Chapter 168: Blood Library

The dawn at the fortress was silent, but not in the same way. The previous silence had been empty. This one was now laden with departure.

In the gray light filtering through the perpetual clouds, the little of the morning was illuminated as visitors and branch leaders prepared to leave.

Carriages and winged beasts were loaded, farewells were short and formal. The gaze of Dong Zhen, who was observing from one of the highest towers, ensured that no one lingered any longer, causing any inconvenience.

Kyrian watched from his narrow window.

When the last group departed, a subtle relief ran through the fortress. The weight of external curiosities was gone, leaving behind only the permanent inhabitants and the five new direct disciples.

It did not take long for the summons to reach Kyrian.

A servant knocked on his door.

“Young Master Kyrian. Master Dong Zhen requests your presence in the Core Hall along with the others.”

Kyrian nodded and followed the servant. The path to the vast courtyard was familiar now. When he arrived, the other five were already there, forming an unstable semicircle before Dong Zhen.

Bai Zhu was standing, but he seemed like a pale and worn-down version of himself. His right arm was bandaged up to the shoulder, and his gaze, once full of arrogance, was now fixed on the ground, avoiding everyone, especially Kyrian.

The defeat and the strange burn had left him with a frightening impression of Kyrian.

Li Fen stood motionless like a shadow, his expression impassive. His internal injuries seemed healed, but an even greater coldness still emanated from him.

Yan Ling appeared to be the most composed. Her calculating eyes were already evaluating the others, reorganizing her understanding of everything, especially Kyrian as the center.

Kai, as always, seemed hardened and impassive, but his eyes observed Dong Zhen with extreme attention and unmistakable respect.

Mei Li, from the diplomacy branch, maintained a polite expression, but there was a slight tremor of anxiety in her hands. She was the one who seemed most out of place among those combat monsters.

Dong Zhen observed them, one by one.

“You are here because you possess what the Bloody Court needs most. That is, talent and potential.” He began, his voice echoing in the empty chamber.

“For the next five years, this place will be your prison and your paradise. You will train until you bleed, cultivate until you break, and learn the true meaning of the power of blood. And perhaps of other paths.” He added, his gaze resting on Kyrian for a fraction of a second.

“Your former branch loyalties are irrelevant now. You answer only to me. To one another, as I expect you to be able to trust. But trust here is earned with strength and usefulness, not merely with words.”

He extended his hand, and a servant approached with a tray containing five dark metal pendants, similar to Kyrian’s, but with a slightly different symbol.

A drop of blood inside an inverted triangle.

“These are your new identifiers. They mark you as disciples of the Main Branch. Do not lose them.”

Each of them took theirs. Kyrian felt his own pendant, it seemed to be made of a superior material, which was more than just a tracker but also a symbol of his position that was still above the other five.

“Group training will begin in three days.” Dong Zhen continued.

“Until then, recover. The injured, use the pills I will provide shortly. Kyrian.”

All eyes turned to him.

“You have access to the Blood Library. The servant will guide you now. The others are dismissed.”

The other five dispersed, some with curious looks, others with closed expressions. Bai Zhu left without looking back.

A different servant, older and with a scholarly air, bowed to Kyrian.

“Young Master Kyrian, please, this way.”

They left the core courtyard and entered a part of the fortress Kyrian had never seen. The corridors here were narrower, the walls lined with metal shelves interwoven with veins of red crystal that emitted constant light.

The air smelled of old parchment, dust, and a faint trace of metal and herbs.

Finally, they arrived at a large dark wooden portal, reinforced with iron bars and engraved with complex runes of containment and protection.

The servant touched his own pendant to the lock. An audible click echoed, and the doors opened inward, without a sound.

“The Young Master’s access is registered. You may enter and leave at will. The sections are divided and organized by themes.”

“Scrolls and rare or restricted techniques are in the upper wing, available only with the specific authorization of Master Dong Zhen.”

The Blood Library was not a room, but an entire world. The main hall extended upward across several floors, connected by spiral staircases of black iron.

Massive shelves, made of the same material as the fortress walls, rose until they were lost in the gloom of the high ceiling, illuminated by red crystal orbs that floated gently.

The quiet was absolute, broken only by the nearly inaudible hum of preservation formations.

It was terrifyingly vast. More than he had imagined it would be. But that was definitely good.

Kyrian walked down the central aisle, his eyes scanning the titles on the walls. The immensity was intimidating but also a promise.

He had time. With the limit of his eyes preventing him from cultivating for a few more days, and with the other five recovering or adapting, without orders from Dong Zhen. The library would become his refuge and his main tool to pass the time.

He decided to start with the basics. In a section marked “Geography and Regions,” he found a huge atlas bound in fossilized beast leather.

Kyrian opened it on an isolated study table. His eyes, now a deep and attentive red, ran across the pages at a speed that would make an ordinary scholar faint.

Border lines, names of kingdoms, sects, seas, and mountain ranges were etched into his mind with photographic clarity.

It was then that he saw the true scale of his world.

The “Northern Territory.” Where the Bloody Court was hidden was only a tip, an extreme and rugged tip of something much, much larger.

Called the Atherno Continent.

The map showed Atherno as a colossal landmass, divided into five great regions. North, south, east, and west, and at the heart of all of them, the imposing Central region.

The detail in the central region was minimal in the general atlas, merely an indication that it was the domain of the oldest and most powerful forces. It was a place where even 4° level forces like the Bloody Court would be considered insignificant.

Kyrian closed the atlas. He was no longer lost in a vague ’north.’ He had a general context now. He was on the periphery of a vast world beyond his previous imagination. Information was also a form of power, and he was starving for it.

In the following days, he became a silent specter among the shelves. He did not yet seek the deep secrets, the answers about the mark, or the black masses of hostility.

First, he needed a foundation. He read books about ferocious beasts, cataloging their weaknesses, habitats, and powers. He studied treatises on alchemy and spiritual herbs, understanding their uses and dangers, even knowing that most would not serve him.

He devoured histories about inheritances left by powerful ancestors, learning about common traps and tests of character.

His eyes were the perfect tool. Each page was absorbed in seconds, every diagram every archaic character was understood and stored in a memory that seemed to have no limits. It was like filling an infinite jar with a river of ink.

An entire day passed. The light of the red crystals never changed, so it was only by the servant who appeared with a tray of food that Kyrian realized time had passed.

Dense meats, dark breads, and vegetables still unknown. Kyrian thanked him with a small nod and returned to the pages while chewing slowly, eating with one hand while turning pages with the other.

On the ’second day,’ marked by the second visit of a servant with food, Kyrian had already swept through entire sections of practical knowledge.

His mind was now a living atlas, a bestiary, and a herbarium. He finally felt a little less like an outsider in this brutal world.

It was then that, on a shelf of “Cultivation Theories and Rare Phenomena,” a small and discreet book, with a cover of simple worn brown leather, caught his attention.

The title was already almost erased.

“The Secret of Innate Talents…”

An impulse made him take it. He sat down and opened it with an expectation he rarely felt.

Disappointment was quick, but not total. The book confirmed what he already knew from experience and rumors.

Innate talents were anomalies of nature, blessing mortals with a gift that defied the norms of cultivation from birth. They were exceedingly rare.

“It was the supreme luck among those born mortal.”

And their potential could rival the principal celestial physiques. There were brief examples described in the book.

“Innate Divine Strength. Once there appeared a boy who could lift a house before even reaching ten years of age.”

“Innate Divine Soul. A young woman who comprehended a complete water intent before even beginning to cultivate.”

There was mention of two other types that appeared in past eras, but the details were vague, lost to time.

The book was more of a superficial historical record than a secret. Kyrian closed it. It was still useful to know more about his condition, it was a known concept, but one still not fully understood.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep