The morning bell rang loudly across the Azure Cloud Sect.
Disciples gathered in the training courtyards, their voices echoing between the mountain halls. Wooden weapons struck against each other while instructors barked orders from the sidelines.
The sect was alive with activity.
But the Archive Hall remained quiet.
Inside, Lin Mo carefully arranged several old books that had been returned the previous day. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the floating dust that drifted lazily in the air.
To anyone watching, it looked like another peaceful morning.
Yet Lin Mo could clearly feel the subtle difference within his body.
The moment he stepped into the Body Tempering Realm, his senses had sharpened noticeably.
Even now, he could faintly hear the distant training outside the library.
The sound of footsteps.
The scraping of wooden weapons.
Even the wind brushing through the cedar trees.
Lin Mo placed another book back onto the shelf.
Then—
The wooden door suddenly swung open.
Two young men walked inside.
Both wore the grey robes of outer disciples, though their clothes were far less tidy than Lin Mo's.
One of them was tall with a sharp face and confident posture. The other had a thicker build and a bored expression.
They looked around the Archive Hall with clear disinterest.
"Ugh," the taller one muttered. "Why did the instructor send us here?"
The thicker disciple shrugged.
"He said the answer should be in one of these books."
The tall disciple scoffed.
"This place smells like dust."
Only then did they notice Lin Mo standing nearby.
"Oh," the tall disciple said casually. "You're the caretaker?"
Lin Mo nodded slightly.
"Yes."
The disciple waved his hand impatiently.
"We're looking for something about meridian injuries. The instructor mentioned some ancient medical texts."
Lin Mo thought for a moment.
Then he walked toward one of the deeper shelves.
"Follow me."
The two disciples exchanged a glance but followed anyway.
Lin Mo stopped in front of a tall shelf and pulled out a thick book bound in dark leather.
"This section contains medical records and treatment methods used by wandering cultivators."
He handed the book to them.
The thick disciple flipped it open lazily.
Pages rustled as he skimmed through them.
Then suddenly—
A torn page slipped loose and fell to the floor.
The tall disciple frowned.
"What's this?"
He bent down and picked it up.
The paper was old.
Very old.
Unlike the printed pages of the book, this one was covered with handwritten characters.
The thick disciple leaned over his shoulder.
"Looks like someone stuffed a note in here."
The tall disciple skimmed the writing briefly.
Then he snorted.
"Probably nonsense."
Without another thought, he crumpled the page slightly and tossed it back into the book.
"Let's go. I doubt we'll find anything useful here."
The thick disciple shrugged and slammed the book shut.
They placed it carelessly on the table and left the hall without another word.
The wooden door closed behind them.
Silence returned.
Lin Mo remained still for a moment.
Then he slowly walked to the table.
The old book lay open where the disciples had left it.
The loose page stuck halfway between its covers.
Lin Mo gently pulled the page free.
His eyes scanned the writing.
Almost immediately, his expression changed slightly.
The page contained notes about meridian reconstruction.
But the method described was… unusual.
Instead of forcing spiritual energy through damaged meridians, the technique described using slow circulating pulses to gradually reshape the pathways.
Lin Mo's eyes sharpened.
The idea was strangely similar to the principles described by the mysterious black book.
Observation.
Gentle circulation.
Understanding the path rather than forcing it.
Lin Mo continued reading carefully.
Near the bottom of the page, a final line caught his attention.
"When the twelve primary meridians become stable, hidden branches may appear."
Lin Mo froze.
Hidden branches.
The words felt strangely familiar.
His thoughts immediately turned to the glowing meridian diagram within the black book.
The First Path.
The Second Path.
Could the unknown author of this note have discovered something similar?
Lin Mo folded the page carefully.
Then he closed the damaged book and returned it to the shelf.
But he did not return the loose page.
Instead, he slipped it quietly into his sleeve.
The Archive Hall remained silent.
Outside, the training grounds echoed with the noise of disciples practicing their techniques.
Lin Mo returned to his desk and sat down calmly.
His mind remained steady.
But inside his chest, the faint warmth of the First Path stirred slightly.
Perhaps the quiet Archive Hall held far more secrets than anyone realized.