The books on the third floor differed significantly from those on the other two floors. While technically containing more valuable information, they also harbored numerous theories devoid of factual evidence.

I found myself engrossed in a book discussing a theory known as the Fate Theory. However, I opted to simplify its name for ease of remembrance. It delved into the concept of three wills governing the world, one of which was visible while the other two remained invisible.

The first will was the most apparent—the will of man. Through their actions, humans and other living beings could shape their surroundings, sometimes irreversibly. This will was observable to even the layperson, encompassing desires for freedom from mortal constraints, which cultivation sought to achieve.

The second will was the will of the heavens, a theoretical notion suggesting that heavenly forces might impede human progress beyond a certain point of cultivation and prevent them from entering the celestial realm.

Had the theorist consulted with immortals, he might have gained insights to verify his conjecture. However, lacking such encounters, he formulated his theory based on observations. If his conjecture proved accurate, he would indeed be a remarkable genius.

The book postulated a logical conflict between the wills of Heaven and Man—the former representing predetermined fate while the latter embodied individual free will.

The third will was the Will of the Earth, a regulating force that maintained balance and favored regression to natural states. The author posited that this will prevented unnatural things like the resurrection of the dead.

Although I harbored doubts about the latter assertion, I remained open-minded. My own unnatural experiences had broadened my perspectives, rendering me receptive to diverse possibilities.

What drew me to this book was the attempt to rationalize fate despite its heavily skewed and unproven nature, with a significant chance of being entirely erroneous.

I entertained the notion that individuals blessed by the heavens might possess an unnatural fate, replete with riches and opportunities, yet countered by the balancing force of the earth, which interjected misfortunes into their lives.

This framework was my closest approximation to understanding the enigmatic Hu Jin—a figure seemingly entwined with both fortune and disaster.

"You're delving into the musings of a lunatic?" Mao, the owl humanoid, interjected, his inscrutable owl visage betraying little emotion as he fixed his cold gaze upon me. "I knew the author of that tome. He rambled about bizarre notions, haunted by echoes of disasters from a century past. Despite his fervent efforts, the sole copy of his work, ensconced within this library, became his legacy before he leaped from out of a window on this very floor."

I scanned the cavernous confines around us. "There's a window here?"

Mao's confusion was palpable as he tilted his head. "You're fixated on the window? Even after hearing about a man's tragic death?"

"There's little merit in pondering the dead," I replied nonchalantly. "Only he knew the reasons behind his fateful leap. Speculating about his demise serves no purpose. It seems you're as puzzled by his death as I am."

I refrained from insinuating any foul play in the man's demise, wary of implicating Mao. After all, I had no desire to meet a similar fate—stabbed in the back and tumbling out a window, whether by accident or design.

Turning my attention back to the book, I noted its peculiar appearance: a cover reminiscent of stretched skin adorned with red ink and curious splatters that bore resemblance to blood. Though the thought of human skin covering such a tome seemed improbable, I doubted the sect would harbor such macabre artifacts in their library.

Closing the book, I returned it to its rightful place and turned my attention back to the owl-like figure. "So, about that window?"

Regardless of whether the book merely contained the ravings of a madman, the author possessed a unique perspective worth considering.

"This place does indeed have windows... for those who know where to find them," the owl man replied cryptically before departing.

I watched him go, noting subtle differences in his demeanor compared to our initial encounter. There might be multiple individuals like him. After all, Mao had referred to himself as a failed experiment, implying the existence of others subjected to similar transformations—if such experiments had indeed taken place.

Engaged in a flurry of theories, I maintained a composed exterior, much like my contingency plans in the event of the sect's downfall. With Hu Jin around, I had prepared for certain things that might come to pass.

Surveying the shelves, my gaze settled on a small pile of books in a corner—my acquisitions from previous visits. These volumes purportedly contained Earth Grade Techniques, surpassing the potency of mundane Mortal Grade Techniques found on the lower floors.

However, not all Earth Grade Techniques proved practical. Many were unfinished, arduous to master, or carried dire consequences. Moreover, each tome hinted at a mysterious element known as a 'Trace,' essential for their completion.

Despite exhaustive searches, the elusive Trace remained undiscovered within the library's vast expanse. While the prospect of uncovering it independently held allure, I harbored no qualms about wasting too much time on this. After all, this library had enough books to last multiple lifetimes. I might never be able to find a specific thing; this was not Google.

When it came to these things, there was no shame in asking for help.

"What exactly is this Trace phenomenon?" I inquired, hoping for clarification. "Some passages in these books suggest that a technique is only considered half-Earth Grade without it."

The owl sighed, pivoting back toward me and approaching until he was within a couple of feet. Seating himself cross-legged, he rested his feathery head on one palm, elbow propped on his leg.

"A Trace occurs in perhaps one out of a thousand perfectly executed techniques, and even then, it's a tentative concept," he explained, scratching his beak before elaborating further. "It involves someone performing a Trace to demonstrate a technique's potential, confirming its classification as an Earth Grade technique."

Though unconventional, the requirement for a Trace revealed the perceived weakness of these techniques compared to conventional Earth Grade ones. They were the rejects, although some were still good despite their classification.

Turning to a stack of books nearby, I retrieved a specific green tome titled 'Piercing Gaze.' It contained a technique capable of inducing headaches in those who met my gaze. However, anyone skilled in Qi manipulation could mitigate its effectiveness, rendering it impractical for widespread use.

Most techniques housed on the third floor were advanced iterations of Mortal Grade techniques, refined over time by talented practitioners to almost be as strong as Earth Grade techniques but lacking the elusive Trace.

Mao's explanation of the Trace phenomenon was somewhat evasive, cloaked in vague language that left the precise nature of a Trace unclear. Nevertheless, it seemed to be a discernible occurrence, recognizable when witnessed.

Despite my curiosity, I had no intention of pursuing the Piercing Gaze technique further. It was imperfect, Qi-dependent, and challenging to master, and it held little value for immediate acquisition.

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"Most Traces occur during combat, typically by cultivators in Foundation Establishment," the owl man continued, sensing my lingering interest in the topic. "But some believe it's not solely dependent on power; anyone proficient in Qi manipulation could inadvertently trigger a Trace."

Well, since he hadn't let go of the subject...

"What exactly is a Trace? Can you explain it again, but this time in a bit more detail?" I asked, watching Mao closely to decipher any subtle cues, though my efforts proved fruitless.

"A Trace represents the idealized form of a technique, often envisioned by its creator but never fully realized," the owl man explained, rising to his feet as his gaze flitted across the vast array of books, a peculiar gleam sparking in his eyes. "There are numerous theories surrounding how one might inadvertently tap into a Trace during combat. Some speculate that it hinges more on one's understanding and mastery of the technique rather than sheer power. Those who claim to have experienced a Trace tend to support this notion."

Once again, Mao skirted around a precise definition, leaving me to ponder whether his obfuscation was intentional or simply a consequence of imperfect communication—perhaps exacerbated by his unusual amalgamation of avian and human traits.

Just because a monstrous beast could speak, it did not mean they could communicate with us perfectly. Most monstrous beasts communicated their own way.

Drawing parallels, I likened the Trace concept to the xianxia equivalent of a critical hit, wherein a cultivator experiences a sudden enlightenment mid-combat, resulting in a surge of power.

However, dwelling on unattainable concepts served no purpose at my current cultivation stage. I replaced the Piercing Gaze book with another, opting to incorporate a half-Earth Grade Technique into my repertoire.

"Dancing Jade Armour?" The owl man poked his head too close to my face as if knowing nothing about personal space. "You're a pretty weird guy."

Did the birdhead just call me weird? If I were more easily annoyed, I might have responded with harsh words. But instead, I immersed myself in the book's contents.

"Any jade lying around here?" I inquired, hoping to procure the necessary materials for the technique.

"Yes!" Mao's sudden enthusiasm propelled him around a corner.

With him gone, I closed my eyes and tried to sense anything strange. But despite everything, it seemed there were no strange things around except for the owl guy. He was acting weird.

My leading theory about his behavior was that there were many more owl people who changed places with them occasionally. Well, at least that was the most exciting story. In reality, it was probably along the lines that the owl guy was trying to replicate how humans acted. But he was failing miserably and coming off as a multiple personality disorder thing.

I approached one of the walls and flipped through the green book.

Dancing Jade Armour was a good technique that acted as an active defense. It was not something passive like Turtle Shell Body, but lacking that passiveness, it increased overall defense when used, so it gave a way bigger defensive boost than Turtle Shell Body.

This was one of the most complete techniques here, and the only component lacking was hitting a so-called Trace.

I had no idea what changed after a technique got a Trace, but it must be something big if the people were so insistent on doing this before the technique could be qualified as an official Earth Grade.

"Here are the jades," Mao brought two jades the size of someone's head.

Was this guy secretly rich? I guess staying as the library's guardian must pay quite well. With Jades this size, I doubt even the librarian could get his hands on something like this.

After putting both the jades next to me, I took a deep breath and clapped my hands. A shimmering green diamond formed around me, acting like a barrier, but it lasted about two seconds before it broke.

"Huh, I thought I would get this on the first try. My talent really sucks," I sighed.

I chose the Dancing Jade Armour because it was very compatible with the rest of my fighting style. This technique worked somewhat like an array, so it was also the kind of technique I had the highest chance of turning into a true Earth Grade Technique.

My talent for arrays was not as good as I thought, as I would likely have to spend days learning this technique.

Hoot!—A strange owl-like noise from Mao broke me out of my thoughts, and I turned toward him.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"No..." he said before murmuring. "You're quite talented to be able to use something like that on your first try..."

Well, given what I knew about arrays and how many books about similar techniques I had read, it would have been embarrassing if I couldn't use this on my first try. Though each martial technique and branch of cultivation differed, they were still connected, and all this knowledge did amount to something. Reading so much about cultivation that others would consider useless most of the time had its benefits.

Anyway, the rich mineral Qi of the jades nearby was required to train with this technique. Thankfully, I wouldn't have to use my own Qi unless I used the technique in actual combat.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated entirely on the Qi around me and the energy coming from the jade. Now that my Qi senses had evolved and were on the verge of breaking into Qi Gathering, I had come to an understanding...

Everything in the world had Qi, even immaterial things...

Further, I needed to sense things further, even things that I could never imagine. I needed to break through that mentality from my last world, which was that the world was just the things I could see or touch.

It was surprisingly easy to get my mind in a suitable space, and my senses expanded as a bead of sweat rolled down my brow.

I was actively controlling the range of my Qi senses... just two more things, and I would break through. I could do it right now.

Yes, this was it. I truly felt a breakthrough right now! Almost there!

"Dancing Jade Armour," I muttered under my breath and clapped my hands.

One of the weaknesses of this technique was that I had to keep my hands clapped when activating it. It was quite a significant drawback, especially for someone who used fist techniques. But it was something I could get rid of...

I let go of my hands and held them by my side, smiling as the barrier stood up. However, it was technically not a barrier and was more of a jade-like construct.

Yeah, I could feel it now. It was so clear before, the Qi inside me. There was no way to move it; I had no experience with that. But when using arrays, I knew how my words, hand seals, and rituals could nudge the Qi around the world to form certain things.

So I had to try and nudge my Qi...

But just as I was about to take that final step, my legs buckled, and I almost fell face-first onto the hard stone floor. I barely stopped myself from smashing my face to the ground by using my arms to hold myself up.

"Huh, it seems like I accidentally used my own Qi instinctively," I said while slowly letting myself lay down on the cold stone floor. "If only I had a little more Qi to use."

Damn, this kind of sucked. If I had taken a Qi Replenishing Pill before this whole thing, I would have broken through today! But then again, it wasn't like I knew this would happen, so no use worrying about something like this.

However, I could now sense the meager Qi moving through my body. I was literally a hair away from breaking through!

After some time, I rested well enough to stand up, and immediately after doing so, I took out a notebook and began writing down my stats.

Name: Liu Feng

Age: 16 → 17

Talent: C (fifty-three spirit root branches)

Cultivation: Body Tempering (nine-star)

Strength – 8.9 → 9.3

Agility – 8.9 → 9.2

Endurance – 8.9 → 9.8

Qi – 0 → ?

Techniques:

- Sonic Fang Fist (Mortal Grade)

- Rushing Bull Step (Mortal Grade)

- Turtle Shell Body (Mortal Grade)

- Dancing Jade Armor (semi-Earth Grade)

- Falling Moon Claw (Earth Grade)

Skills:

- Array Conjurer - Level 1 (Practitioner)

Since my birthday passed a couple of weeks ago, I should also change my age. Birthdays were only important here if it was the tenth birthday when someone could officially begin practicing the family's martial arts. Even then, most never celebrated such trivial things unless they were rich.

The Qi stat was still unknown since I had created no measuring number for it and qualified what 1 in Qi would signify.

Today was another day in my life, though it had been a bit more exciting than average. I rarely got this kind of excitement of almost breaking through.

I turned toward the owl, who was just looking at me, and I asked. "What?"

"N-Nothing," said the owl, looking intimidated for some reason.