It took several more days.
Luck played a role—but only because I knew how to use it.
The Si Wong Desert didn't reveal the library easily. The sands shifted constantly, burying signs as quickly as they appeared. I walked patterns, doubled back, waited through sandstorms, and observed the desert rather than fighting it.
Eventually, skill tipped the balance.
A single stone spire rose unnaturally from the dunes—too symmetrical, too deliberate. The sand around it moved differently, as though reluctant to cover it completely.
I stopped.
"…That's it."
I approached cautiously.
The moment my foot crossed an invisible boundary, the ground trembled. The sand roared as something vast stirred beneath the desert. Stone rose where none had existed moments before, towering upward as the Library of Wan Shi Tong emerged from its burial.
The tower locked into place with a thunderous finality.
I didn't hesitate.
I stepped forward—and jumped.
The world dropped away as I descended through the opening, landing lightly inside the library's vast interior.
Silence.
Then—
Wings.
A powerful gust of air slammed into me as something enormous landed directly in front of me. Feathers brushed stone. Golden eyes locked onto mine, ancient and piercing.
Wan Shi Tong.
"He who knows ten thousand things."
"I do not like humans," he said immediately, voice sharp with disdain. "You steal knowledge and use it for war. For destruction. You are not welcome here."
I listened patiently.
He went on, as expected—about betrayal, about the Fire Nation, about the foolishness of mortals and their endless hunger for power.
When he finally paused, I spoke.
"I didn't come to steal."
That earned a narrowed gaze.
"I came to trade."
I reached into my pack and withdrew a book—thick, carefully bound, written in my own hand. Its pages were filled with diagrams, annotations, and structured knowledge far beyond anything this world possessed.
"Modern medicine," I said calmly. "From another world."
Wan Shi Tong hesitated.
Just for a fraction of a second.
He took the book, flipping through it rapidly. His eyes widened imperceptibly as he absorbed the contents—sterilization techniques, anatomy mapped with precision, surgical practices refined over centuries, the understanding of disease as something measurable rather than mystical.
"This knowledge…" he murmured. "It is… advanced."
"It saves lives," I replied. "Without armies. Without conquest. Without bending."
That did it.
He closed the book carefully.
"You are… unusual," Wan Shi Tong admitted. "You did not ask for weapons. Or secrets of domination."
"I'm not interested in repeating history," I said. "I'm interested in understanding it."
The owl spirit studied me for a long moment.
Then he stepped aside.
"You may read," he said slowly. "But you will not remove anything. And you will not misuse what you learn."
I inclined my head slightly.
"Agreed."
Wan Shi Tong vanished into the upper levels of the library, leaving me alone among towering shelves that stretched endlessly in every direction.
Books.
Scrolls.
Tablets.
Knowledge spanning millennia.
I exhaled.
"…This," I murmured, "is going to be fun."
And I began to read.