He hadn't dreamed.
And yet, when Ji-Hoon woke up, he wasn't in the forest.
He was no longer in his body.
---
The ground beneath his feet was neither earth nor stone.
It was crystallized memory.
Dark, translucent tiles—formed from frozen thoughts—stretched beneath a light that came from nowhere. In the distance stood a massive structure, without walls, whose entrance seemed to draw every thought toward it.
Each step echoed in absolute silence.
Ji-Hoon was naked, but not in his physical body.
It was him, reduced to essence. A silhouette made of intellect, memory, and will.
He walked.
---
The palace doors opened on their own.
And before him lay the Library of the Soul.
An infinite space. Endless shelves.
Staircases rising to nowhere. Books floating in midair, spinning slowly. Scrolls suspended on golden threads. Words, fragments of images, inaudible whispers.
Ji-Hoon felt his breath catch.
— It's… alive.
He stepped forward.
One shelf lit up as he passed. Three books rested upon it.
Each emitted a different light: white, green, blue.
He reached for the first.
Book 1 — "Murim Physiology: Essential Ki Pathways"
(Locked. Access required: physical alignment + base energy system.)
— Understanding the martial body. Access denied.
He sighed.
The book closed gently, as if not to offend him.
The second book.
Book 2 — "Internal Herbology: Vol. I"
(Accessible.)
— Root systems, interactions with meridians, activated through slow decoction.
The book opened. Pages turned.
And in his mind, the knowledge poured in.
Not as text.
Not as memory.
But like a muscle he had always possessed.
He knew—
How to crush the mirror-blood root.
How to spot a tainted lunar herb.
How to balance Ki in a decoction with three drops of black vinegar.
He staggered.
— It's too fast…
But the library steadied him.
Third book.
Book 3 — "Memoirs of a Sectless Healer"
(Accessible.)
— Tales of failure, wandering, field medicine. A style without style. A path without path.
This book… was different.
It didn't glow. It bled.
Ji-Hoon laid his fingers upon it.
And the healer's voice echoed in his head—
Old. Ironic. Bitter.
"You want to heal? Start by dirtying your hands. Clean knowledge never saved a dying man."
Ji-Hoon stepped back. The book closed.
But something within him had awakened.
---
In a corner of the hall, he noticed a spiral staircase.
Each step bore an unknown rune.
At the top... a closed door. Wooden. Simple. Almost plain.
He climbed the stairs slowly.
With every step, a memory of his past surfaced:
The first book he ever stole.
The first time he healed an injured pigeon.
His mother's fever. Her trembling hand in the hospital.
The traditional medicine forums. The sleepless nights. The obsessions.
He reached the door.
No lock.
But an inscription was carved upon it:
"Intellect becomes blade. Lies become identity."
He placed his hand on the wood.
The door didn't open.
But something sealed within his soul.
A future permission.
A promise.
A path.
---
He descended.
And in the main chamber, he finally saw the core.
A suspended globe. Transparent. It pulsed like a heart.
At its center, a mosaic was slowly taking shape.
Three points.
Connected by a broken line.
Embryonic theory forming. Not yet stable.
Ji-Hoon understood.
He could create theories here.
Bridges between bodies of knowledge.
Not just store—
But invent. Synthesize. Circumvent.
He looked up at the infinite shelves.
— I'm not a cultivator. I'm an architect of the real.
---
The palace slowly faded.
He opened his eyes.
The forest. Morning. Cold.
But now, he was no longer alone.
The library was within him.
And the path of the wandering healer... had begun.
---
To be continued...