When Jin reached the area described by the old man, the first thing he did was scan the titles along the shelves.
To his surprise, everything was neatly arranged. In a secluded corner stood a small bookcase, holding a modest number of books—old tomes with worn covers and scrolls sealed with faded ink.
The moment he read the covers, Jin felt his heart race.
Titles such as The Sacred Eight Continents, Myths of the Ancient World, The History of the Wandering Immortal, The Great Holy-Demonic War, and many others filled the shelves.
"Damn… just reading the titles is enough to make my blood boil as a veteran reader," he murmured with a fleeting grin. "But time's short. Essentials first."
Suppressing his excitement, he began searching methodically.
One book on geography, another on history to understand the current era… and maybe one for general knowledge.
As he examined the shelves, his expression occasionally twisted.
"Not this one… not that either… What the hell is this title?"
He frowned at a dust-covered book.
A Hundred Ways to Send Your Dual Partner to Heaven.
Jin fell silent for a few seconds.
"…How the hell did something like this end up here?"
He sighed and put it back on the shelf.
After nearly an hour of filtering through the piles, he ended up with four books in hand: Myths of the Ancient World, The Sacred Eight Continents, History of the LingLong Continent… and one more he couldn't resist.
Its title shimmered faintly under the spiritual light of the hall—The Great Holy-Demonic War.
He wasn't sure if it was history, myth, or pure fantasy, but with a name like that… how could he ignore it?
With his choices made, Jin walked toward the counter.
Martial techniques would have to wait. It wasn't that he didn't want to look at them—but making copies required merit points.
And in that regard, he was as poor as a beggar.
When he reached the counter where the old man had been, he found it empty.
Puzzled, he approached a nearby disciple.
"Excuse me, senior brother," he asked politely, "do you know where the elder in charge of the hall's record copies is?"
The young man gave him a confused look.
"You mean Protector Su Ming? If so, he doesn't handle that. The Grand Elder only guards this place—he doesn't do the copying."
He paused, then added in a stern tone,
"And next time, refer to him as Protector or Grand Elder."
With that, he left.
Jin stood there, blank-faced, as if a giant question mark hovered over his head.
"What the hell just happened…?" he muttered, scratching his neck.
Soon after, he noticed another counter in the center of the hall, where several disciples were requesting copies as usual.
"Ah… I see. Not too hard to guess, I suppose," he sighed.
He approached the clerk—a woman who looked no older than twenty-five. When she saw him, her eyes widened slightly. Though still youthful, the boy carried a presence that hinted at a bright jade yet to be polished.
Regaining her composure, she glanced at the books and smiled faintly.
"Since they're all common books, it'll be five merit points each. Twenty in total."
Jin's face immediately froze.
He barely had ninety-two points left… now only seventy-two.
And he didn't even know how to earn more.
Suppressing his misery with a dry cough, he extended his token.
"Here you go, senior sister."
She chuckled at his theatrics and brushed her finger over the token; it glowed faintly before she handed it back.
"Here you are. And remember—" she said, her tone turning a bit more serious, "even if they're just history books, they can't leave the sect. Some knowledge isn't meant for mortals."
Jin nodded respectfully, gathered his things, and left.
As he walked toward the exit, he couldn't help but think again about the old man.
"No point wasting my thoughts on that…" he murmured, letting the matter go.
The walk back was uneventful.
By pure chance, he overheard a few disciples discussing the color of their robes—apparently, each color represented a different sect peak:
red for the Celestial Cauldron Peak, silver for the Serene Soul Peak, green for the Jade Body Peak, blue for the Eternal Steel Peak, and gray—along with equally grim expressions—for the Shadow Puppet Peak.
"Strange… I haven't seen anyone from the Sword or Alchemy Peaks," he thought as he walked on.
Despite his calm appearance, a faint spark burned inside him.
At last, he had something to help him understand this world.
When the sun began to set, Jin reached his small residence.
He looked around and sighed; it wasn't much, but it would be his refuge for who knew how long.
He lit an oil lamp, opened the windows, and laid the books on the table beside the jade fragment.
"Let's see… the cultivation technique will be last," he decided, setting the jade aside.
After a brief hesitation, he picked up a thin book.
The title, written in golden letters, read: The Sacred Eight Continents.
"Guess I'll start with this one."
He opened it carefully, brushing his fingertips over the letters of the prologue.
"In the ancient ages, eight continents rose from the primordial sea. Each inherited a different aspect of the Dao, and together they formed the balance of the world."
Jin smirked faintly.
"Always sounds so grand. I guess every ancient book starts like that."
The next page revealed a map—a vast central continent surrounded by seven smaller ones.
"At the center lies the Celestial Continent, Zhong. There, the most powerful sects, the oldest empires, and clans that defied the erosion of time reside. Their influence reaches even the outer seas."
"So that's where the real powerhouses live, huh? Maybe one day…" he muttered.
He kept reading.
"To the east lies the LingLong Continent—a land of spirituality and order, where the blood of ancient dragons still flows beneath the mountains. It is said those dragons never vanished but slumber, guarding the spiritual veins of the land."
Jin raised an eyebrow.
"Dragons, huh? Now that's interesting."
"The people of LingLong are known for their natural affinity with pure energy, mirroring the flow of the dragons that breathe beneath their soil."
"So that's our homeland… not bad," he murmured.
"In the north lies Beihai, a frozen land where clans hunt beasts born of frost.
To the south, Nanluo—a dense jungle ruled by sects that cultivate both body and soul.
To the west stands Xiyang, an endless desert where the heavenly fire never fades.
Beyond the Purple Sea lies Dongxu, land of storms and alchemists.
The sixth, Yaoguang, is a continent of mirages and illusions, where nothing is ever as it seems.
And the seventh, Moyuan—the Demonic Continent—was sealed one hundred thousand years ago after the Great War. Its skies still bleed."
Jin fell silent for a long while, staring at the map.
"When the eight align once more, the balance shall break, and the heavens shall choose a new guardian."
"A new guardian… sure," he muttered with a faint smile.
He closed the book gently and leaned back in his chair, letting the soft glow of the lamp paint his thoughtful face.
The map remained vivid in his mind—eight continents, eight possible destinies.
And among them, in the calmest of all… his own.
"Well," he finally murmured,
"at least now I know where I stand."