Chapter Eighteen: The Thousand Shadows Spear Technique

As the great doors swung open, the third floor of the Scripture Repository was finally unveiled before Ye Cheng’s eyes. Unlike the second floor, which was arranged with intricate complexity, this level was strikingly simple. Two orderly rows of stone pedestals, numbering several dozen in total, stood steadfastly across the hall. Upon each pedestal rested a single martial arts manual. Ye Cheng understood at a glance that the techniques housed here were all at least of upper intermediate rank, and most belonged to the highest tier.

A single top-tier manual from this collection would be enough to drive countless martial artists into a frenzy. It was clear that the true value of the Scripture Repository lay in this third level.

Ye Cheng stepped forward, walking past the stone pedestals. Manual after manual flashed before his gaze, any one of them rivaling his current most powerful technique, “Lightning Vault.” He could not help but feel tempted, but the rules allowed him to choose only one. Thus, he forced himself to be calm and select the manual most suited to him.

“These techniques are passable,” Mu Lao remarked indifferently.

“If my teacher won’t offer me anything above the highest rank, I suppose I’ll have to make do with what’s available,” Ye Cheng replied, pursing his lips, a hint of complaint in his tone.

Mu Lao caught the note of grievance in Ye Cheng’s voice. Smiling, he said, “You’re quite resentful, aren’t you? But what master would ever begrudge teaching his disciple? It’s just that you are not yet ready to cultivate such techniques. If you tried now, you’d only end up injured.”

Ye Cheng could only smile wryly at that.

Suddenly, his steps halted. At the center of the chamber, a dark golden ancient tome lay quietly on a pedestal. Four bold characters adorned its cover: “Thousand Shadows Spear Art.” However, Ye Cheng’s gaze was drawn to the two characters engraved upon the pedestal itself: “Ye Shan.” He had not expected to find a martial technique left behind by his own father.

His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the dark golden tome. With a flutter of his eyelids, he opened it and was greeted by a familiar handwriting: “I, upon entering the Yuan Realm, was fortunate enough to comprehend this spear art. I leave it to my descendants...”

“It really is Father’s writing,” Ye Cheng murmured inwardly. Ye Shan had left behind several letters, and the script before him was unmistakably from the same hand—his father’s.

Sensing Ye Cheng’s unusual reaction, Mu Lao glanced at the manual in his hand and read the characters aloud, then praised, “So your missing father truly was a genius, to have created such a technique while still in the Yuan Realm.”

Ye Cheng nodded. He had heard stories of his father’s martial talent all his life, but he had never expected it to be so remarkable—creating a martial art while still in the Yuan Realm. The difficulty of inventing a technique far surpassed that of merely comprehending one.

“Peak of the Ancient Pill Realm,” Ye Cheng whispered to himself, running his fingers over the ancient tome before tucking it safely away, a firmer resolve shining in his eyes.

“If you had a spiritual-grade spear to match your father’s technique, your combat strength would increase by a tier. It would also give you more means to protect yourself in the coming trials,” Mu Lao said.

At this, Ye Cheng looked up and asked, “Teacher, where are you taking me for this trial?”

“One of the magical beast gathering grounds—the Demonwood Forest. Only there can you quickly condense your bloodline and step into the Yuan Realm. Otherwise, relying on the daily absorption of spiritual energy, it would take you an eternity to advance,” Mu Lao replied.

Ye Cheng frowned, puzzled. “That place will help me condense my bloodline faster?”

“Indeed. With your devouring constitution, you can absorb certain energy bodies. The blood cores formed within magical beasts are themselves energy bodies. Since the energy within them is impure, ordinary martial artists cannot absorb it; they can only embed the cores into spiritual weapons to enhance spiritual energy flow. But for you, by circulating the Devour Spirit Art, you can filter out the impurities and absorb the energy directly,” Mu Lao explained.

Ye Cheng’s eyes lit up, joy spreading across his handsome face. If that was so, his martial progress would be much smoother than he had imagined, and the time to reach the Yuan Realm would be drastically reduced.

“If you had enough money to purchase blood cores for cultivation, that would work as well,” Mu Lao added.

Ye Cheng spread his hands with a bitter smile. “I don’t have that kind of money. Better we head to Demonwood Forest. So, when do we leave?”

Mu Lao laughed at Ye Cheng’s response. “No rush. Before we go, you should at least inform your elders. This journey won’t be a short one—it will take at least several months. And you must select a spiritual-grade spear to practice your father’s spear art and protect yourself.”

Ye Cheng nodded in agreement. After wandering briefly through the third floor, he realized that time was slipping away. He lost interest in perusing other manuals and made his way back to the second floor.

Passing through the red light screen at the stone portal, he saw Ye Ming sitting quietly by the side, waiting. As Ye Cheng appeared, Ye Ming’s face broke into a delighted grin. He hurried over, eyebrows raised in anticipation. “Cheng, how did it go? Did you find anything good?”

Ye Cheng nodded, took out the dark golden tome from his robe, and handed it over. Ye Ming eagerly accepted it. Upon seeing that it was left by Ye Cheng’s father, Ye Shan, he exclaimed, “Second Uncle was a real genius! How is it that my own father, the clan head, didn’t inherit such talent...”

Ye Cheng could only shake his head helplessly at Ye Ming’s lament. “Let’s go. It’s about time,” he urged, striding out ahead.

At the exit of the Scripture Repository, the other Ye clan youths emerged one by one, faces alight with joy, each cradling a newly acquired manual. At a registration desk, Elder Ye Mo, the repository’s custodian, recorded the techniques as they were checked out.

Ye Cheng and Ye Ming approached. Ye Ming produced his chosen manual first, and Elder Ye Mo glanced at it, nodded in satisfaction, and logged it in the register.

When Ye Cheng presented the dark golden tome, Elder Ye Mo’s pupils contracted. At a glance, he recognized it as a top-tier martial technique, but he made no comment, simply recording it as required—there was no rule forbidding the selection of top-tier techniques.

With the registration complete, Ye Cheng and Ye Ming turned and left.

Watching the boys’ figures recede into the distance, Elder Ye Mo’s eyes grew thoughtful. He murmured to himself, “By rights, that formation cannot be entered without the clan head’s guidance. Yet this young one managed to enter and claim a martial art…”

“It seems this boy is anything but ordinary…”