I settled onto the stone base on the library's third floor, stitching together a thick binder of pages and a rugged leather cover. Making a book from scratch was tedious, especially when it was as thick as this, and I had to sew the pages together.

I smiled as I examined the book's dark cover, adorned with the inscription:

An Encyclopedia of Monsters — by Liu Feng.

But despite the momentary satisfaction of finally completing my side hobby, my thoughts still lingered on what my chubby friend had told me about Hu Jin.

There was a pattern of events I couldn't see, but strangely, I could sense something big coming soon. Perhaps I was just being paranoid, and the xianxia novels I read in my last life were twisting my senses.

But if what I feared came to pass, and Hu Jin stayed in the Sect. For something to cause trouble for the Sect, the creature would have to be at least at the level of a Nascent Soul Cultivator. Otherwise, it would perish before reaching the Sect's outer barrier.

A Nascent Soul Beast attacking the Sect while I was here would make this place unsafe! I would get squashed like a bug, perhaps literally. I had no idea precisely how monstrously strong a Nascent Soul Cultivator was.

There was a 50% chance I would make the wrong choice, like flipping a coin. However, I still couldn't dismiss the possibility that I might be overreacting, but I pushed that thought aside for now.

If I took too long to decide, Song Song would set off on her own. She would likely defend one of the big cities with her position while the elders and upper echelons remained at the Sect. That was usually the case.

Journeying in winter, when animals preyed on humans and danger filled the roads, I would likely die chasing after Song Song once she left.

Ultimately, the decision wasn't about gambling on a fifty-fifty chance but choosing the path with the least danger. In this case, it would be best to venture outside. Even if Hu Jin was nearby, he would have to confront his own challenges. Which hopefully won't be a Nascent Soul creature. I cared little whether he obtained a random power-up; he would deal with these things on his own.

Unfairness existed even on earth. Some were born into wealth, while others toiled endlessly, with no chance of ever closing the wealth gap even if they worked tirelessly for the rest of their lives.

With that in mind, I harbored no jealousy or hatred towards Hu Jin as long as his problems didn't intrude upon my life.

Considering we were outside the threat level needed to trouble Hu Jin, it didn't have to be a Nascent Soul Monster. Even if Hu Jin chose to stay behind, I'd be far enough away to be unaffected, even if the Blazing Sun Sect vanished upon my return.

Rather than a coin toss, I preferred a logical, safer choice. Plus, I held some sway with Song Song. If Hu Jin somehow ended up in our group, I could arrange for him to join another team.

My decision was made, and I would go with Song Song. Now, I just needed to make it seem natural. Explaining my theories would be a hassle; she'd probably think I was crazy. However, that didn't necessarily mean I had to lie.

How should I explain something like this to her?

I rushed downstairs, finding Ye An effortlessly on the first floor, engrossed in an untitled book, likely from her storage ring.

Before I could speak, she turned to me. "Finally, you're here. Since I'm stuck with you, I've been brainstorming ways to put you to use."

"If it's too much, I'll pass," I replied promptly.

Only one woman could be so blunt about her intentions and still command my attention: Song Song. But Ye An occupied the opposite end of the friendship spectrum compared to her.

"Anyway," she continued, unfazed by my remarks. "Have you seen any books about Extreme Physiques?"

Extreme Physiques? That condition arose when someone possessed more than a hundred spirit roots.

Suddenly, it all made sense. No wonder she was in such a hurry...

"I know of a few," I muttered quietly.

Usually, I might have felt some sympathy. But this was Ye An, someone I had no affection for. It would be intriguing to witness her Extreme Physique in action; they were exceedingly rare, appearing perhaps once in a millennium. Little was known about them; some considered it a medical anomaly, while others saw it as divine retribution against excessive talent.

I tried to suppress any signs of excitement.

"Wait here, I'll fetch some books," I said, ascending to the second floor. After a brief search, I retrieved three books I had perused before.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

While the books contained scant useful information on Extreme Physiques, I did my best. Though I didn't feel remorse about her drastically shortened lifespan, it was a perilous reality in this dangerous world, worse than the Wild West era.

Descending the stairs, I handed the books to Ye An, noticing the librarian's disapproving glance from the corner of my eye.

Extreme Physiques were random occurrences, not hereditary, granting unparalleled talent with severe drawbacks.

Could such conditions be artificially induced? Could spirit roots be manipulated through other means?

Ye An flipped through the pages, then frowned, closing the books. She met my gaze. "Have you read these?"

"Yes."

"Could you just give me a summary? I don't want to waste time," she asked, seemingly expecting me to refuse.

But unlike before, she now had the knowledge I wanted. I was willing to overlook some of her past transgressions, at least temporarily, until I uncovered all there was to know about her.

"Yes, I'll explain. But first, could you tell me what type of Extreme Physique you have?" I inquired.

Extreme Physiques came in various forms, with no two being exactly alike.

"People have dubbed it the Eight Ice Flowers Extreme Yin Physique," she replied.

Quite the mouthful, but lengthy names like that were par for the course. If I ever invented something, I'd give it a long name just to irk future generations. Misery loves company, after all.

"I have until I turn eighteen before my body succumbs to an explosion of ice," she continued. "Though by seventeen, I'll likely be driven mad by the pain. Certain legendary Yang Element Herbs and Pills could extend that time limit to twenty-one..."

She gritted her teeth, her eyes bloodshot, her expression icy. "I stumbled upon a Yang Herb. But a certain red-haired bastard stole it from me..."

Of course, Hu Jin was involved somehow.

"May I test and try to sense your spirit roots?" I asked out of politeness.

"Sure, go ahead," she nodded, and I placed a hand on her shoulder, attempting to sense her spirit roots.

My senses were overwhelmed by a torrent of Qi, disorderly and chaotic. Then, I was assailed by a blinding light. No, it was not a literal light, just an illusion as my mind struggled to comprehend what I was sensing.

Spirit roots were metaphysical, tangible only through Qi. The fewer spirit roots someone had, the harder they were to sense. Usually, they appeared as dull, branching lights with hair-like tendrils. But this was different. Her spirit roots spread throughout her body, growing more intense by the second. It felt like an endless onslaught, akin to a relentless cancer.

I quickly withdrew my hand, a bead of sweat trickling down my forehead. "I see, so that's how you're likely to explode when the time comes—because you have too many spirit roots."

Despite the situation, I had gleaned something new: individuals with Extreme Physiques could somehow increase the number of their spirit roots, which wasn't a boon in their case.

"Your sensory abilities are truly remarkable," she remarked. "It seems you've improved even further."

"You could say that. Also, I'm incredibly envious of your spirit roots. How many do you have now?" I inquired, massaging my forehead to ease the migraine from the influx of information.

What a peculiar sensation. Yet, oddly enough, I found it somewhat exhilarating. Though Ye An's condition was exceedingly rare and seemingly devoid of practical knowledge, it held a strange allure.

"I'd estimate close to a hundred and sixty spirit roots," she replied. "It's likely the only reason my cultivation didn't collapse entirely during my battle with Song Song."

"Hmm..." I rubbed my chin. "Are your spirit roots somehow stabilizing your chaotic Qi?"

"Yes," she confirmed without hesitation, seemingly prepared for my discovery. "I can sense that you're mainly interested in how my roots and talent continuously increase. An Extreme Physique is a talent bestowed by the heavens, yet cursed."

"I'd argue it's more akin to a metaphysical anomaly with peculiar benefits," I countered.

She appeared perplexed. "Anomaly?"

Ah, right. There was no concept of anomalies like cancer in this world.

"Think of it as a kind of illness," I explained briefly.

Before I could delve deeper into my thoughts on this newfound knowledge and begin forming theories, Ye An interjected, "If you're likening it to an illness, do you know of a cure?"

A cure for cancer? No. But cultivators approached such matters differently.

"This is purely theoretical, but ancient texts suggest that an immortal's body ceases to age or change in any way. It's as if the body freezes in time. So theoretically, becoming immortal should halt the progression of your 'illness'," I suggested.

She might possess an Extreme Physique, but ascending to the immortal realm in three years was highly improbable.

Glancing at Ye An, I expected disappointment. Instead, her eyes sparkled with hope.

"Remember, this is just a half-baked theory of mine, so don't get your hopes up too much. The notion of immortals ceasing to age could be nothing more than a metaphor," I cautioned.

"Song Song was right, you're actually quite clever," she nodded, then seemed poised to leave. However, she halted before taking a step, turning back to me with a knowing look. "By the way, it was wise not to have me killed back then. My death would have triggered my spirit roots to explode in a burst of ice, lethal even to a Foundation Establishment Cultivator. You saved both your life and hers. Song Song is fortunate to have someone like you at her side."

I remained frozen, processing the revelation that she had a contingency plan in case of her demise. It made sense, yet I hadn't considered it then and had nearly allowed Song Song to finish the job.

"Song Song is fortunate to have someone who reins in her impulses and makes sound decisions," she added, her gaze distant, indicating her mind was elsewhere despite her words.

It felt peculiar to hear such praise from someone who typically insulted me.

Honestly, it was somewhat unsettling, coming from her.

When did the conversation even start going this way? I was here to tell her my decision.