I handed the librarian a copy of a Tier 6 pill recipe scroll while keeping the original with me. Just in case there were hidden secrets that would only reveal themselves once I reached a certain stage of cultivation.
An array scroll would have been more appropriate since the librarian was an Array Conjurer. Still, I couldn't give up my trump cards so easily. They were trump cards I had to keep close to my chest in case of an emergency. The librarian would get more arrays when he became an inner sect elder.
The potion recipe, on the other hand, was useless to me. While I had some knowledge of ingredients and plants, my alchemy skills were almost non-existent, limited to making simple healing salves and minor concoctions. Alchemy was too rigid for my taste, unlike arrays, where you could adapt and change things as needed.
Suppose I ever became a Nascent Soul Cultivator. In that case, I'd have all the time in the world to explore pursuits beyond array conjuring. By then, the Sect would likely have found substitutes for the extinct ingredients in the Tier 6 recipe. I could obtain the perfected version along with all its benefits.
Even with improvements, I doubted the Tier 6 pills would drastically change the Sect's dynamics. Unlike arrays, which could be cast without rituals at higher mastery, alchemy always required ingredients. And even the substitutes for the Tier 6 recipe would be incredibly expensive. Only high-ranking members, perhaps those missing limbs, would have access to such pills.
Of course, that was still a remarkable advantage — the chance to restore someone who would otherwise be crippled for life.
The Sect probably had other ways to heal lost limbs. I vaguely recalled Song Song mentioning it a few times. But it couldn't be as simple as popping a pill.
The librarian took the scroll from his desk, unfurled it, and read in silence. His face remained unreadable, not a single twitch betraying his thoughts as his eyes scanned the recipe.
In the future, I wanted to observe the pill in action and translate its effects into an array.
Of course, it wouldn't be as potent as the pill—I'd never heard of a healing array that could regenerate limbs. Healing arrays were as rare as teleportation arrays. Ironically, I had both in the scrolls the immortal ghost had given me.
This expedition was a major success. Seeing everything come together filled me with pride. Getting the librarian out of his predicament and earning my rewards—I was the true victor of this expedition!
It took all my effort to maintain a calm facade, suppressing the urge to dance on the table out of sheer joy.
The librarian rolled the scroll and placed it back on the desk. He removed his glasses and began cleaning them with a silk cloth.
He said nothing. This was his usual habit when he was upset. Though he didn't look angry. But then again, he never did, even when he was.
Why would he be angry?
"So, when do you think you can deliver the scroll?" I asked, breaking the tense silence.
"No, this would be a waste," he replied.
Just like that, all the pride I'd felt, the satisfaction of a well-executed plan, crumbled like a fragile tower of glass.
"What? Why?" I asked.
I tried to stay calm, but some frustration inevitably slipped through. This was something I had carefully planned on my way here. The last thing I expected was for the librarian to refuse.
"Liu Feng, you're a young man with limited experience of the world, despite having gone on an expedition," the librarian said as he put on his glasses and turned to Song Song. "Lady Song, could you kindly explain to our young friend just how valuable a Tier 6 recipe is?"
Song Song snapped out of her daze, glancing between us. "Huh? Oh, yeah, Tier 6 pill recipes are about as valuable as a Level 6 Array."
"Please elaborate," the librarian pressed. "For instance, compare it to the value of an Inner Elder or even a Core Elder and a Tier 6 recipe."
"Well, a Tier 6 recipe is priceless. If there were a market where you could trade a Tier 6 recipe for a Core Formation Elder, the recipe would usually be considered more valuable," Song Song said, her attention drifting back toward the ceiling and occasionally toward the shelf where the old man had hidden earlier.
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"Yes, a Tier 6 recipe is far more valuable than the meager reward of making me an Inner Elder," the librarian nodded. "Keep the recipe for yourself. Or, if you don't want the attention that comes with a disciple presenting a Tier 6 pill recipe to the Sect, I can handle it for you. That way, you can get a fair reward and double your earnings. But please, I like to think of you as an intelligent young man. Don't make such careless mistakes."
Okay, now I could tell he was angry—his tone gave it away—but I was angrier. I may need to borrow a page from the old goat's book.
"I think the recipient of a gift should just take the damn gift and not whine about it," I said. "The recipe also requires extinct ingredients, so it's less valuable than a true Tier 6 recipe."
The librarian let me finish, ever the gentleman. But just as he was about to reply, I turned toward the door and started walking away.
"The Tier 6 recipe is yours. Do with it what you like," I said, cutting him off before he could speak.
By the time he was ready to respond, I was already outside the library door. And it had been a long day, so my hearing wasn't working all that well.
Song Song caught up to me, chuckling. "You can be pretty pushy when you want to. But your master was right — I've never seen anyone turn down a Tier 6 recipe. He's a good man."
"He'd be better if he knew how to accept gifts his disciple worked hard to obtain," I said.
"I think he understands how hard you worked," Song Song replied. "He's probably wondering what you went through to get it. You should consider his perspective. From his point of view, it might seem like you're offering everything you gained in this expedition."
That was a valid interpretation. Also, what the hell? Since when did Song Song become the local expert on social etiquette?
We descended the stairs, the full moon high in the sky, casting a silver glow that illuminated each step before us.
“If I took the librarian’s feelings into account, I’d never be able to get him into the inner sect,” I explained.
“That’s true,” Song Song agreed, a hint of amusement in her expression. “By the way, I don’t need to remind you to keep quiet about what you gained from this expedition, right?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not as naïve as you think,” I joked.
While the Tier 6 pill recipe had the potential to heal people, the Level 6 and 7 Arrays the immortal ghost had given me were an entirely different matter— the arrays were outrageously dangerous.
After descending the stairs, we quickened our pace, moving with the silent swiftness of vipers through the night. We moved so fast that any outer disciples wandering nearby wouldn’t catch even a glimpse of us. The only trace we left behind was the sound of the howling wind.
Before long, we reached the inner sect and approached our home. Shrouded in darkness, the mansion still carried an eerie aura that sent a slight chill down my spine, though I had grown used to it by now.
The vines clinging to its aging walls had spread wildly in our absence, creeping unchecked over the windows and doors. It was going to be a struggle just to open them. The overgrowth gave the building a neglected, almost haunted appearance, as if the wilderness was slowly swallowing it whole.
Maybe we should have cleared the plants entirely. Still, I liked how they looked, though I wasn’t looking forward to the effort it would take to manage them.
Perhaps I should create an array to deal with such inconveniences. The rapid growth of these vines certainly wasn’t normal for just a handful of days.
Sighing, I extended my hand as we passed through the gate. A series of security arrays activated, their protective sweep washing over us. From my palm, I released a handful of invisible wind blades. They weren’t strong enough to damage stone or sever limbs but had just enough force to trim the vines tangled around the mansion’s facade. With precise, controlled bursts, the wind blades sliced through the overgrowth, curbing the wild, haunted look of the place.
A small green hill shifted in the mansion's yard, and Speedy popped his head out. It seemed the mansion wasn't the only thing that had taken over in our absence. The turtle yawned, gave us a tired look, and promptly returned to sleep.
"Look at that," Song Song pointed to a corpse leaning against one of the trees, wrapped in vines and looking like a mummified figure. Judging by his blue robe, this was no ancient body.
"Looks like we had visitors while we were away," Song Song remarked.
More like a foolish disciple who thought he could steal something.
I approached the corpse and tore away the vines. As I suspected, the texture of his clothes was well preserved. Obviously, the corpse hadn't been here before, and someone hadn't just dropped a corpse in our yard.
"It seems the vines can drain blood," I said. "I've heard of plants with similar properties, but these don't resemble anything we have here. Maybe the overgrowth around the mansion was due to them using this poor guy as a nutrient source."
"Yeah, my mother planted them. She always had a habit of growing strange things, trying to make potions for her worsening health," Song Song said.
"Your mother was sick?" I asked.
Song Song shrugged. "Something like that. Anyway, I'm going to get some rest. I missed sleeping in a proper bed."
The mansion doors creaked open as she slipped inside, not waiting for a response.
It seemed her mother's health was a sensitive topic. I'd have to keep that in mind and avoid bringing it up again.
I shrugged and turned back to examine the corpse. There were scorch marks around his body, likely from the security arrays. But there were other injuries too — puncture marks, as if a syringe had been inserted, and bite marks, like a beast had gnawed at him.
I glanced over at Speedy and gave him a nod. "You're something else, little guy. Or maybe I should start calling you the Sleepy Guardian. The Sleepy Muncher?"