Chapter Eight: The Hidden Library, A Perilous Quest for Knowledge

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The night fell like a vast black curtain, enveloping the Library Pavilion in an impenetrable shroud. The pavilion stood atop the mountain like a slumbering giant, its immense and mysterious silhouette barely discernible beneath the cloak of darkness. Flickers of faint, unstable runic light shimmered intermittently, like the breathing of the giant in its sleep—sometimes bright, sometimes dim—exuding an aura both enigmatic and perilous.

Drawing strength from the thin, gossamer-like moonlight, Dong Changfeng crouched low as he moved forward. His body was pressed as close to the ground as possible, akin to a nimble and vigilant raccoon, his footsteps so light as to be utterly silent, inching closer to the Library Pavilion. The surroundings were as silent as a vacuum, broken only by occasional insect chirps—whispers in the darkness—each sound magnified in the stillness, heightening the tension.

Dong Changfeng held his breath cautiously; each step felt as fragile as treading on thin ice. He feared awakening the sleeping "giant" and inviting unnecessary trouble. Ancient vines clung to the pavilion’s walls; their rough stems scratched his palms with tiny thorns when he gently pushed them aside, sending a faint sting through his skin. Behind the foliage, a small window appeared, unlocked and bathed in moonlight, as if silently inviting him into this sanctuary of knowledge.

A surge of exhilaration welled up in Dong Changfeng’s heart, as if a path to power had suddenly become visible in the darkness. Yet, just as his hand reached out to push open the window, the faintest footsteps—soft as falling leaves—echoed from afar. His heart tightened as if gripped by an invisible hand; he withdrew his hand with lightning speed and deftly concealed himself behind a thick tree.

In the cold moonlight, he saw a familiar figure slowly approaching—it was Elder Zhou, the guardian of the pavilion. The elder was clad in a gray robe that appeared dull under the moon’s glow. His face was stern and unyielding like a cold, rugged stone. In his hand, he carried a dim oil lamp whose flickering light danced like a restless ghost on night patrol. His sharp gaze pierced the darkness, as if capable of unveiling every hidden secret.

Dong Changfeng’s heart exploded like a firecracker, pounding so loudly it thundered in his ears. He dared not breathe, fearing even the slightest breath would betray his presence. Elder Zhou halted before the pavilion, his gaze sweeping like a spotlight, lingering momentarily near the tree where Dong Changfeng hid.

“Who’s there?” Elder Zhou’s voice boomed low and authoritative, striking like distant thunder in Dong’s ears. Dong felt his throat constrict as if gripped by an unseen hand, silencing him utterly.

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His mind went blank, consumed by a desperate plea not to be discovered. Pressed tightly against the rough bark, sweat trickled down his back like a small stream, soaking his clothes uncomfortably. The raised bark pricked painfully against his skin, yet he dared not move, even holding his breath shallowly, terrified of disturbing the elder so near.

“Inhale... exhale... inhale... exhale...” Dong Changfeng controlled his breathing with painstaking effort, like a crouching leopard awaiting the perfect moment. Through the gaps in the leaves, he squinted to observe Elder Zhou’s every move.

The footsteps drew closer: “tap, tap, tap”—each step striking against Dong’s heart like a heavy drumbeat, nearly suffocating him. He even caught a faint herbal scent clinging to the elder, which now felt like a death knell that chilled him to the bone.

“Strange... is it just my imagination?” Elder Zhou muttered softly, his sharp gaze sweeping again over the tree where Dong concealed himself, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Despair overwhelmed Dong, and he closed his eyes tightly, thinking, “It’s over... I’m done for!”

At that critical moment, a sudden “meow~” cut through the night like a sharp blade. A sleek black wildcat darted out of nowhere, flashing past Elder Zhou’s feet like a black streak. “Where did this beast come from?” Elder Zhou startled, waving his hand instinctively to shoo away the unexpected creature.

Dong heard a hint of alarm in the elder’s voice. Peeking slightly, he saw the nimble cat evade the elder’s swat and vanish into the bushes beside the pavilion. “Hmph, little beast, don’t let me catch you!” Elder Zhou snorted and, abandoning his search, gave chase after the wildcat.

Dong Changfeng was stunned, hardly believing his eyes. This sudden turn of events felt like a dream. Slowly opening his eyes, he watched Elder Zhou’s retreating figure and exhaled deeply. The relief after surviving such peril weakened his legs, nearly causing him to collapse. Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, he thought, “That was close—truly a blessing from heaven!” He glanced at the pavilion’s tightly shut doors, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curling his lips.

“Runes...” he murmured softly. Taking a deep breath to steady his wildly pounding heart, Dong began to carefully examine the pavilion’s protective spells. Moonlight spilled over the runes like flowing mercury, flickering unpredictably, mysterious beyond measure.

He reached out and lightly touched the runes. A faint electric current surged through his body, like countless tiny needles pricking his skin, causing him to shiver involuntarily. Yet his eyes held no trace of retreat; his mind raced through methods to dispel the enchantments.

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Drawing a deep breath, his fingers danced swiftly across the runes’ surface as if playing an invisible melody. Each touch met resistance, as if an unseen force pushed back against his will. But relying on his exceptional memory and understanding of rune principles, he gradually discerned their pattern.

“Found it!” Dong Changfeng suddenly opened his eyes, his fingers brimming with resolute energy. He pinpointed the runes’ weak spot and gently traced a line. With a soft “click,” the runic light dimmed instantly, like a candle snuffed out.

Joy surged within him. Hastily, he pushed open the pavilion’s door, which creaked softly as he slipped inside. The air inside was thick with the scent of ancient scrolls—a blend of aged paper, ink, and the weight of time itself. Towering bookshelves loomed like giants, laden with a dazzling array of volumes—a vast ocean of knowledge.

Eagerly, Dong Changfeng darted between the shelves, his eyes scanning the spines with ravenous hunger for books that might aid him. Time passed unnoticed until his gaze was caught by an ancient tome emitting a faint glow.

Carefully, he lifted the book. His fingers brushed the rough, cool cover, gently brushing away dust to reveal four bold characters inscribed on the front: The Profound Heaven Scripture. “Could this... be the legendary text?” Dong’s hands trembled with excitement as he hurriedly opened the tome. Rows of archaic characters unfolded before him, seeming alive, as if harboring infinite secrets.

In the days that followed, Dong spent his days performing menial tasks within the sect, while at night slipping back to his quarters to study the Profound Heaven Scripture in secret. His cultivation advanced rapidly, soon reaching the third layer of Qi Refinement.

“This isn’t enough—my strength is far from sufficient!” Dong Changfeng gazed at the bright moonlight streaming through the window, its silver glow washing over the ground like flowing water. Beyond lay the rear mountain, home to many rare spiritual herbs but also teeming with low-level beasts—a perilous zone for one at his current level.

“Then I’ll risk it!” Determination flashed in his eyes. Slinging his simple herb-gathering tools onto his back, he set off toward the rear mountains, ready to face whatever dangers awaited.