Xing Yi refused to believe that there wasn’t a way he could find around his lack of spiritual roots, lack of teacher and mediocre talent for even external cultivation. With free access to a library that is apparently four thousand years at his fingertips, Xing Yi decided to take advantage of this.

Xing Yi did his best to stay optimistic even with these depressing musings wandering around inside his head. But sometimes it was demotivating, and he found it hard to get himself to keep pushing and to not give up just yet. The most important thing being that he didn’t give up.

Xing Yi searched the library from top to bottom-well within the areas that he had access to. He had to be an inner disciple or core disciple to gain access to the next layers of the library that laid deeper within. These areas were marked by a large, intimidating archway that an invisible blue barrier that stopped all who didn’t have the jade seal of an inner court or core disciple.

Xing Yi didn’t walk up to the archway because he knew that the machinations of immortal inventions and formations were not something to be messed with. Still, even several steps away from the barrier where he could see the qi barrier flickering in the air, he felt a slight push against his body.

Xing Yi couldn’t possibly read every single book in the library. That would take him the rest of his life to do so and likely even more. It took him almost five minutes to walk from one end to the other. That’s how big the place was. One thing he was very envious of was the librarian’s ability to instantly recall the location of any book and in which book you could find certain information.

Whenever a disciple of the sect came to the library to ask for where they could find a book on a certain topic or information, Senior Bai would seemingly be able to know exactly what they were talking about and a few seconds later, a book with just what they were looking for would come flying around the corner.

It was simply magical.

However, Xing Yi couldn’t ask the librarian for anything at all since he was a mortal and simply didn’t like him at all. A week after he stopped meditating and had been searching for a way to acquire spiritual roots, he had somehow managed to muster up the courage to ask Senior Bai to help him locate the location of the book.

In response, the librarian told him to scram and that he was trying to read. Xing Yi didn’t see him reading anything but didn’t ask him because that would only make things worse. When he was walking away, Senior Bai aggressively flicked him with his spiritual sense, causing Xing Yi to shudder horrifically and get the message that he was trying to convey. He wasn’t going to get his help and should leave him alone.

Xing Yi began to read through a variety of books on many topics, from history, medicine, combat, cultivation wisdom and common techniques, legendary figures from a long gone past, talismans, pills, elemental techniques, demon beasts, spirit beasts. He perused over anything that could give him any sort of insight into what he could capably do with his current strength and cultivation.

Something else other than mindlessly training and cultivating, simply hoping for the best. That would not do and would only lead to him dying with having accomplished nothing.

From shelf to shelf, his figure graced each and every one of them.

The only time he returned home was to eat. He brought with him a leather bottle to drink out of in his small breaks.

Xing Yi’s focus had become incredible. Nothing shook him out of focus and his will to find what he was looking for was adamant. His eyes were focused on the objective. This was not a time to satisfy his curiosity, but a time to learn. In this way, he had matured. Unknowingly, Xing Yi’s reading and writing abilities had already reached that of a common scholar. As he read, he took many notes, taking what scrolls and notebooks Ya Jing’s parents had to offer.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Xing Yi read and greedily absorbed the knowledge contained within the ancient library of an immortal sect. Any mortal scholar that learned of this opportunity would die of envy. Books created by immortal masters that were hundreds of years of age had profound calligraphy skills and even more mystical and tongue-twisting writing.

Xing Yi gazed upon the black ink that was written by these masters for many hours, contemplating the meaning of their words and the many philosophies and truths hidden within. Yin and yang, chaos, life, death, love, tragedy, the curse that is the chase of immortality, and all the pain and suffering that occurred all throughout life.

The writing of these immortal masters elicited deep emotions from him. Their writing wasn’t something to be read easily. It was achingly slow to process through his brain as their use of characters and grammar confused him to no end.

Each author had a different style that challenged him in different ways. He was at first, akin to someone who had been thrown into cold water without their knowing. But as days turned into weeks, the cycle of the sun and moon progressed, and Xing Yi’s attainment of knowledge and experience increased, he grew used to reading these complex pieces of literature.

Xing Yi treated each and every book with the utmost respect, as even the slightest rip or tear of a page would incite the ire of a million slaps upon his poor body by the librarian. A week ago, immediately upon ripping a book he had been reading, the librarian furiously slapped him with his spiritual sense, causing him to fall to the ground in immeasurable pain. Like his body was being stabbed with countless needles.

It only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like he had been tortured for several long minutes. A moment later he had heard Senior Bai’s voice float over him saying, "Foolish boy. Do it again and I will kick you out for good."

Xing Yi heeded these words with much caution and constantly stayed aware of how he was treating the book, especially when he was turning the page. He did that slowly and mastered the technique to turn the page without any risk whatsoever of ripping it.

And so, five long, quiet months passed in this manner.

He lived and breathed literature, his sight consumed by words and his thoughts by that of the meaning and wisdom of immortal masters from long ago.

And just a few weeks ago, Xing Yi had turned thirteen, to which he had been surprised by Ya Jing’s family with an entire feast consisting of all his favourite foods and one entire low-grade spirit stone. Spirit stones were essentially the currency of internal cultivators, blue, glowing rocks that were mined within deposits that existed far beneath the earth in random location. It had been pooled together by the entirety of Ya Jing’s family, with the gift being the father’s idea.

They had been the only people he talked to in the sect other than Li Yuwan his teacher. They took care of him, fed him and let him sleep under their roof all free of charge. For that, he was grateful and showed deep care and consideration for the family in return.

It was after this block of time that after much careful consideration, perusing of his notes and weighing of the advantages and disadvantages, Xing Yi decided to pursue the path of pill refinement.

When he finally came to this conclusion, even he himself was shocked and a bit frightened of the reality of what he would have to do to break out of the hole he had found himself in.

Pill refining was so immensely difficult that it would only be after a deep and long conversation that someone new to the craft would understand what they might be getting themselves into. It was not the faint of hearted and was merciless to all it’s practitioners. The number of resources that would have to be poured into the average cultivator in order to become a master pill refiner was so ludicrous that it would be enough to bankrupt an entire sect.

Pill refining was a rich man’s game. But it was also only for geniuses. Well not geniuses per say, it would be better to describe it as something only reserved for the utmost prodigies that appeared once in a century.

It was on the same level of external cultivation in terms of difficulty.

To find someone who had spiritual roots was difficult but not impossible. But to find someone who had enough talent to succeed in pill refinement without bankrupting the person who was funding them was next to impossible.

But the thing was that you didn’t need to be an internal cultivator to refine pills. Usually, an internal cultivator would refine pills by manipulating the flow of energy and the heat of the fire with their qi. The fire, unless it was to refine a first-grade pill, was spiritual and if even the slightest drifting spark touched his skin, Xing Yi would burn to death.

But Xing Yi didn’t have to refine anything above first grade pills. And he could refine pills through physical means. He didn’t have to refine them using tangible strings and waves of spiritual qi. He could do so with just a simple wooden spatula and a bellow to control the intensity of the fire.

But where was he going to get all the money to fuel his practice?

Well, he had a plan in mind. A very good one at that.

One that the sect wouldn’t be very pleased with if they happened to find out.