Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Formless Sword Art
Shen Yuan stared at the young man sitting on his new bed.
Novels.
The boy had brought three suitcases filled with novels.
’...’
He said nothing. What could he say? His perfect memory had just wasted precious mental space cataloguing story titles that would serve him no purpose whatsoever.
Shen Yuan simply nodded slowly and turned away, returning to his meditation posture. ’This senior brother begs you... Please don’t bother me anymore.’
The blissful smile on his face told everyone that he seemed to have found god and did not want to look for anything else.
Seeing him act this way, Chen Bo scratched the back of his head shyly before looking around, and somehow the other servants in the room also threw themselves back into their beds like they just remembered they had to sleep more.
...
By midday, Shen Yuan had made a decision.
He knew that he needed to gather new knowledge, techniques he could gain levels from, which would boost his cultivation.
Then his eyes drifted to a metal token in his inventory; it was a pass to get any sort of technique from the library.
’If they are giving me free books, why not make the best out of it?’ With a faint smirk on his face, Shen Yuan changed into the outfit of a senior servant. White robes with blue lines all over and a grey waistband.
Now he looked like every other servant inside this Manor but much more handsome.
As he walked out of the dormitory, Shen Yuan noticed many eyes following him, but he did not bother with them.
Shen Yuan made his way deeper into the sect. The outer sect sprawled across the mountainside like a living organism, constantly moving and breathing. His silver eyes registered everything he saw on his way.
’Since I am out, why not check out the whole outer sect.’
The first place he visited was training grounds.
There he saw many outer disciples fighting against each other. They looked like wild beasts gunning for the lives of their opponents.
Servants scurried between them like ants, fetching water, handing them towels, offering pills and elixirs.
An outer disciple shoved a servant to the ground without breaking eye contact with his opponent.
The servant didn’t complain. He simply picked himself up and continued serving.
Shen Yuan’s expression didn’t change, but something cold flickered behind his eyes. He had already begun cataloguing the hierarchies.
’I wonder how the face of this place would change by the time I am done with it.’ Even Shen Yuan himself had not realised that a cold, ruthless smile of a killer had appeared on his face.
The smile did not linger for longer than a second as he moved away.
The market district was more chaotic. Stalls lined the streets where outer disciples and servants alike bartered for supplies. Spirit herbs hung from strings.
Cultivation pills sat in glass containers, glowing faintly. Talismans and low-grade artifacts were piled haphazardly on tables.
Servants were treated like beasts of burden here too.
A merchant watched one servant walk past and immediately barked orders. "You! Fetch me that crate of Red Marrow Root! Move faster or I’ll report you to your supervisor!"
The servant scrambled without protest.
Shen Yuan looked around and realised that even a single item placed on the ground there would cost more than everything he had on himself.
He left the market behind.
The library appeared suddenly as he rounded a curve in the mountain path. It was a towering pagoda of pale stone that seemed to defy the natural architecture of the sect.
Nine levels rose upward like a staircase to heaven itself, each floor visible through grand arched windows.
The building was called the Pavilion of the Nine Hells, and even from a distance, Shen Yuan could sense the weight of accumulated knowledge within it.
’Nice building.’
He pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.
The first floor was vast. Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched out in all directions, organised in ways that seemed arbitrary at first glance but quickly revealed patterns to his analytical mind.
’If I imagine the shape in my mind and look down at it from above. It almost looks like a pentagon.’
The air reeked of old paper and something faintly floral.
An elderly man sat behind a desk near the entrance. His eyes were grey and distant, as if his mind had already returned to whatever book he’d been reading before Shen Yuan arrived. He didn’t look up.
"First time?" His voice was dry as autumn leaves.
"Yes."
"Rules are simple. Hand over the pass to me. Servants are permitted access to the first floor only. You have thirty minutes to select and remove one book. If you wish to remain longer, payment is required. Ten spirit stones per day." The old man’s eyes flickered toward him for barely a moment before returning to his tome. "Your time begins now."
Shen Yuan didn’t waste a moment on formalities. He placed the metal pass on the table before the old man, which he had already taken out of the inventory on his way here.
’Time to steal as many books as I can.’ Shen Yuan moved towards the shelf closest to him.
His perfect memory was already organising the information flooding his senses. Section headers appeared above each collection—Basic Combat Arts, Elemental Theory, Movement Techniques, and Weapon Mastery.
There were tens of thousands of books just on the first floor, and he did not have the time to go through each one of them by himself.
’Not much time. I need to be efficient.’ He decided to go to the second, where the sword arts were kept.
Whisper of the Autumn Blade. Dance of the Twin Swords. The Flowing Stream Technique. Shadow Cut.
Even the sword arts alone were thousands in number. All of them had a yellow book cover, which he assumed was in relation to their grade.
’If I want my killer persona to remain unknown to others, I need different techniques for when I am under the cloak and when I am not.’ Thinking of this, Shen Yuan picked one of the books and started flipping through it.
Its name was...
Basics of Formless Sword Art.
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