The library was silent.As if time itself refused to move within its walls.Dust hung in the air like a soft mist,and every step Li Yuan took stirred sleeping memories from their slumber.
Shelf by shelf,book by book,he passed themmany he had read in childhood.
But something made him stopin the very back corner.
A low shelf, nearly hidden behind a support beam.There, one book lay askew.The only one covered by a piece of worn cloth.
Li Yuan reached out.His fingers brushed over thick dust,then gently peeled back the tattered fabric.
Beneath it lay a thin book,its cover made of aged, cracked wood.No title.No carvings.No markings.
The book felt… silent.Quieter than all the others.
"Why have I never seen this before?"
He sat down.The wind coming through the broken window seemed to pause.
When he opened the first page,handwritten text appeared—not in the common Qin script.The letters flowed, curved,as if written by water.
The ink had faded,but it could still be read.
"I did not write this to be found.But if you are reading this,then perhaps our paths are alike.I am not a cultivator.I never sought power.I only… listened."
Li Yuan fell silent.
His eyes lingered on the letters,which felt more like whispers than writing.
He turned to the second page.
"Once, I followed the world.I trained.I wanted to become strong.But every time I tried,something inside me resisted.Not because I was weak—but because I felt…I was stealing from myself."
Li Yuan closed his eyes.Those words touched something deep within.
"Eventually, I sat.Beneath an old tree.Alone.And there, for the first time, I heardNot the wind.Not the leaves.But a voice within meA voice that did not speak with words."
Page after page turned.No name.No technique.No method.Just a story.Filled with silence.Filled with awareness.
Someone who had once lived…and walked an invisible path.
"I do not know if I reached anything.But I know this:I was no longer lost.Because I did not walk to arrive.I walked… to understand."
Li Yuan turned to the final page.
There, only a single sentence was written.The handwriting was shaky,as if written with trembling hands.
"If you are reading this,then do not follow my path.Your own path… is enough."
Li Yuan remained still.His gaze drifted to the window.
The sky had turned red,and twilight light slowly crept into the library,making the dust shimmer like floating stars.
He closed the book.
Silence.
"This person didn't want to be followed.But they showed me that understanding doesn't come from finding direction—it comes from listening to your own steps."
Li Yuan touched his chest.He felt peace.And warmth.Something inside him was flowing gently.
A vibration…like a distant echo…like a voice…that didn't use sound.
"Is this…the next realm?"
He stood.
The sun was nearly set.Its light wrapped the roomlike the day's final embrace.
"This book… was never read."
"But now,it has fulfilled its purpose."
He slid the book back into its place.Not taken.Not carried away.Left behind—for whoever may comewalking not in search of power,but in search of understanding.
The morning sky made no sound.Like a breath not yet released.
Li Yuan sat on a flat stone behind the house.The grass grew wild; the dew had not yet dried.He gazed at the ground, then lifted his head.
"No," he whispered.
"I will not rush."
In the distance, a rooster called.Softlyas if to remind him that the day had only just begun.
For fifty years within the inner world, he had lived like mist.But in the real world… only five days had passed.
To him, time was no longer pursuitbut space to understand.
"I wish to understand," he said again."A single falling leaf… takes a whole season to descend."
He stood.His steps were light.The earth did not complain beneath his feet.
He walked slowlytoward the riverbank,toward the trees,toward himself.
"Slowly…""Roots do not grow in haste."
The wind passed by,touching his calm face.
In his mind, the voices of powerful men echoed:about ultimate martial arts,about strength that shakes the earth,about battles and victories.
Yet all he sawwas a shadow of himself sittingeyes closed,listening to the voice of the world.
"I still have much time.""But understanding… is not measured by how long."
A small bird landed on a branch.Li Yuan watched it.The bird turned its head. Then flew away.
He followed it with his eyesuntil it vanished into the sky.
He smiled.
"So am I.""Flying is not for speed…""…but to know the direction of the wind."
He returned to the house.His steps still unhurried.
Before him, the world lay open.Yet he chose a narrower spacea place where silence could speak.
"Slow," he said."But not still.""I walk. But inward."