Perspective: Zhuge Su Yeon
The truth was that it would be incorrect to say the Bai Clan knew Zhuge Island better than everyone else simply because they had lived here longer.That was a convenient — and completely false — assumption.
In my opinion, the title of true master of the island could belong to only one person:my imperial father.
And the living proof of that stood right before me.
Even now, after so many years, I still didn't know where he came from.No one did.Not even Su Lan, who had always been obsessed with information.He simply appeared one day — a foreigner who somehow understood this land better than any native ever could.
How could a man who wasn't born here comprehend the island's essence, its secrets, its spiritual veins, its ruins, and its dangers with such precision?
I never found the answer.But I learned enough to understand one simple truth:like me, my father was a master of secrets.
And the greatest of those secrets rested right beneath my feet.
After descending a spiral staircase for more than a hundred meters, the air began to change.The island's natural cold gave way to something denser, heavier, quieter — a kind of stillness that didn't belong to the surface world.Each step carried me deeper toward what my father used to call "The Heart of Zhuge Island."
And finally, I arrived.
The corridor opened into a vast underground hall illuminated by spiritual crystals embedded in the walls, casting a soft golden glow.The sound of the wind from above had completely vanished — replaced by the distant echo of my own footsteps.
Before me stood a colossal library.
A vertical labyrinth of dark wood and ancient stone, built in nine levels above the ground floor.The shelves curved in concentric circles, connected by balconies and spiral staircases that coiled like bronze dragons between the levels.
Each floor carried its own tone of light — the higher the level, the brighter the spiritual glow emanating from the books.On the ground floor, the shelves were thick oak, filled with scrolls and manuscripts: cultivation treatises, formation theories, and historical records.
But as the gaze ascended, the atmosphere changed.The volumes on the upper levels emanated a presence of their own — books that seemed to breathe, scrolls sealed by runes, and even floating jade crystals that hovered lightly among the shelves, as though the very knowledge within them repelled mortal touch.
Each level represented a higher degree of mastery:martial, spiritual, corporeal, mental…Some, I knew, came from realms far beyond the north.Others, perhaps, shouldn't exist in this world at all.
But the library didn't end there.
At its center, a circular abyss opened downward — a deep well surrounded by carved wooden railings.Down below, in the darkness, a faint light pulsed at regular intervals, like a beating heart.That was where the lower library lay — the collection my father had never allowed me to explore fully.He used to call it "The Echo of the Forgotten World."
Just the name was enough to make me understand there were things even he feared to read.
I looked around.The silence was absolute, broken only by the faint sound of pages turning — though I was completely alone.The air was thick with the energy of thousands of techniques, as if each of them breathed — alive, aware of its own importance.
But it wasn't the library that had brought me here this time.There was something else — something that lay just ahead of the main entrance.
On the floor before me, five paths branched outward, arranged in the shape of a star.Each led to a distinct, massive double door — each made of entirely different materials and energies.
I began by observing the central one.
It was deep purple, the color of twilight, adorned with golden formations carved across its surface.Ancient, intricate symbols pulsed faintly — each golden line seemed to breathe, as if the door itself held a dormant consciousness.Its presence demanded respect and caution, like a portal that stared back at whoever dared to gaze into it.
To the right were two other doors.The first, blue, etched with silver patterns of frost and light, emanated a cold yet pure aura — the kind of energy that destroyed with elegance.The second, black, bore designs of emerald green, forming sinuous patterns that resembled poisonous vines.The faint scent it released reminded me of toxic herbs mixed with corroded metal — the kind of danger that kills quietly.
To the left, two more doors completed the circle.The nearer one was golden, adorned with carvings of women dancing — beautiful, serene faces chiseled with divine precision.The gold seemed alive under the spiritual light, and for a moment, I could swear the figures moved slightly — as if breathing.
Finally, the last door — red.Carved with symbols of fire and beasts, its surface seemed to vibrate, as if invisible flames burned beneath the wood.The creatures engraved upon it — tigers, serpents, birds — appeared trapped within the material's layers.It exuded a fierce, almost primal energy that pulsed in rhythm with my own heartbeat.
I stood still for a few seconds, surrounded by those five doors.Each one exhaled a distinct presence — power, mystery, temptation, destruction, desire.And somehow, they all belonged to the same secret.
My father always said that "the heart of the island beats in five rhythms."
My footsteps echoed softly over the polished stone as I approached the blue door — the only one among the five whose origin I truly knew.
The air around it was cold — but not the natural chill of Zhuge Island.It was a pure, spiritual cold, the kind that seemed to pierce flesh and touch the soul directly.The silver runes etched into its surface glowed at steady intervals, like the pulse of a heart made of ice.
I reached out.The texture of the wood was smooth, yet strangely alive — it seemed to react to my touch.For a brief instant, I felt something watching me from the other side — a silent, ancient, and yet familiar consciousness.
Then I turned the silver handles.A deep sound reverberated through the underground chamber.
The surrounding light flickered, and a thin mist of white vapor began to seep from the cracks in the door, swirling like smoke beneath the golden glow of the torches.
And when the two halves finally opened, the cold air engulfed me completely —and the chamber beyond revealed itself before my eyes.