If you could describe the smell of ancient, what would you say? Grisla stepped far to the left, avoiding a book pile. The interior’s paint was cracked; and the slouched chandeliers were an accident waiting to happen. Each section of the place had varying amounts of light for the corridors, and at the walls, totally different light emitted from the booths which served independent study. Their candles in their booths had individualized amounts of light suited for their preference. It was early, not even a handful of minutes past dawn. Yet, they were here. Eyes pouring over their materials, some wielding pen and ink, scribbling and reading or reading and scribbling.

Grisla stopped, grinning all the while.

  This must be what heaven feels like.

Although there was a group inside, the area was like sitting at the bottom of the ocean; the most ruckus came from his own breathing and heartbeat—and still he felt as if he was causing a disturbance. The flooring was marvelously shiny, maybe stained here and there, but that was owed to the scrolls of years before his time rotting above them. Grisla saw far ahead what he was walking towards, a girl who despite the deadness of this place, was a blooming spring flower.

Back at the clan’s library, he’d find it hard to catch a day when the receptionist wasn’t sleeping—it was a wonder how anything got done at all with that work ethic. That library in the Lower Halls was dwarfed in both magnitude and splendor. In fact, it would likely be embarrassing to mention his clan’s archives here in a comparison. He’ll keep that under his tongue.

Grisla bent over to pick up a stray tome lying in the middle of the floor, put it to the nearest shelf, then continued. When he made it to the receptionist—

  “…Back.” She whispered.

  “Huh?” Grisla remembered where he was, “What did you say?” he whispered back.

  The girl frowned slightly and whispered again.

  He made a face, “Big Sis, I really can’t understand you. Please if you could—”

  She yanked his collar close, “I SAID, PUT IT BACK! WHAT’RE YOU, DEAF?”

Grisla blinked, then turned his head back to the book he touched before and pointed. The receptionist nodded and released him. Thereafter he made his short walk of shame, under the eyes of all within earshot—not earshot, because everyone and anyone will hear them above the nothingness, the reverberations did their part too.

He strangely picked the tome up again, retraced his steps, and placed it right back as he found it. Looking to the receptionist to make sure he hadn’t misheard. Under her nod, the book was left… back on the cold floor. Grisla took two steps then—

  “Shu,” A woman’s voice said from, seemingly, all directions.

  At an instant, Receptionist Shu’s posture straightened. “Grand Archivist!”

  “How many times have I told you, that being in the archives means being more silent than a stone?”

  “Too many,” and, from Grisla’s point of view she disappeared behind the counter to kowtow as low as her spine could allow, “I am a foolish girl! I must be disciplined for this error! Please, Grand Archivist!”

  A sigh. “Just keep it down. It’ll be impossible for you to get married at this rate, if you’re scaring off every man you meet.”

  The desk thumped. “What did you say!”

  “Shu.”

  “I’m sorry!”

The fourth cycle Grisla was able to pick up the small traces of restrained laughter in the archives. And she, was still beet red upon coming back up. Though her voice got reigned in, the intensity of her glare made Grisla think she’ll explode on him unpredictably.

  Shu smiled, “Please, we can’t talk if you’re that far away.”

  That imposter’s smile, I’m familiar with.

Grisla groaned silently as he approached again.

  “My apologies,” her smile twitched, “I see you’re a guest, welcome to the Earth Archives. What brings you here?”

  “Why indeed…” Grisla said, gaze wandering. Even the mere desks spoke the language of the ancients, though the years have passed, and time reached for them, not even one he had laid eyes upon since coming here shown any clue of deterioration. Instead, they almost looked like they’re still alive and breathing from the source they were chopped from.

  A chair from here could buy me a week’s worth—no, two weeks of cultivation material. This’s strange, the place should be the equivalent to the libraries back over in the clan’s Lower Hall. Yet, back home the place looks like as if it were funded by paupers. Unless this is intentional?

The Rei’s courtyards came to him, all show, no substance. He did doubt that, and as such, reserves his judgement for after he leaves.

Saving his speculation for later, Grisla opened his mouth: “I’d just like to browse, I’m not in the hunt for anything in particular, is that fine?”

  “Is dying in the gutter outside fine?”

  “Pardon?”

  Shu rolled her eyes. “That was a joke.”

  “I’ve forgotten to laugh,” he bowed, “apologies.”

“The answer’s no. In our sect if you want to browse freely, you’ll need to either be an Inner Disciple, of which case it’ll be pointless because you wouldn’t be wasting time in the Earth Archives anyways, or an official guest sanctioned with a badge. You, look like neither, so you’ll have to declare and state your intentions and what you’ll be browsing on the ledger while under watch.” She quietly slammed a book, which was the largest he’d ever seen on the desk. Dipped pen already tucked between the crack of it.

Grisla, somewhat amused, said: “What makes you think that?”

  “I see all walks of life come through this place, it doesn’t take long to be able to make snap judgements that are, with a small margin of error, correct.” Shu looked him up and down as to remind him of what she did earlier.

  “Your cultivation’s pitifully low, stride too casual, and plain on your face that this’s the first you’ve ever seen a place like this. Maybe the last you ever will. I don’t know if you’re some sixth prince from a no-name dynasty or the heir of a trading conglomerate. Mind filling the blanks in?”

Grisla wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

  I mean, she asked for it…

  “Big Sis,” he innocently smiled, “if I did have either of those requirements, what would you say?”

  Shu rolled her eyes, “Okay, I think I’ve heard enough. You’re free to go.”

  “What?”

  “If you somehow think you can magically fool me by just saying that, then you’re mistaken. What’s next,” she giggled, “you’re going to tell me you’re a Grittus clansman? If that’s true, then I’ll have to apologize and beg for forgiveness.”

  “So,” Grisla raised an eyebrow, “Grittus clansmen are revered here?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Revered?” Shu closed her eyes. “It’s more than that, every year when that clan’s disciples visit the sect to exchange pointers, there’s a crowd that’s just as packed as it would be for the Sect Head herself! For juniors, mind you.”

  “A little bird told me there is a Grittus guy here, somewhere. Now that’s a golden egg you don’t miss. Aah!” Shu scrubbed her hair, “Because I’ve been cooped up in here, I won’t even get a chance at seeing him. Although the Grittus clan is mostly divided up into a couple of families, it is true most of them have black hair."

There was a mirror to the side of him.

  Oh, right. I’m not wearing the clan’s colors.

Grisla blinked, Not anymore.

  I did say for Jadestone to keep my presence here a secret, but I guess that’s gone up in smoke. It is a tall order to ask for all of it to be held under lock and key, so for the time being, I can only hope she’s kept the very specific end of the bargain; leaving the clan in the dark to buy myself some time.

He rubbed the medallion around his neck.

  “Ah, I guess that plan failed.”

  “Your definition for ‘plan’ is generous.”

  “Well, the fact you made it this far means you aren’t totally worthless.” Shu shrugged. “If you write your name, and detail here, here and here you can go on your way.”

Grisla went ahead and wrote down the specifics: Grisla; Research & Study; Hunting for a Cultivation Technique to replace my current.

  As she leaned on the counter she said, “Sorry to drop this, but we don’t loan cultivation manuals to outsiders. Maybe if you were a special guest, or one of our own it’d be possible. You’re free to read however much you like, but you’re not allowed to copy, transcribe or annotate the stuff here.”

  “It’s almost like I’m under surveillance for suspected thievery.”

  “Since the moment you stepped in here,” she pointed up, “you are."

When they both looked up, of all the broken, crooked, and disastrous chandeliers Grisla saw so far, this one was fit to sit in a room like this. As Grisla inspected it further, it absolutely carried the same design as the rest, just this one managed to escape destitution somehow. Glass spheres clutched within claws imitating that of a dragon’s; one of them mirrored the boy standing below. When he was able to look at his own image, he could feel a faint spiritual presence tickling him. An observer for sure.

  Thinking he’s afraid, she said, “Well, s’long as you’ve got nothin’ to hide, you’ve got nothing to fear, right?”

  Grisla did a half-nod.

His receptionist did a once-over on the ledger, but the way she so casually did it made Grisla believe that, if in the event he was fraudulent, none of the consequences would matter anyways as he was ‘factually harmless’.

After that, Grisla turned to begin the search and before that—

  “Is there something else?” Grisla said.

  “Yeah,” she scoffed. “I’m required to give all first-timers a tour around the spot. This is more painful for me than it is for you, I’ll say.”

  As they walked, Grisla gave her a look. “If the Grittus guy was here, what then?”

  “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. Jealous? Curse your birth, and hope you roll a good fortune in your next life, my advice."

Shu’s guided tour for Grisla proved to be not as pointless as he suspected. There were subsections that never existed back in his clan’s equivalent archives at this level. And the some that were created as their own shelf were simply merged into existing ones because of the lack of space, or, as he suspects, lack of expertise on whatever it was shelved for.

During which, his eyes couldn’t help but give a brief look at the disciples in their booths, on a cursory inspection many of them sat at the fifth cycle, at minimum. Trying to look further into someone’s core is a rather rude gesture, and, perceived as a hostile action. He wasn’t in the place or position to do such a thing, so he left it at that.

They were all people of different shapes and sizes; gender variety went up too. That scholarly sternness as they studied wasn’t a whit unlike what they held back home. No matter where you go, all cultivators desired the same thing—to follow the Path.

  “Here, there’s a few excerpts and journals saved from some of the greatest Shade Beast hunters our Sect has had to offer…” Shu narrated.

Grisla was half-listening. He had already guessed which place he’ll have to go to find what he needs. A cultivation manual to hold him over was a desperate need of his, because since the event four years ago, he’s been deprived of any articles to rebuild his strength at home; revoked access, denied privileges he’d still retain as a clan member, and the more he thought about it, it wouldn’t be a reach to assume that was one of the Patriarch’s doings too.

Not allowed to take things out? That’s fine with him. It made little difference anyways, if he stayed as a guest within the Jade Fate Sect, he could revisit whatever he’s interested in at any time. Seri and he shared the same sentiment, that while he was away it would be best to absorb whatever he can until he was ready for White Tiger’s teaching again.

Soon, they passed the largest pileup of scrolls, tomes, and novels he’d seen since coming here. A remiss treatment to both the texts themselves and to the cleanliness proposed here. Shu hadn’t said a word about them, in fact, she began talking about the next section adjacent to them. The reason being was visibly inferable: A trash pile.

  “Take a look at this tome here—for a philistine like yourself, I’ll explain that this is the first edition of ‘Swords, Spears & Arrows’ by Silver Light. Personally, if you ask me such a thing shouldn’t be in the Earth Archives but—”

  “Shu,” Grisla said.

  “What? Don’t tell me you’re a second edition shill.”

  It was Grisla’s time to be confused, “What? No, I have a question. What can you tell me about that pile behind us?” he shot a thumb over the shoulder.

  Shu looked behind him to make sure she herself hadn’t missed something, but in her vision was nothing but— “What, the trash heap?”

He nodded.

  “I’m lost, what do you need?”

  “I’m asking what’s the status of the throwaways.”

  She made a skeptical face, “That? You serious? Well…”

It was at this time Grisla knew she’d concluded that she was speaking to not only a wannabe swindler, but a beggar too.

  “Everything in there is just a bunch of incomplete manuals, garbage literature and maybe a note or two on how to make sure you’re not reborn as yourself. If this is pertaining to the stipulations we have on you then since that’s stuff is basically trash, you’re free to do whatever you like with it. Hopefully, you have a little bit of respect left and don’t use them for wipes.”

Grisla sneered, This bitch.

Even his patience has its limits, pleasing to the eye or not, she was the most talkative girl he’d ever met. And how does that work in a library of sorts?

  “Really,” Grisla bowed. “Then I’ll thank you for your efforts, but I can take the rest on from here."

  “Suit yourself weirdo, enjoy.” She smiled, likely relieved at the chance to ditch him early.

----------------------------------------

With the receptionist gone, Grisla was a decent distance out of earshot from anyone near.

  The medallion’s jewel blinked, “You got pretty lucky. How long do you think it’ll take for her to notice?” Seri said.

  Grisla’s glance followed the path Shu took back to her desk. “For my sake? Hopefully never.”

  “Would it be her fortune, or loss for all that development to go to her chest, which you couldn’t help to steal glances at?”

  “You said something?”

  She grunted. “Playing stupid again, typical Grisla.”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re implying,” he grinned. “More importantly, I’ll see what I can dig out.”

  “When you had the idea of coming here for a leg up, this is not what I imagined. Our substitute candidate, digging through the dregs left behind by rats. How we’ve fallen,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Whatever, this is just for my curiosity anyways. Even some snippets of martial teachings can bring inspiration for my own studies.”

  “Not a bad excuse for being a self-admitted dumpster diver.”

  “Uh-huh."

Grisla’s hands went to work pulling out whatever he touched on. He wasn’t expecting much, but even his expectations had been dampened by what he saw. Receptionist Shu was right—everything in this pile is useless so far, and he just chalked it up to an overpowering amount of laziness no different than the Archivist’s back home for not disposing of it already. Most of the scrolls fell apart the second he touched them, and the ones that didn’t were filled with gibberish or weren’t of much help at all, for the reasons the latter were discarded was because the texts were used as a sketchbook.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

He spent an evening inspecting whatever he could. Eventually, A scarce few weren’t complete trash—by his standards at least. Though, an excerpt or two told him that the intellectual enlightenment he was looking for was beyond his level to understand yet; filled with obtuse phrases and unseen symbols that made Elder Jinshi’s theorizing sound sensible. Sometimes Seri was able to translate, or in her words, “dumb down” the writing. In the end, even after what was written being explained to him, they turned out to be dead ends.

“Shu had a point. What am I doing here?” Grisla frowned. “I can spend another hour digging through this junk and all I’ll have to show for it is telling you a paraphrased explanation of how a Ventibeast can split themselves into two then merge later but end up killing themselves because of the unstable fusion. I’m not a Ventibeast, and the idea of splitting my core is beyond saying it’s out of the question.”

Hands raised in defeat, “Forget this, I’m outta here. The weapon master section sounds more promising,” Grisla said.

Getting up, he got as far as two steps then tripped; catching himself before he caused a scene. That caught Grisla’s attention.

  “I almost clocked out from that, the hell's that? I thought I checked through all the heavy stuff already.”

Retracing his steps, he saw a corner sticking out from underneath the pile’s remainders. Clearing what’s on top revealed a book—no, a textbook more like, caked in all the filth that one could gather from the entire Earth Archives it seemed. On close inspection, the cover was dyed a rich ebony, however, between that and the grime layered over it he couldn’t figure out at what layer did the filth end and the cover began. It was just too dirty to bother with a restoration attempt, perhaps a cremation would be deserved for such a pitiful thing.

Still, there was something about it that intrigued him. Drew him. Maybe it was his penchant for finding odd things, like the Sage’s medallion. In any case, Grisla will take a brief look then go back to what he’d planned to do.

  “What the?” Grisla raised an eyebrow.

The cover as mentioned before was caked in who-knows-what, but the title was spotless; letters a sanguine red that gave him a weird sensation, and, upon reading it he was interested. The title—

  SEVEN GATES OF HELL.