clan.”

The way he said it was interesting. Unlike the girl before him, his words carried neither reluctance nor servility. He was polite, but not submissive—maintaining his dignity as a cultivator, yet still sincere.

I studied him for a moment before shrugging. “It’s water under the bridge now.”

He nodded. Then, after a beat of silence, he said, “Come. Have tea with me.”

I tapped a finger against the book cover, considering his offer.

I had no real desire to entangle myself in the Shadow Clan’s internal struggles, but at the same time, building some rapport wasn’t a bad idea. Hei Yuan was someone worth keeping on good terms with.

More importantly…

Tea meant conversation.

And conversation, in the right setting, meant information.

Judging by Hei Yuan’s age and cultivation, he had likely witnessed more than most. If I played it right, I might be able to loosen his tongue and extract something useful.

“Hmmm…” I stroked my chin, pretending to hesitate. “I suppose I could use a break. But if we’re doing this, I’d prefer it be just the two of us. I’m too old to entertain the younger generation.”

I threw out the words in a deliberately grumbling tone, like an elder unwilling to be bothered by noisy juniors.

Hei Yuan raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You can’t be that old.”

“Well, I feel like it.”

He exhaled through his nose, as if debating whether to argue further, then shook his head. “Fine. Just the two of us.”

I grinned inwardly. Hook, line, and sinker.