The next day, when Nalan Ruoshui saw Chen Nan again, she was stunned. She noticed that the man standing before her seemed like a completely different person. His appearance was still ordinary, but there was an indescribable aura about him—his faint smile, his deep gaze...

  "Have you regained your strength?"

  "No, why would you think that?"

  Nalan Ruoshui said, "I feel like something has changed in you. There's a different kind of aura about you. Hasn't your strength been restored?"

  Chen Nan was startled, quickly concealing his inner power, and smiled, "How could that be?"

  Nalan Ruoshui regained her calm demeanor and said, "Maybe it's just my imagination. Alright, let me continue with the acupuncture."

  This session of acupuncture lasted for an hour. After Nalan Ruoshui left, Chen Nan immediately began circulating his true qi through his meridians, but the effect was nowhere near as powerful as the first time.

  He opened his eyes, sighed, and muttered, "It seems there really are no shortcuts in martial arts!"

  From then on, Nalan Ruoshui visited almost every day, though not always for acupuncture. Sometimes, she would apply pressure to Chen Nan's acupoints in an attempt to activate his internal true qi.

  Gradually, the two became more familiar with each other. Nalan Ruoshui no longer maintained her previous coldness, and occasionally, she would engage in small talk with him.

  From their conversations, Chen Nan learned that although Nalan Ruoshui was a member of the House of Eccentrics, she rarely stayed there, often residing at her own home. Her father was an official in the court, with a position not too low. She and Chu Yue had been childhood friends, which allowed her frequent access to the Royal Archive. Much of her medical knowledge was learned from there.

  When Chen Nan heard Nalan Ruoshui mention the Royal Archive, his eyes lit up. He knew that there must be many precious ancient texts there, possibly even records from thousands of years ago. The thought excited him greatly.

  "Miss Nalan, you are truly a talent. Your remarkable medical skills are mostly self-taught. It’s truly impressive."

  Nalan Ruoshui casually replied, "It's nothing special. As long as you put in the effort, anyone can achieve it."

  Chen Nan sighed, "I could never do that. I'm just a simple mountain person, I can't even read, how could I learn from those books?"

  Nalan Ruoshui was surprised, "You... you can't read?"

  "That's right, I can't recognize a single character. I can't even write my own name." As he said this, Chen Nan’s expression became somewhat despondent. Though it was a lie, there was a hint of true emotion in it.

  "I’m an orphan, abandoned in the deep mountains. A kind old hunter found me and took me in. Because of the hardships in life, I never went to school to learn to read. When I was sixteen, my adoptive father passed away, and from then on, my world turned gray..."

  "My adoptive father not only raised me and gave me the warmth of a family, but he also taught me some martial arts. But how strong could a sixteen-year-old boy be? While hunting in the deep mountains, I often escaped by the skin of my teeth from wild beasts’ claws... During the winter, when the snow piled up to my knees, I had no shoes to wear and could only huddle in a thin coat in a shabby little cabin, shivering from the cold wind..."

  "No warmth, no food... I could only pray for the wind and snow to stop soon... During the long winter, sometimes it would take six or seven days before I could eat once, and that was when a kind neighbor, out of their own meager rations, would give me a bit of food..."

  In the grip of hunger and cold, I once fell gravely ill. One day, the neighbors, having not seen me step outside for a long time, forced their way into the shabby hut my adoptive father had left behind. By then, I had been unconscious for days. They later told me that I had been murmuring in my fevered delirium, calling out, ‘Mother… Mother…’ But I knew that in this lifetime, I would never have a mother—only the memory of an adoptive father I once had…”

  Chen Nan wiped the tears from his face and said, “I’m sorry, Miss Nalan. I must have embarrassed you. I got too emotional and lost myself for a moment…”

  Nalan Ruoshui’s eyes misted over. In a gentle voice, she said, “I should be the one to apologize. I made you recall painful memories. I didn’t know you had such a difficult past.”

  “It’s nothing. My hardships have only made me cherish my happiness all the more.”

  A woman's nature is kind, and Chen Nan’s “tragic past” filled Nalan Ruoshui’s heart with a bitter ache. Softly, she said, “Young Master Chen, would you like to learn to read? I can teach you.”

  “Really?” Chen Nan was overjoyed. This was exactly what he had hoped for, yet a pang of guilt struck him—he had won her sympathy with a lie.

  “Of course. From now on, I’ll perform acupuncture for you in the mornings and teach you to read in the afternoons.” At that moment, Nalan Ruoshui’s usual cold, indifferent demeanor melted away, replaced by a radiant smile.

  Chen Nan had never expected that beneath her aloof and ethereal aura, this beautiful woman would have such an enchanting smile.

  Women are naturally kind and compassionate. Moved by Chen Nan’s “unfortunate childhood,” Nalan Ruoshui abandoned her usual reserve. In the days that followed, she meticulously treated his injuries, spared no effort in helping him recover his strength, and patiently taught him to read and write.

  Chen Nan felt a growing sense of guilt and newfound respect for this kind-hearted beauty.

  More than half a month passed, yet Chen Nan’s “illness” showed no signs of improvement. Nalan Ruoshui was baffled. She pored over every medical text she could find, but nothing offered a solution.

  During this time, Chu Yue visited several times, always offering words of comfort, telling Chen Nan not to lose heart.

  Even the little princess had sneaked over a few times. Naturally, she never passed up an opportunity to torment him. However, perhaps out of guilt, she didn’t go too far. Even so, this little demon still gave Chen Nan endless headaches. What puzzled him most was how she always skulked about, sneaking around as if she were hiding from someone.

  It wasn’t until Nalan Ruoshui explained that Chen Nan finally understood—turns out, the little devil was avoiding the old witch who studied magic.

  That old witch had once wanted to take the little princess as her disciple, but the princess stubbornly refused and instead insisted on apprenticing under the martial arts grandmaster, Zhuge Chengfeng. Enraged, the old witch nearly challenged Zhuge Chengfeng to a duel. Yet, she never gave up on trying to take the princess as her student. Every time she saw her, she would attempt to persuade her with reason and emotion alike.

  The little princess had grown so wary of her that every time she came to the House of Eccentrics, she did so in secret.

  After hearing Nalan Ruoshui’s story, Chen Nan burst into laughter. He never imagined that the wicked little demon could be afraid of anything or suffer setbacks. It was truly a rare spectacle.

  Even Nalan Ruoshui’s lips curled into a faint smile. For someone as detached as she was to find amusement in this, it was clear just how notorious the little devil’s mischief was in the imperial capital.

  One day, the little princess’s master, Zhuge Chengfeng, returned gravely injured, sending shockwaves through the city’s martial community. Chen Nan was equally astonished. He had witnessed firsthand the grandmaster’s near-transcendent martial prowess—the battle between Zhuge Chengfeng and the giant serpent remained vivid in his memory.

  Zhuge Chengfeng had indeed encountered the legendary qilin within the Falling Wind Mountains. Countless cultivators had swarmed toward the divine beast, all hoping to tame it. Even those who knew they stood no chance charged forward, seeking at least to slay the creature and claim a piece of its body to refine into medicine.

  Zhuge Chengfeng merely watched coldly from the sidelines. He was well aware of the qilin’s power—far beyond what ordinary people could contend with. Even the holy serpent that had failed to ascend into a dragon had pushed him to his limits. Against a true divine beast, there was simply no comparison.

  And indeed, as he expected, the qilin remained unfazed by the siege of hundreds. It opened its mouth and unleashed a torrent of flames. The fire burned so fiercely that the first wave of attackers was instantly reduced to ashes.

  Zhuge Chengfeng had intended to leave, but the qilin fixed its gaze upon him. Divine beasts could sense the strongest among their intruders. It regarded these trespassers who had disturbed its ancient slumber with deep hostility. Wreathed in fire, it charged straight at Zhuge Chengfeng.

  The battle between Zhuge Chengfeng and the divine beast was unimaginably fierce. Countless people who had come for the qilin were caught in the crossfire—some were pierced by sword energy surging with murderous intent, while others were reduced to ashes by the raging flames. Death swept through the battlefield like an unstoppable tide. In the end, Zhuge Chengfeng was no match for the qilin. Gravely wounded, he fled, barely managing to escape the deadly peril of the Falling Wind Mountains.

  Only a fraction of those who had entered the mountains—perhaps one in ten—managed to escape with their lives. The incident sent shockwaves across the continent. More and more powerful cultivators ventured into the Falling Wind Mountains, hoping to tame the qilin as their steed. The dragon knights of the Western Continent, in particular, were utterly captivated. When news of the qilin spread, their interest in it far surpassed that of dragons. Dozens of formidable dragon knights set out from their respective nations, heading toward the Falling Wind Mountains.

  Zhuge Chengfeng recounted the event briefly, but the danger he had faced was obvious. That battle must have been far more intense than his previous fight with the giant serpent.

  The little princess was deeply dissatisfied. Puffing out her cheeks, she muttered, “Such a spectacular show, and I missed it! What a shame! It’s not often that the old man makes a fool of himself, and I didn’t even get to witness it. Sigh…”

  After giving his report, Zhuge Chengfeng quickly departed, seeking seclusion to heal his wounds. If he had heard his precious disciple’s complaints, he might have coughed up another mouthful of blood in sheer frustration.

  For over a month, the qilin incident dominated the continent. Countless cultivators returned in defeat, and it was not until the qilin vanished from the Falling Wind Mountains that the commotion finally died down.

  Since reaching the third level of his clan’s profound cultivation technique, Chen Nan was fully capable of leaving at any moment. Yet, he no longer felt the urgency to do so. Apart from undergoing his “treatments,” he devoted himself entirely to studying the common script of the continent.

  Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, two months had passed. His abilities showed no signs of “recovery,” but his mastery of the written language had improved astonishingly. Nalan Ruoshui was astounded—she never expected him to have such a talent for learning.

  Chen Nan voraciously devoured history books, both official records and unofficial chronicles, leaving no volume unread.

  Every time he thought of the Cemetery of the Gods and Demons, an uneasy feeling stirred within him. He had been reborn from that ancient burial ground, and its past weighed heavily on his mind. He yearned to uncover all its secrets. A powerful intuition told him that the earth-shattering mystery from ten thousand years ago had not been erased by time. One day, the truth would come to light.

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  He scoured historical texts, searching for any trace of that lost era, but disappointment was all he found. The records only covered the past five thousand years—nothing reached back to ten thousand years ago.

  Nalan Ruoshui, puzzled by his intense fascination with history, finally asked, “Young Master Chen, why are you so drawn to history? There are so many poems and literary works in the House of Eccentrics, yet I’ve never seen you touch them.”

  Chen Nan chuckled awkwardly. “Well… Poems and essays may be profound and uplifting, but I find history far more immersive—it stirs something deep within me. I was illiterate before, so I never had the chance to read much. I never knew the continent had such a vast and tumultuous past. The rise and fall of mighty empires, the prosperity and decline of great civilizations… Five thousand years of trials and triumphs, five thousand years of splendor and ruin… It’s awe-inspiring, truly breathtaking.”

  A flicker of emotion crossed Nalan Ruoshui’s eyes. With a soft smile, she said, “You speak with such passion, Young Master Chen. It seems you’ve gained much from your studies.”

  Chen Nan felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t expected his rambling to sound so profound.

  “You’ve only been reading for two months, yet you can already comprehend the continent’s history so fluently. That’s truly impressive,” Nalan Ruoshui praised, her lips curved in a faint smile.

  Seeing her in a good mood, Chen Nan seized the moment to voice a long-held request. “Miss Nalan… I’ve read every history book in the House of Eccentrics. Would it be possible… for me to accompany you to the royal archives?”

  Nalan Ruoshui gave him a curious glance. “Are you really that interested in history? The royal archives are heavily guarded. I only gained access because I’m good friends with Princess Yue. Bringing someone along would be difficult. However, we could try—if Princess Yu agrees to escort you, it might be possible.”

  At the mention of the little devil, Chen Nan’s head throbbed. He immediately shook his head. “No need. I think I’ll just stay here and read poetry instead.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll speak with Princess Yu tomorrow,” Nalan Ruoshui said with a reassuring smile.

  "No, no… I refuse to read any more. I've read so much history my head is spinning."

  "Heh…" Nalan Ruoshui rarely smiled, even though she was not one to maintain a cold, aloof demeanor. At this moment, however, her radiant smile was like rippling spring water, stirring endless waves in the heart.

  Chen Nan was momentarily dazed, but Nalan Ruoshui’s next words quickly pulled him back to reality.

  "Don't worry, I would never go looking for Princess Yu. If I have to ask someone, it’ll be Princess Yue. Princess Yu is notoriously difficult to deal with—I have no desire to bring trouble upon myself."

  Chen Nan gave a dry chuckle. "I never thought the little princess's reputation was so widespread. I thought I was the only one who found her exhausting."

  That night, as he lay in bed, Chen Nan reflected on everything that had happened over the past two months. It all felt like a grand drama—somehow, he had ended up as a hidden eccentric of the Chu Kingdom. But his greatest gain during these two months was learning the common script of the continent, fully integrating himself into this society.

  The next day, Nalan Ruoshui greeted him with a faint smile. "Princess Yue has already spoken with the archivists. After your acupuncture session, you can come with me."

  Chen Nan was overjoyed. Once the acupuncture was done, he followed Nalan Ruoshui out of the House of Eccentrics. A dozen warriors flanked an opulent carriage, standing guard on either side. Nalan Ruoshui beckoned him to board, leaving Chen Nan feeling flattered and somewhat overwhelmed. The intoxicating fragrance in the carriage accompanied him all the way to the imperial palace.

  At the palace gates, officials dismounted from their horses and stepped down from their carriages. In the forbidden grounds of the palace, only members of the royal family were granted special privileges.

  Within the palace, grand halls and lofty towers rose in layers, their magnificent splendor awe-inspiring. Nalan Ruoshui led Chen Nan through winding corridors, left and right turns, until they finally arrived before a towering hall.

  The head archivist, a Hanlin scholar in his forties, had already been informed by Chu Yue beforehand and did not ask any questions.

  Inside, books filled the vast hall like mountains, yet they were arranged with meticulous order, row upon row, shelf upon shelf, neatly categorized.

  Skipping over poetry, astronomy, and medicine, Chen Nan went straight to the section marked "History." As he stood before the collection of nearly ten thousand historical volumes, a sense of dizziness washed over him. How long would it take to finish all these books? This was simply too much!

  Patiently, he began his search. He skimmed only the first page of each book, and if it contained history from the past five thousand years, he would immediately put it back.

  In the days that followed, Chen Nan and Nalan Ruoshui traveled between the House of Eccentrics and the royal archives daily. His routine consisted of endlessly flipping through history books, a monotonous yet consuming task.

  One day, he absentmindedly pulled a book from the shelf. At a glance, he saw that it was written in modern script and instinctively reached to put it back. But the four characters on the cover—"Cultivation Rankings"—caught his attention. His hand hesitated midway, then withdrew.

  Curious, he flipped it open for a quick skim, but soon, he found himself utterly captivated.

  The book detailed the ranking system of cultivators. Despite their differing classification standards, Daoists, magicians, Eastern martial artists, and Western warriors were all divided into five tiers, ranked from lowest to highest. However, even the lowest tier described in the book consisted of elites among elites—only those with exceptional power could ascend these ranks. Ordinary experts were not even within the scope of this classification.

  Through the book’s descriptions, Chen Nan gained a deeper understanding of the strength possessed by the top cultivators of the present era.

  Among them, Daoists were the most enigmatic. Because they rarely revealed their full power, their ranking remained highly debated. The book provided only a basic breakdown of their cultivation stages: Foundation Establishment, Qi Nourishment, Essence Condensation, Core Formation, and Nascent Soul. However, an annotation suggested that levels beyond these might exist. According to legend, the highest realm led directly to the path of immortality—but no one had ever witnessed such individuals in action.

  Magicians, on the other hand, were categorized more clearly: Apprentice Mage, Intermediate Mage, Advanced Mage, Grand Mage, and Archmage.

  The cultivation stages of Eastern warriors can be divided into: Refining Essence into Qi, the Innate Realm, Sword Qi Projection, Refining Qi into Spirit, and the Divine Condensation of Qi. Additionally, the book mentioned that some had surpassed these five realms, possessing an unimaginable level of power—so great that it was said to be akin to divinity.

  Western warriors, on the other hand, are ranked as follows: Sword Craftsman, Sword Master, Sword Grandmaster, Sword Saint, and Sword God. Besides these, there exists a unique class of warriors among them—the Dragon Knights. These formidable warriors form a bond with powerful dragons, wielding devastating strength. They are ranked as: Earth Dragon Knight, Flying Dragon Knight, Lesser Dragon Knight, Great Dragon Knight, and Holy Dragon Knight.

  By dividing all types of cultivators into five tiers, their strength becomes comparable across disciplines. Generally speaking, those within the same tier possess similar power. However, Daoists and magicians clearly hold an advantage over warriors. When facing weaker opponents of a lower tier, they can leverage their unique abilities, directly manipulating the elemental energy of the world to unleash large-scale attacks, striking multiple enemies indiscriminately.

  According to the classifications in the book, most warriors do not even qualify as ranked experts. While martial techniques can be practiced by anyone, the vast majority fail to reach profound mastery—only a select few attain the status of a tiered expert.

  Though Daoists and magicians require exceptional constitutions to cultivate, making their numbers relatively scarce, the majority of them are indeed tiered experts. Clearly, a cultivator's innate physique is closely tied to their future achievements. Overall, the number of tiered experts across the four cultivation paths appears to be roughly equal.

  Closing the book, Chen Nan let out a long breath. At last, he had a clear understanding of the ranking system governing the world's cultivators. However, he was convinced that the pinnacle of cultivation extended far beyond the fifth tier. He knew for a fact that his father, Chen Zhan, had long surpassed the highest realm of Eastern warriors—Divine Condensation of Qi.

  He objectively assessed his own standing. His family's secret martial arts had reached the Third Heavenly Layer—he had just barely learned to project his sword qi beyond his body. This qualified him as a third-tier cultivator, which, on this continent, already made him a true expert.

  This unexpected discovery had proven invaluable to Chen Nan.

  In the days that followed, he encountered a strange old man in the archives.

  The man was ancient beyond measure—his eyes cloudy and dull, his teeth long gone. His wrinkled skin sagged like crumpled parchment, and a sparse handful of hairs clung feebly to his bald head.

  The first time Chen Nan saw him, he nearly jumped in fright, mistaking him for a vengeful ghost who had risen from the grave. Out of courtesy, he always greeted the old man with a polite smile whenever they crossed paths, but he had never spoken to him.

  One day, as Chen Nan was engrossed in another dry historical text, an aged voice suddenly sounded behind him.

  "Young man, you have quite the passion for history."

  Startled, Chen Nan nearly leaped out of his seat. Like a specter, the old man had appeared behind him without a sound, standing less than a foot away. He silently berated himself for getting too absorbed in his reading.

  "Ah, yes. I do enjoy it," Chen Nan replied. "But there don't seem to be any truly ancient texts here. The oldest records only go back five thousand years."

  "Oh? You enjoy ancient texts? Can you read them?"

  "I can, to some extent. I have some knowledge of archaic script and can decipher most ancient texts." He lifted the book in his hand and added, "Look, this one is written in characters from four thousand years ago. Though more intricate than modern writing, it's still legible."

  Chen Nan was not exaggerating—he had a keen sensitivity for language. Moreover, the current continental script had evolved from the ancient script of the original Xianhuan Continent. By comparing the two, he could easily recognize texts from transitional periods.

  For a fleeting moment, he had the uncanny impression that a green light flashed through the old man’s murky eyes.

  "Why do you enjoy reading ancient texts?" the old man asked.

  "I'm fascinated by ancient myths and legends," Chen Nan replied. "I want to learn more about them from historical records."

  The old man chuckled, a sound so eerie that it sent a chill down Chen Nan’s spine.

  "If you can truly read ancient texts, young man, I’ll take you to another library. That one holds the real ancient records—far older than anything here."

  Chen Nan was overjoyed, but at the same time, he began speculating about the old man’s identity. It was clear that this elder was no ordinary person; otherwise, he wouldn’t have the authority to lead him into another library at will.

  They passed through the front hall and walked toward the rear chamber. The back hall was eerily silent. As the heavy doors swung open, rows upon rows of bookshelves came into view, packed with ancient, timeworn books.

  The moment Chen Nan stepped into the archive, he sensed a faint, elusive fluctuation in the air—like a trickling stream, like a passing breeze. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, yet undeniably present.

  "Seriously? Have these ancient books gained sentience or something? Why is there a fluctuation like this?" Now that the restrictions on his body had completely vanished and his spiritual perception was fully restored, his sensitivity to external energies was far sharper than that of an ordinary person.

  The old man seemed utterly oblivious and said, "Look, this entire place is filled with ancient texts. Most of them are priceless, one-of-a-kind manuscripts. If you can read them, this place is nothing short of a treasure trove."

  "A treasure trove?" Chen Nan was puzzled.

  The old man explained, "Among these books are countless works on martial arts, magic, medicine, and poisons—many of which are long-lost techniques. Even the royal scholars tasked with compiling and translating them have only managed to decipher a fraction. The question is, how proficient are you in ancient script? If your knowledge surpasses that of the Hanlin scholars…"

  Before the old man could finish, Chen Nan had already dived into the piles of books.

  For days on end, he immersed himself in the depths of ancient history. This left Nalan Ruoshui utterly astonished. When she accidentally discovered that Chen Nan could read ancient texts, she was so shocked that her mouth fell open. But when he later presented her with a meticulously transcribed medical text from one of the ancient books, she let out an excited shriek.

  "Heavens! The Medical Sage’s Notes! Tell me I’m not dreaming!" Overcome with joy, she threw her arms around Chen Nan.

  Feeling the softness of her embrace, Chen Nan was momentarily intoxicated. He instinctively tried to return the hug, but her delicate form had already slipped away, leaving behind only the sound of her light laughter in the distance.

  From that day on, every time Chen Nan saw Nalan Ruoshui’s smile, his heart would involuntarily race.

  "Maybe I should find another medical text for her today… who knows, maybe…"

  "Kid, stop daydreaming. Look at you, acting like a love-struck fool. It’s embarrassing to share the same gender with you." A voice cut in mockingly. Old Poison Freak had propped himself up on the courtyard wall, peering over just in time to deliver his usual verbal jab.

  "You perverted old man! Spying on me again? That’s beyond disgusting! I swear, I’ll buy a string of firecrackers, light them up, and toss them straight into your courtyard!"

  As the two became more familiar, their exchanges grew increasingly playful, to the point where their greetings became little more than mutual ridicule. However, Chen Nan never dared to jest with the Old Witch. The way she flitted between the eastern and rear courtyards made him uneasy, as if she were constantly lurking in the shadows.

  "You wouldn’t dare! If you set off those firecrackers, I’ll make sure you collapse within seven steps, lose your soul within ten, rot to the bone within thirteen, and dissolve into nothing by fifteen!"

  "Damn, you twisted old freak!" A chill ran down Chen Nan’s spine. Without hesitation, he turned and hurried out of the residence.

  Today, Nalan Ruoshui hadn’t performed acupuncture on him, saying she needed to thoroughly study the Medical Sage’s Notes before continuing his treatment.

  When he arrived at the ancient library, the old man was already there, waiting.

  "Not bad, young man. It seems you really do have some talent for ancient script and can actually decipher those texts. Today, I have a small favor to ask of you."

  "Oh? Please, speak, elder. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll certainly do my best."

  The old man took out a yellowed ancient book from his chest and placed it on the table. He then picked up a brush and began copying the contents onto a sheet of paper. In no time, the entire page was filled with writing.

  "Here, can you help me translate what's on this paper?" he asked.

  Chen Nan took the paper and glanced at it. The sentences were completely incoherent. "Elder, these sentences don't make sense. Did you make a mistake in copying them?"

  The old man replied, "Just translate it, no need to worry about whether it makes sense or not. Can you translate three of these for me every day?"

  "Sure, no problem." Chen Nan thought to himself, "This old man is really paranoid, breaking up the sentences like this for me to translate. Damn, he's really going all out to keep things secret. What kind of book is this?"

  His earlier sense of goodwill toward the old man vanished. He realized that the eccentric elder had always intended to use him for translating this book.

  The writing on the paper, based on Chen Nan's estimate, appeared to be in characters from around six or seven thousand years ago. Though only a few dozen characters were written, they contained words like "god" and "corpse," terms that made Chen Nan particularly sensitive. This only deepened his curiosity about the book.