Hearing Mac's explanation, Trevor's face, which had been pale before, now looked like that of a living dead man.

He had a blank stare that was directed downwards, his head was down and his arms seemed to have lost all their strength. Nervous breathing and uncontrolled twitching of the lower lip.

The reason for this was the knowledge of life situations in the practice of other cultivators who had received or inflicted internal injuries on themselves while practising spiritual techniques.

Such injuries could cause not only an absolute loss of future cultivation or the loss of an already achieved cultivation, but there were also cases where such injuries caused a cultivator's slow death due to uncontrolled energy in their body.

Looking at Trevor's face, Mac decided to calm him down immediately.

"Trevor! Trevor, can you hear me?" Mac said loudly and confidently until Trevor turned his head to him and waved it in agreement with Mac's words, "Calm down! You're not dying now. It's just an internal injury. You'll feel better soon!", Mac said in a calm but confident voice.

The tone in which Mac spoke and what he said brought Trevor back to his senses. But the fear, anger and despair had not disappeared.

"Really, what about the blood? What about the internal injuries?", a sad expression on his face and a trembling voice were a clear manifestation of Trevor's inner feelings.

"Yes, there are internal injuries, but they can heal. Because I see that everything is not as serious as you think, and therefore you need to get down to earth and start cultivating gradually, little by little. To somehow disperse the spiritual energy through your body, which would help heal your internal injuries." With that, Mac began to help Trevor sit on the ground and begin to cultivate.

But Trevor still did not believe his words. He began to resist Mac's actions, but he still sat him down on the ground. Although this made Trevor even angrier.

"It's an internal cultivation injury!" Trevor shouted, "Don't you understand that I'm already crippled, and worse, dead!" his voice sounded in the air, reminiscent of a desperate cry of a wounded animal in its last moments of life. Tears poured out of Trevor's eyes in a large stream.

Mac took a deep breath and quickly exhaled through his nostrils. He looked at his friend angrily.

"You will NOT DIE. You hear me? YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DIE! Well, at least not now. So calm Down!", Mac growled angrily at Trevor.

Mac looked at my friend intensely. He took a calm breath and exhaled the air through his mouth. He calmed down a bit and continued, "Start cultivating and everything will be fine."

Trevor stared at Mac with teary eyes, dazed, and afraid to move.

A thick clot of blood came out of his mouth again.

"Khah, kha."

Mac shouted, "Cultivate! Now!" Hearing the shout, Trevor immediately began to cultivate.

No matter how much they shouted, no one came to their noise. It was indeed a dense, dense forest.

Mac thought for a few minutes and asked, "Hey Trevor, you carry the yellow grass leaves with you, right?"

"Well, yes. You know I always carry this herb with me," Trevor answered tiredly, tasting blood in his mouth.

"Do you also have any of those dark green leaves as long as two phalanges of your finger, with dark blue streaks? In short, do you have any marsh primrose leaves?"

It was a herb that had the opposite properties of yellow grass, which heals external wounds and helps fight fatigue.

Instead, the leaves of the marsh primrose could not only improve the circulation of spiritual energy but also help heal internal injuries, although it had a drawback. It was quite expensive, due to its rarity and healing effect.

Trevor did not understand what was happening around him and asked, "What do you need it for now?"

Mac phlegmatically replied, "Not for me. You need them. So, do you have them? If so, get them!"

Trevor, who had not yet recovered from the thought of his death and Mac's shout, looked extremely confused. But he still strained his brain and, with a trembling hand, took a few yellow leaves and marsh primrose leaves from his trouser pocket.

"These are the ones you were talking about?"

Mac smiled and asked, "Yes, they are. Where did you get them?"

Squinting his eyes as he remembered something, Trevor said, "Well, a few days before I started practising rider's stance, Teacher Re gave me some marsh primrose leaves and told me to keep them for the future."

Mac smiled like a happy, well-fed cat.

"This herb will help reduce the pain of internal injuries and improve the circulation of spiritual energy so that your wounds heal faster. So eat it quickly!"

As soon as Trevor heard the explanation, a slight smile appeared on his face.

But it was unclear whether it came from the thought of how well his teacher cared about him, or from the fact that he was training with a book lover like Mac, or maybe because he was no longer afraid of dying.

Regardless of the reason for the smile, the longer Mac looked at him, the brighter the smile on Trevor's face became.

And as soon as Trevor was about to put the leaves in his mouth, Mac said defiantly.

"Hehe! Your teacher isn't so bad after all!" and although it might sound like an insult, Mac meant to praise Elder Re.

Trevor clearly did not understand the praise. His internal trauma, the taste of blood in his mouth, his death, and even Mac's screaming did not concern him now.

Trevor's gaze instantly became as sharp as two blades that could pierce Mac's body at any moment.

"How dare you talk about my teacher Re like that? Do you even know how..." Trevor shouted nervously, as he had great respect for his teacher and would have continued to shout if he hadn't been interrupted by Mac the next moment.

He instantly snatched the sheets out of Trevor's hand and quickly shoved them into Trevor's mouth.

Although Trevor was surprised by this action, his eyes were still full of anger.

Trevor wanted to say something again.

But Mac didn't respond, he just helped Trevor chew the grass by taking his hand on his lower jaw and gently raising and lowering it with the words "Chew".

Trevor understood what Mac wanted, but anger still shone through his intense eyes.

"Eat and cultivate!", Mac said loudly, as he realised how much he had angered his friend.

Trevor chewed the leaves carefully and swallowed them. He closed his eyes.

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He sat cross-legged. His hunched over body began to slowly cultivate. While Mac continued to practice his sword techniques and occasionally looked in Trevor's direction to make sure everything was going right.

This is how the next 2 hours passed.

When he finished cultivating, Trevor's face was no longer so pale.

The blood was slowly but surely moving through Trevor's body, giving his face a normal appearance. After wiping the croc off the corners of his mouth and chin, Trevor stood up and he and Mac walked slowly home.

At the same time, a young lady stood in front of the grand door decorated with intricate patterns, and that lady was Miss Rosalyn.

Like a nervous child, she bit her lip nervously, feeling the weight of anticipation and fear of the upcoming meeting.

Suddenly, the great doors opened in front of Miss Rosaline's face. She saw a young servant.

"Miss Rosaline, you may come in," the servant announced, inviting Miss Rosaline in.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and entered the room.

It was a spacious room with a magnificent wooden table in the middle, carved from a rare wood.

Behind the table sat an elderly man wrapped in a flowing white robe decorated with mysterious symbols. His long, silver beard fell gracefully on the table, shifting slightly from side to side as the old man's head moved while he wrote.

This venerable figure was none other than High Elder Stray.

Mrs Rosalyn entered the room, taking measured steps towards the imposing desk. She bowed respectfully and spoke, her voice full of reverence: "Adept, greetings to the Grand Elder!"

Though the Elder heard Miss Rosalyn's greeting, he did not react and continued his work calmly.

Her breathing became laboured and ragged. She occasionally cast cautious glances around the room.

There were many books in the room. Most of the books on the shelves looked old and tattered, though here and there there were recently written documents.

Miss Rosalyn waited patiently for the Elder to finish his work.

After a few minutes, the Elder finished writing his document. He cast a tired glance at its contents and exhaled a tired breath. Then, raising his head, his eyes met Miss Rosalyn's.

"What brings you to my office this time, Adept Rosalyn?" he asked, his tone of voice curious.

In the Silver Blade Sect, adepts were young people who had reached the level of Energy Core Saturation cultivation but remained members of the sect with the hope of becoming elders in the future.

"I've come to talk to you about your grandson... I mean, disciple Mac," Rosalyn replied, her voice trembling with fear.

Placing his right elbow on the table, Elder Strye clenched his palm into a fist, his face tense. "And what has my Grandson-Disciple done this time?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with hidden tension. At the same time, his spiritual energy was spreading rapidly through the room.

Miss Rosalyn instantly felt a strange discomfort. Her face turned white and she stammered nervously, trying to find the words.

"He... he... he," she stammered.

"He corrected you again during class? And you came here to get further clarification on this topic?" A glint of anger appeared in the Elder's eyes. While Miss Rosalyn's cheeks flushed.

"No, no. This time it's different," she shook her head and hand hastily, her excitement palpable.

"What is it then? Speak quickly," Elder Strye said with urgency, his gaze icy and unwavering.

"He... he wasn't in class," Miss Rosalyn finally managed to say, her voice trembling. She turned her head to the side and squinted her eyes in preparation for the Elder's wrath.

"Well, missing one lesson is nothing," the Elder replied dismissively with a wave of his hand, absorbing back his spiritual energy.

His answer surprised Miss Rosalyn.

"Not once!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, maybe twice. It's not such a serious matter. If he missed today, he will definitely come tomorrow," the Elder said lightly, and returned to the documents, believing the matter to be resolved.

"Not once or twice. He has been absent from every class for the past two weeks!" Miss Rosalyn's concern became apparent as she voiced her revelation.

Elder Stray's face turned serious. "What do you mean? He has not attended your classes for the past two weeks?" he asked, stunned by this revelation.

"Not only mine," Miss Rosalyn looked even more concerned, "I asked the other teachers and they all confirmed that Mac has not attended their classes for the past two weeks.

Elder Straye's face grew sombre.

"Well," he thought aloud, "I will certainly speak to him about it.

Nodding in agreement, Miss Rosalyn instantly said, "You must talk to him. Otherwise, I don't know what to do, how to..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Elder Strye spoke abruptly, his voice cold and firm. "I will not detain you any longer, Adept Rosalyn," he announced, lowering his head and returning to his papers, his mind absorbed in thinking about the reasons for Mac's behaviour.

Mrs Rosalyn looked at the elder, her confusion evident. She asked herself: "Was I in a hurry?".

After a moment of reflection, she realised what she had to do. The next moment, she quickly bowed her head in farewell.

"An adept bids farewell to a Grand Elder," Miss Rosalyn said.

Elder Stry remained unmoved by Miss Rosalyn's words, his attention unwavering, and he continued his work on the documents despite her words.

After that, Miss left the room.

At the same time, Mac and Trevor had already emerged from the depths of the forest, their footsteps echoing through the tranquil Sect's grounds.

The fading daylight cast unearthly rays on the surrounding space, colouring the landscape with the last rays of the day. With each passing moment, the silver moon was becoming more and more visible, casting its cold glow on the pitch black night that was steadily falling to the ground.

Despite 2 hours of strenuous cultivation, Trevor's internal injuries were still evident, preventing him from taking every step. His hunched posture and slow movements showed his constant struggle with pain.

Characteristically, Trevor's right hand was on his chest, as if to shield his vulnerable spot from the dangers of the world around him.

However, the internal injury was not the only thing that worried Trevor.

Looking for answers, he looked at Mac, and his eyes sparkled with interest. "Big brother, how do you know so much?" asked Trevor, his voice ringing with genuine interest.

Mac met Trevor's eyes. "What kind of knowledge are you talking about?", Mac replied, his voice weighed down by Trevor's over-interest.

"Well, you know, understanding energy channels, methods of training to increase physical strength, the secrets of the leaves of the marsh primrose. That sort of thing. Where did you learn all this?"

After saying the question, Trevor's eyes finally flashed with a bright flame.

Mac's face twisted into a wry smile as he replied, "I got it from the same source as most people, or rather, from where most people get their knowledge."

Puzzled, Trevor continued his interrogation, "Probably from other people?"

Mac replied phlegmatically, "I did get some of it from Elder Stry and the other Elders, but most of it came from the books in the Sect's library."

"Libraries? They have this information? I've never seen anything like it," Trevor admitted, his confusion mixed with growing suspicion.

"Hmm!" Mac smiled confidently, making a low humming sound. "Yes, it's from the Cult Library. But not from the 1st floor where you and the other disciples read books. This information is from the 2nd floor," he said, a slight tinge of smugness accompanying his words.

The Silver Blade Sect boasted a large library filled with manuscripts, treatises, scrolls, and books on various topics, including books on sword techniques. The library had three floors, each of which was divided into separate sections.

On the 1st floor, there are teaching materials for the Sect's disciples, as well as sword techniques books of the Energy Core Formation level, which were available to all Sect members.

The 2nd floor contained in-depth knowledge of the history, geography, flora and fauna of the surrounding area, as well as books of sword techniques of the Energy Core Saturation level. Access to which was available to Adepts, Elders, and respected persons of the Sect, that is, everyone except the students of the Sect.

On the 3rd floor, there were precious documents, mysterious and powerful martial techniques of the Energy Core Saturation level, which were only accessible to the Supreme Elders and the Sect Head.

"The second floor? How did you get up there?" Trevor's eyebrows rose up, his eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open, reflecting his surprise at Mac's revelation.

With a reserved look, Mac looked at Trevor and reminded him, "Have you forgotten who my grandfather is?"

Trevor's face flashed with a hunch. "Ohhh!" he exclaimed, and he had an epiphany.

"Have you been to the third floor yet?", Trevor continued to ask.

His thirst for knowledge was evident, realising that there was a wealth of knowledge hidden in the depths of the Library.

"I did go up to the 3rd floor. But it's not so easy there. In short, I just sat there humbly. I read only what I was allowed to read. I saw what I could see," Mac admitted. His face twisted in displeasure.

"And yet you were there, unlike the other disciples of the Sect," Trevor said with a touch of envy, his smile turning melancholy.

After walking almost all the way, the buildings of the Sect began to appear on the sides. In some places, other Sect disciples could be seen walking tiredly after a day of hard training.

Mac broke the silence. "Although I have explored every step of the Library's 1st and 2nd floors, there are still certain places I am not allowed to enter, such as the Sect's Vault," he said with a tinge of sadness.

But the next moment he added.

"But that's okay. I'll find a way," Mac assured him confidently, a spark of hope shining in his eyes.