I named her Noodles. The snake, I mean. It was cute. Slithering about my arm and peeking through my sleeve. I moved my attention away from all that and focused on Xinran instead. She hadn’t talked since we landed in the capital, and I hadn’t either.
“We shall meet later, savior,” Xinran said, bowing.
“Sure, why not,” I smiled, and she parted her lips. Hm? What could it be? However, she didn’t say anything and shook her head.
“I will be at your service if you ever need my help, savior.” She smiled.
I, of course, nodded.
For some reason, I couldn't believe it. She didn’t say anything. Damn shame. I shook my head as we went our separate ways. Noodles slithered along my arm and where I would’ve normally freaked out a bit, I’d gotten used to her now and knew she wouldn’t bite me.
Draped in simple clothes instead of luxurious garments had been easy enough, I blended into the crowd effortlessly. This small effort had done me a favor. No one bothered me as I strolled along the bustling streets toward my destination, the Archives. Although the grandeur of the cityscape was a familiar sight—from Ryujin’s memories, at least—experiencing it firsthand was an entirely different experience. Never had I ever seen it myself, after all.
Coiling around the Crimson Misty Peak, the capital was bustling. Skyscrapers stretched toward the heavens, their foundations defying gravity. Notably, the pinnacle where I had chosen my Disciples—Li Renji, and Wang Kai—could be seen near the heavens, piercing through the clouds. The Capital, for the most part, was quite… modern. I still had no clue why the demonic stuff hadn’t been demonic so far. I sighed and shook my head. This all did nothing but make me more curious. Content with all I’d seen, I stepped inside the Archives.
The scent of old parchment and the faint aroma of incense tickled my nose the moment I entered. This place was… grand. I walked farther. Well-lit lanterns with some sort of crystals inside hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, soft glow that illuminated the rows upon rows of shelves and scrolls that stretched far into the distance.
Scrolls of various sizes were neatly arranged on the shelves that stretched far into the ceiling. Some scrolls were bound in simple thread, while others were adorned with intricate designs and symbols. Scholars and Cultivators alike had their heads hung in the scrolls in front of them. Despite all these people, there was nothing but silence.
“Elder Wu.”
A voice whispered creepily close to the back of my neck, and I froze, my chest tightening. What? How did I get caught so quickly?
I turned around with nothing but utter composure framing my visage. A man—no, an old man floated above the ground, his body strangely half-incorporeal. It almost seemed like ectoplasmic. I ignored that as he ducked and flew right past me, and then a circle around me later, stood afloat, lips pursed, and an eyebrow raised. “What brings you here?”
How did my cover get blown so easily? I wondered. I was no longer a cultivator, and this old dude is. That was the reason. Maybe. I shook that thought out of my head and looked straight into the old man’s eyes while searching through Ryujin’s memories for anything relating to this old man.
“I’m here to look for some information,” I said just as it clicked in my mind. Ah. The Archivist. Shit. This might be bad if I revealed too much… I didn’t find anything in Ryujin’s memories that suggested this guy to be his enemy in the slightest, though. He was mostly chill.
“Ho?” he raised an eyebrow. “I see, I see. I mustn’t bother then, yes, yes. Go ahead, Elder Wu. This one shall keep your identity a secret as that seems to be your intention.”
I nodded in appreciation and went ahead into one of the sides. The shelves were huge and there was so… much to look through. This is going to take a while.
I picked up a few books and scrolls and sat on a table like a normal human being instead of littering everywhere on the ground. Not only that, spreading all the books and scrolls all over and making it difficult for the workers. I grabbed whatever was the nearest on the table. A leather-bound book. My fingertips grazed the cool cover and slightly rough texture. The years had left their mark, it seemed. Faded lines and softened edges. My eyes fixated on the tassel, a simple adornment that dangled from the side.
A quick flick of my finger caught the tassel, and it responded with a gentle jingle. It felt well-worn, its threads slightly frayed but still holding together. I tugged it and the book yielded, a muffled thud and the book opened.
The page inside was tinged with yellow, soft, and slightly crinkled beneath my touch. A painting of a wall adorned with beautiful murals depicted a scene from history. A legendary battle, perhaps. Figures of great importance that now no one remembered or bothered to remember aside from a few people. A particular mural caught my eye, depicting a figure holding a sword aloft as he stood against a swirling vortex of darkness. The founder. I recognized him that very instant. Master had talked lots about him, I still remember.
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I sighed. That wasn’t me. No. That was Ryujin.
I sighed and inhaled that familiar scent of old paper, the kind that carries with it memories of antique shops and forgotten attics.
Running my fingers along the lines of text, I felt my mind travel back in time. When my Master—the Sect Leader who was now dead—talked to me about different things. It was a simple gesture of his idol perhaps, but it held a certain importance to me—to Ryujin. A man with no family, and someone who was willing to share stories and the like.
I licked my lips and shook my head. A bitter taste remained. I knew not why. I was not Ryujin. I felt no pain or sorrow from the Sect Leader’s death. Ryujin would have, surely, and that is precisely why I am not him.
I shook my head. No time for all that, I was here for a reason, and I needed to get done with it. I’d wasted enough time as is. I delved into the scrolls and books, putting everything at the back of my mind.
***
Amidst the silence of the Archives late at night, I was well into my search, driven by a purpose that held both urgency and weight. My Disciples needed to be strong. Fast.
Scrolls and books were scattered on the table. Yet, despite my efforts, there was no mention of the information I sought—refining the Eclipse Heart to the Primordial Purity.
Hours had turned into the passage of time as I’d read and cross-referenced information, my frustration growing with each fruitless attempt. I had hoped to uncover anything that might hint at what I sought. But it had been a disappointing endeavor.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples as exhaustion and disappointment settled in. I’d kept an eye out for any cure for my Shattered Eclipse Heart as well, of course. Noodles, who had been coiled around my arm, stretched and uncoiled herself. She slithered onto the table, her head lifting to peer at me with a curious gaze.
She tilted her head.
“It's alright, Noodles,” I muttered, giving her a weary smile. I brought my hand up and scratched her head and she closed her tight, content. Quite strange, really. This was a snake—a goddamn snake.
I chuckled dryly.
Just as my chuckle echoed in the stillness, a voice chimed in from behind me, a voice that was polite. “The pursuit of knowledge, quite the enigma, isn’t it?”
I turned to find a man standing there, dressed in scholarly robes that bore intricate patterns of red threads. His eyes held a playful glint that hid behind them something that I couldn’t quite put my grasp on, and his lips curled into an amused smile as he studied me.
“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” I said cautiously, my hand inching towards Noodles to swoop her into my sleeve, just in case.
“Indeed, we haven’t,” he replied, his tone light, and I used [Identify]. “Apologies for my abrupt intrusion. I couldn’t help but notice your search and your… growing frustration.”
I eyed him warily, “And who might you be?”
His smile widened. “You may call me Jiang Feng. A humble scholar with a passion for unraveling the threads of forgotten lore of these Demonic Lands. Well, the whole world, actually, but we can take that out of the equation for now given that I’ve still yet to do that for the Demonic Lands and, well—”
The man started blabbering and then it turned into murmurs. I stared at him blankly while my eyes wandered about in search of the window that should have popped up instantly after using [Identify] yet hadn’t.
Shit, not again. Why the fuck can’t [Identify] actually identify when I need it to? I held back a curse and got even more alert. This fucker had to be stronger than me. A scholar my ass.
However, I nodded instead of showing any hostility. For all I knew, he was just some random dude, albeit a strong one.
“And then—” he seemed to realize that he’d blabbered on for some time. “Ah! Apologies!” he bowed, shaking his head. “I got lost.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Directness, I see. A trait I appreciate,” Jiang Feng mused as his smile returned. He stepped closer and gestured at the scattered books and scrolls on the table. “I’ve been observing your efforts, and it’s clear you’re searching for something elusive, something that the Archives seem to be withholding, or something that is well hidden.”
I frowned, “And what makes you think you can help me?”
Jiang Feng chuckled softly, reaching out to pick up one of the scrolls. His fingers danced along the aged paper as if he were caressing memories. “You see, I’ve spent many years cultivating relationships with the Archives’ guardians—both corporeal and not-so-corporeal. And in return for my... diplomatic skills, they occasionally grant me access to certain forbidden knowledge.”
“Forbidden knowledge?” I repeated, intrigued despite myself. “Such as?”
Jiang Feng’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “The very knowledge you seek, my friend. The art of refining the Eclipse Heart to the Primordial Purity.”
I froze. However, despite my questions and frustrations, I recomposed myself and schooled my expression as I leveled him a stare. “What do you want in return?” I asked. Not to mention, how the fuck did he know what I was searching for? What was happening?
Jiang Feng’s expression turned serious, his gaze meeting mine before he burst out laughing. “You actually fell for it!” he crackled in laughter. My confusion vanished as his body morphed back to that of the Archivist.
What the actual fuck—
“Wu boy, this one is quite ancient and can see right through you.” The old man said, smiling.