Chapter Twenty-Six: Choosing Spells

The architecture of the Library Pavilion bore a striking resemblance to the Administrative Court—rugged and menacing in style. Yet, unlike the Court’s pitch-black interior where even a single flame was hard to find, the inside here was not so forbidding.

Stepping through the main doors, one was greeted by rows upon rows of bookshelves, arrayed in such a way that the entire space resembled a labyrinthine city of tomes. However, Ying Chen was well aware that though the collection was vast, the value of these books was rather mediocre. The absence of any attendants made this plain enough—these were texts open for all to peruse at will.

Anything more advanced was kept on the second or even third floor, and that was the true purpose of his visit.

Without lingering on the first floor, Ying Chen headed straight for the stairs. Upon reaching the second floor, he immediately sensed a difference: not only were there Daoists stationed as overseers, but will-o’-the-wisps flickered among the shelves, patrolling ceaselessly. Occasionally, he could spot fellow disciples leafing through texts before the shelves.

Drawing near, he saw that each row bore plaques inscribed with labels: Cultivation Methods, Spells, Talismans, and beneath these, further subdivided—Sect, Miscellaneous, Corpse Refinement, Ghost Rearing, Gu Arts, Curses, and so forth. Everything was meticulously organized.

A notion struck Ying Chen, and he made his way toward the shelves marked for Cultivation Methods. At a glance, he saw titles such as “Lunar Essence Cultivation,” “Golden Qi Armament Formula,” “Yin Corpse Vitality Method,” and many more.

He selected a few volumes and skimmed through them, a sense of understanding gradually forming in his mind. It turned out that the Library Pavilion housed a multitude of cultivation techniques available for disciples’ practice.

Take, for example, the “Lunar Essence Cultivation”—this method allowed one to absorb the essence of moon and stars to enhance magical power, resulting in a deep reservoir of energy surpassing most practitioners.

The “Golden Qi Armament Formula” enabled one to temper their magical power to a razor’s edge, so that pure force alone could serve as blade or spear.

The “Yin Corpse Vitality Method” was far more sinister—requiring the refinement of a yin corpse as a furnace, to engage in dual cultivation. If necessary, the practitioner could even sacrifice the corpse to break through their own limits.

Yet each came with its own caveats: the “Lunar Essence Cultivation” was slower in progress than ordinary methods; “Golden Qi Armament Formula” made the energy so sharp it lost its nourishing properties, causing most users to suffer internal harm or even wither away; the “Yin Corpse Vitality Method” could leave a person neither truly human nor ghost.

All in all, each method had its strengths and weaknesses—it was a matter of personal choice.

Ying Chen shook his head and returned the scrolls to their places. The “Mysterious Yin Formula” he currently cultivated, though basic and somewhat slow in progress, provided a solid foundation. As long as he could endure, his future path would be all the broader.

Moreover, it was common knowledge that many of the Innate Dao’s superior techniques could be transitioned into from the “Mysterious Yin Formula,” making it the obvious choice for those with great ambition.

Of course, this did not mean the methods in the Library Pavilion were worthless. On the contrary, in a place like Redwater Cliff, these techniques could be more precious—offering either immediate strength or rapid results.

But Ying Chen’s circumstances did not require such impatience.

Leaving behind the cultivation method shelves, he moved straight to the spell section. Spells, too, were divided into many categories. Ying Chen, however, had already decided to ignore arts he knew nothing about—such as corpse refinement, gu, or curses—and instead paid attention to ghost-rearing and exorcism.

Back when he studied the Beast Soldier Talisman, he had labored hard in working with souls, so he ought to have little trouble with such spells. Of course, his top priority remained the pure Yin-based arts.

After searching and sifting, Ying Chen soon narrowed his focus to several spells:

The Minor Yin Thunder Art, which, once mastered, could unleash Yin thunder to shatter metal and stone, and utterly destroy human bodies. Even a cultivator struck head-on would be torn apart—a formidable power indeed.

The Five Turbid Vital Qi Technique was more complicated, requiring the collection of five types of turbid qi to be stored in the chest, then condensed by magical force and tempered over time, eventually forming a vital energy that could be controlled at will. It boasted not only great destructive power but also the ability to defile energy and break through spells.

The last was the Five Ghosts Transport Technique, which required the souls of five robust men to be processed and refined into an object capable of housing spirits, thereby allowing the practitioner to command five ghosts. This method required monthly offerings of blood to the ghosts—a troublesome affair—but the benefits were substantial: the ghosts could pass through walls, travel underground or in the air, and transport boulders with ease. After brief hesitation, Ying Chen included it among his chosen techniques.

All three spells suited him perfectly, each with its own merits, so after much deliberation, he resolved to pursue them all. At worst, he could trade spirit stones for contribution points to redeem them.

But before that, he intended to venture up to the third floor.

Having earned the top score in the recent examination, he was entitled to select a single tome from anywhere in the Library Pavilion. By rights, the third floor was where he should make his choice.

In truth, however, the more advanced the art, the harder it was to master—often requiring specific cultivation levels or near-impossible preconditions. Thus, the techniques on the lower floors were in fact more suitable for him.

Yet, self-awareness did not stop Ying Chen from wanting to broaden his horizons—after all, without top marks, one was not even permitted to set foot on the third floor, and he had never visited it before.

So, leaving his selected spells for the time being, he ascended the stairs with an unhurried air.

No sooner had he set foot on the third floor than an attendant stepped forward to examine his token before allowing him among the shelves.

Ying Chen first perused a few cultivation methods. The ones on this floor were even more advanced, with greater advantages and far fewer side effects. Strangely, each was labeled as to whether it had subsequent levels or could be transitioned into the sect’s top-tier methods—a distinction that saw the lesser techniques on the second floor almost wholly ignored.

Seeing this, Ying Chen understood at once, and, collecting his thoughts, turned his attention to the spells.

As expected, every spell here either required a certain cultivation rank—at least seventh level of Qi Refinement—or demanded rare materials that he simply could not provide.

Nevertheless, he delighted in the exploration; even if he could not use them for now, learning about their characteristics and power might prove useful someday.

As he wandered among the shelves, rarely lingering in one place, Ying Chen suddenly found his steps arrested.

He had opened a tome bound in ashen paper, and his gaze was instantly riveted to the page.

“White Bone Flying Fork—nothing can withstand its strike, said to rival the sharpness of a flying sword!”