The stairs creaked softly beneath their feet as Zhen followed Mei’s steady pace. Her steps were measured, her gaze downcast, as if afraid to draw too much attention to herself even in the solitude of the stairwell.

  “Senior Brother,” she said tentatively, glancing back at him with a small, unsure smile, “is this your first time visiting the pavilion?”

  “It is,” Zhen replied. The title Senior Brother still felt odd, given that Mei was clearly older, but the cultivation hierarchy respected power, not age. It was quite odd, but he quickly accepted it, comparing it to being called sir in his previous job, where authority often didn't match age or experience. “It’s… bigger than I imagined.”

  A part of him was tempted to ask Mei how she felt addressing someone so much younger as senior, but he held his tongue.

  Mei’s smile grew a fraction, though her eyes flickered downward again. “Most newcomers say the same. The pavilion has many secrets—it can be overwhelming.”

  Zhen’s curiosity piqued at her tone, low and cautious. “Secrets, you say? Care to share one?”

  Her head dipped, and she let out a soft, deferential laugh. “I wouldn’t presume, Senior Brother. But if you wish to know something, I could answer… to the best of my ability.”

  Zhen chuckled, playing along. “Then, do you have any advice for someone completely new to this?”

  Mei tilted her head thoughtfully as they entered a dimly lit corridor lined with intricately carved doors. “Well, Senior Brother,” she began, a glint in her eye, “if I were to give advice—which, of course, a junior like me shouldn’t presume to do—I’d say to trust your instincts. Sometimes, a manual might seem too advanced or too simple, but if you feel a connection with it, it could be the right one. And…” She hesitated, glancing around as if to ensure no one else could hear, “if you sense one resonating with Qi, that might be a sign worth considering.”

  Zhen nodded thoughtfully, even as he realized her advice was still too vague to be of real use. He decided to smooth over the moment, discreetly retrieving a small spirit stone from his sleeve and offering it to her. “Thank you, Mei,” he said quietly, making sure to cover all direction.

  Mei’s eyes widened briefly in surprise before she composed herself and accepted the stone with a small, respectful bow. “Senior Brother is too generous,” she murmured. Her voice softened further. “One more piece of advice, then, if I may? The pavilion holds techniques across all four grades, but… for someone like you, I’d suggest starting with the Profound grade. They might seem simple now, but they offer room to grow. That could prove invaluable as you advance.”

  Zhen inclined his head, digesting her words, but a deeper problem lingered in his mind. He wasn’t even sure what these “grades” meant, nor how to categorize techniques at all. Hoping to avoid suspicion, he asked carefully, “How does one begin to choose a technique? I’ve heard the terms, but… well, I’d rather not make a fool of myself.”

  Mei faltered, the faintest hitch in her step, before she stopped entirely. She turned to face him, her eyes fixed somewhere just below his own. “Forgive me, Senior Brother,” she began hesitantly, “but… why would you come here without knowing what you want?”

  Do I have to do some research before coming here? Zhen frowned slightly, careful to hide his unease. “I thought this would be a good place to start learning,” he replied, keeping his tone casual. “I assumed the pavilion would offer guidance for beginners. Why else would there be so many manuals?”

  Surely it wasn’t possible to sift through techniques as one would browse a library’s shelves? Was it more like navigating a labyrinth, with intuition and understanding as the guide?

  Mei’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering in their depths. “Senior Brother,” she said carefully, her voice lowering, “the pavilion isn’t just a place to browse. Most who come here already have an understanding of what they seek. Techniques are graded not just by complexity but by compatibility. Are you certain…” she hesitated, her words trailing off, “…that you aren’t here for some other purpose?”

  Zhen forced a laugh, hoping to dispel her wariness. “What purpose could I have other than to learn? I just want to avoid making a mistake.”

  Mei studied him carefully, her gaze lingering as if to gauge the truth of his words. Finally, she sighed softly, relenting. “Then, forgive my doubts, Senior Brother. Perhaps you are… different. But if you’re truly uncertain, I can explain the basics. Techniques are categorized into four ranks: Mortal, Profound, Earth, and Heaven. The higher the rank, the greater the power and the more difficult they are to obtain. But there’s more to it than just power—each rank also reflects how much potential a technique has for future growth.”

  Zhen nodded, his mind racing as he tried to piece together her explanation. Techniques sorted by rank, with varying levels of power and difficulty—that part made sense. But why was she emphasizing the Profound grade? Shouldn’t he aim as high as possible? Wasn’t the entire point of cultivation to ascend quickly and grasp the greatest heights?

  As if sensing his hesitation, Mei continued, her voice calm but tinged with caution. “The pavilion’s first floor holds techniques of all grades, but the Earth and Heaven techniques here are often incomplete. Incomplete techniques can be dangerous—it’s like trying to build a house without knowing if you have all the materials. A Profound technique might not seem as impressive at first glance, but it’s solid, reliable, and offers room for steady growth.”

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  Zhen absorbed her words, his thoughts spinning. Incomplete techniques. The idea gave him pause. He hadn’t considered the possibility that reaching too high too soon could lead to a dead end—or worse, harm his cultivation. Yet, the notion intrigued him. What if an incomplete technique could be finished later? Could it hold hidden potential, like a forgotten treasure?

  But what if the golden words completed the technique? Wouldn't that be similar to the first idea that he thought about generating money?

  Still, a Profound technique didn’t sound glamorous. It lacked the immediate allure of the more prestigious Earth or Heaven grades. Zhen wondered if choosing such a path would undermine his status as a cultivator—or if it might set him apart for entirely different reasons.

  Remembering Wang Bo, he didn't want to commit the same mistake. Stability was more important for him. His rank had no effect on Wang Bo, so entering Foundation Establishment is still the better choice.

  Before Zhen could ask Mei any more questions, they reached the landing. He felt a peculiar sensation as though he had passed through a thin layer of water. The air seemed heavier for a moment, charged with faint energy, before returning to normal.

  He glanced upward, half-expecting to see rows of open bookshelves, but the second floor defied his assumptions. Instead of the expected grandeur, the layout mirrored the first: a stark reception desk stood ahead, though it was curiously unmanned.

  Shelves flanked the sides of the room, laden with scrolls and manuals, yet they seemed cloaked behind a hazy curtain. The shimmering obscured their details, leaving only indistinct silhouettes visible—a tantalizing promise of knowledge hidden just out of reach.

  Near the desk stood a guard, his rigid posture reminiscent of a carved statue. His muscular frame filled out the pavilion’s standard uniform, and his expression, chiseled with stern focus, brooked no nonsense.

  Beside him, an old man with white, receding hair swept the floor with slow, deliberate strokes of a broom. Despite his seemingly humble task, everything about the elder—the calm precision of his movements, the quiet strength in his gaze—radiated the presence of someone extraordinary.

  Hidden expert. Definitely one of those elusive masters that every story warns about.

  Mei bowed deeply. “This is a new outer sect disciple here for his manual selection,” she announced, her voice laced with respect.

  The guard’s piercing gaze locked onto Zhen, scrutinizing him with an intensity that made his spine stiffen. “Do you have any weapons on you?”

  Zhen shook his head immediately. “No, I don’t have any weapons.”

  The guard’s eyes narrowed slightly, “Do you have any storage space? Hidden compartments or storage artifacts?”

  “No storage artifacts or hidden compartments either,” Zhen replied carefully. “I came here with nothing but my robes.”

  The guard gave a curt nod, though his gaze lingered for a moment longer. “Good. Remember, any unauthorized items found within the manual room will result in severe punishment. Follow the rules, and you’ll be fine.”

  Zhen swallowed hard and nodded, forcing himself to meet the man’s gaze. “Understood. May I ask—what kind of punishments are we talking about?”

  The guard’s lips pressed into a thin, grim line. “Pray you don’t find out.”

  Before the words fully settled the elderly man interjected without breaking stride in his sweeping, his cold, authoritative voice slicing through the tension. “You have thirty minutes. You may only enter the first floor. Choose one item—nothing more.”

  Zhen suppressed a groan. So much for staying inconspicuous. Not so hidden after all.

  At that moment, the hazy curtain veiling the shelves shimmered, then dissolved with a faint ripple on the right side of the room. Zhen’s breath caught as the once-obscured shelves came into sharp focus.

  The room seemed to expand, as though the walls themselves acknowledged the unveiling.

  “What are you waiting for? The clock is already ticking,” the elder barked, his sharp tone snapping Zhen from his awe.

  “Yes, Senior,” Zhen muttered, bowing hastily. He darted toward the room, cursing under his breath. First rule of survival—don’t irritate the hidden expert.

  Inside, the air shifted again, thickening with an almost tangible energy. The scent of aged paper mingled with the increasing hum of Qi in the air.

  Zhen stepped inside, his eyes scanning the rows upon rows of martial arts techniques.

  The shelves weren’t merely cluttered; they were organized meticulously by categories. Names etched into brass plaques gleamed in the dim light: Heaven Grade - Beastly Qi, Earth Grade - Elemental Qi, Profound Grade - Spirit Techniques, and others he didn’t yet recognize.

  For a moment, Zhen stood still, taking it all in. The immensity of what lay before him was daunting, each row brimming with potential triumph—or disaster. Choose one item, nothing more, he reminded himself, the elder’s warning echoing in his mind.

  He also noticed a faint shimmering before the bookshelves. He took a step forward and noticed a faint shimmering before some of the bookshelves. His brows furrowed. Was it some kind of protective formation? Or maybe it was simply the residual aura of the scrolls that had been imbued with techniques. He made a mental note not to touch anything without proper preparation.

  Zhen’s thoughts drifted as he browsed. What should I choose? The question hung in his mind like an unsolved riddle. He felt a growing sense of pressure as his eyes flitted across the names of the manuals.

  His gaze lingered on a particularly ornate section of the shelf labeled Heaven Grade. The books there bore dramatic titles that exuded grandeur: Blue Star Heavenly Body Art, Seven Celestial Thundergod Burning Punch, Void Dragon Ascension, and more.

  He chuckled under his breath. If I were a protagonist in some grand tale, these names would be perfect. They practically scream 'legendary hero.' But his skepticism grew.