Pfft!
Struck as if by a massive hammer, Hua Yuntian's face drained of all color in an instant, turning as pale as paper. A mouthful of reverse-flowing blood nearly burst from his lips—fury and utter mortification at the unsparing words alone pushing him to the brink.
He had cultivated all the way to the Tribulation Transcending Stage in his past life! How dare a mere spirit artifact spirit call him worthless dross?!
If he was dross, then all those cultivators who'd never even touched the Tribulation Transcending Stage—were they nothing but dog shit?
Hua Yuntian's fists clenched so tight his knuckles whitened, his body trembling slightly as an overwhelming sense of humiliation threatened to drown him. He snapped his head up, ready to confront the spirit and demand an explanation—yet all he saw were cold bookshelves and endless empty space.
The spirit artifact spirit seemed to have vanished without a trace, leaving only its searing, unforgettable insults echoing in his sea of consciousness.
The other disciples had heard no trace of the spirit's special rebuke for Hua Yuntian; they only saw him standing rigid, his face ashen, his eyes hollow and unfocused.
"Huh? Why didn't Second Senior Brother take anything?"
"I heard Second Senior Brother comes from a powerful clan—he probably thinks these techniques are beneath him."
"Maybe. Hey, have you noticed how easy these techniques are to understand? Am I just a genius?"
Whispers rippled through the disciples, their gazes toward Hua Yuntian softening with understanding.
To Hua Yuntian, that understanding was far more unbearable than outright mockery.
He fled the Scripture Repository as if running for his life.
He needed to be alone. No—he needed to cultivate, to cultivate like a man possessed!
He would grow stronger. Strong enough to topple that damned immortal formation, strong enough to make that insolent spirit artifact spirit shut its mouth forever!
Hua Yuntian ran, head bowed in defeat—utterly unaware that his lack of sincerity had cost him the Supreme Heartless Sword Canon once again, the technique that should have been his.
Outside the Scripture Repository, Jiang Ling stroked Jincancan's shimmering, iridescent plumage with a fond smile, his voice warm.
"Jincancan, you earned the greatest merit in reclaiming the wasteland. Go on in—Master has a surprise for you."
Chirp!
A flash of golden light sparked in Jincancan's glazed eyes, a flicker of anticipation rising in its heart. It had its own inherited legacy, no need for other techniques—but this cheap master was a master of hiding his strength. It was curious to see what treasure he'd prepared.
Moments later, Jincancan strutted into the Scripture Repository with its usual arrogant gait, sauntering up to a bookshelf and nuzzling its head against the sensing array at random.
Hum!
Chaos erupted in an instant!
The entire first hall of the Scripture Repository shook violently! The dim starry projections on the vault blazed to life, bursting with brilliant, dazzling golden light. A vast, ancient aura—noble, as if forged from the very source of bloodlines—descended in a single, earth-shaking wave.
This aura was no attack; it hummed with excitement, joy, even a pilgrimage-like resonance.
Screech!
A phoenix's cry—sharp enough to rend metal and stone, as if spanning endless time and space—rang out directly in the depths of Jincancan's soul.
Every golden feather on its body stood on end in an instant. Blazing golden flames erupted uncontrollably from within, wrapping it whole like a tiny, glowing golden sun!
From the depths of the Scripture Repository, the spirit artifact spirit's ancient, indifferent voice held its first hint of shock: "A pure-blooded phoenix... in the mortal realm?!"
As the words fell, a path of light woven purely from golden runes stretched forth, ignoring the bounds of space, and settled at Jincancan's feet—leading straight to the deepest, mist-shrouded reaches of the repository.
At the end of the golden path, a massive shadow of a scripture blazed with eternal golden fire, its pages woven from countless divine phoenix feathers, slowly materialized.
It was the Divine Phoenix Secret Art—the treasure hidden in the repository's topmost core!
Jincancan froze, stunned. That cry had stirred a primal thrum in the very depths of its soul, its dormant bloodline boiling like an erupting volcano. It stepped onto the golden path almost instinctively.
A flash of light—and Jincancan's figure vanished in an instant, teleported to the Scripture Repository's innermost core.
It all happened in the blink of an eye, a sight so shocking it left the disciples dumbfounded. All they'd seen was their Senior Brother nuzzle the shelf, then the entire repository burst into golden light, a phoenix's cry shaking the heavens—and their Senior Brother was gone, vanished in a streak of gold.
"What... what was that?!"
"A phoenix! I swear I heard a phoenix's cry!"
"Senior Brother it's... it's—"
"Good heavens! Senior Brother was never just a chicken!"
The disciples exploded into an uproar, their gazes fixed on the depths of the repository with a mix of shock and fanatical awe.
Outside the Scripture Repository, Jiang Ling listened to the clamor within, a proud, fatherly smile spreading across his face. He stroked his chin, his heart brimming with satisfaction.
"Finally got the Divine Phoenix Secret Art to Jincancan. Nice work, system! Say... if the disciples pick their own techniques in the repository, does that still trigger the reimbursement?"
[Ding! Wise decision, Host. The Scripture Repository is a system structure. Any technique obtained and cultivated by disciples—excluding direct system rewards—will still trigger the Ten-Thousandfold Reimbursement effect. Rewards will be comprehensively determined based on the disciple's personal attributes, the technique's rank, and other factors.]
The system's voice held a hint of approval, as if praising a quick learner.
Jiang Ling's eyes lit up instantly, his mind conjuring a glorious vision of heavenly materials and earthly treasures raining down on him like a storm.
"Hahaha! Perfect! This is sustainable development! Building the strongest sect of all eternity? It's only a matter of time!"
...
Inside Immortal Rest, in Hua Yuntian's secluded meditation chamber, the barrier of the isolation restriction shimmered, cutting the room off completely from the outside world.
Hua Yuntian sat cross-legged in the center of the Spirit-Concentrating Formation, his face livid with rage. Before him, two objects lay side by side.
To the left: the Nine-Revolution Mystic Origin Art, the jade slip he cherished like a treasure, its surface glowing with the faint aura of the Dao, extraordinary in every way.
To the right: the Basic Qi Circulation Art, the tattered book he'd cast aside like trash, quiet and unassuming, even shabby in its simplicity.
Hua Yuntian's gaze flickered wildly between them, the spirit artifact spirit's heart-stabbing words ringing in his mind like a cursed mantra, repeating over and over.
Your foundation is as shaky as a sandcastle... worthless dross...
The miraculous spatial magic of Immortal Rest, the unfathomable vastness of the Scripture Repository, the phoenix vision triggered by Jincancan choosing a technique...
All of it pressed down on his long-held beliefs like boulders, cracking them open, fissures spreading wider and wider with every passing moment.
"Could it be... I really was wrong?"
"Does this Basic Qi Circulation Art hold secrets even a Tribulation Transcending cultivator like me couldn't see?"
A thought filled with self-doubt coiled around his Dao heart like a vine, choking it slowly.
He stared at the Basic Qi Circulation Art, his eyes a whirlwind of unreadable emotion—humiliation, resentment, anger... and finally, a faint, unadmitted longing, stirring quietly in the depths of his soul.
His hand trembled as he reached out, his fingertips hovering just above the book—then he froze, as if the simple paper was scalding hot to the touch.
In the end, he let his arm fall limply to his side, his eyes squeezing shut as he channeled the Nine-Revolution Mystic Origin Art with even greater frenzy, desperate to prove he was right.
Only this time, the rhythm of his cultivation held a faint, unnoticeable urgency—one he himself did not detect.
And outside the mountain gate, the Black Rock Demon Lord, its massive frame shrunk down as it huddled beneath the mountain gate archway, clutched a pill exuding a sweet, fragrant aura in its paw, muttering under its breath.
"A wise man knows when to yield. Guarding a gate is guarding a gate—at least I'm alive. As long as I live long enough, one day, this old bear will regain his freedom!"
It licked its lips, savoring the lingering taste of the pill, and thought—maybe being a gatekeeper wasn't entirely unbearable after all?