Chapter Twenty-Nine: Endurance

Yet after this round of transfers, Luan Shuangyu still had not found that person.

Standing atop the highest floor of the Scripture Pavilion, Luan Shuangyu gazed quietly at the gradually darkening horizon, lost in thought.

Elsewhere, Ye Han had already reached the outer perimeter of the Scripture Pavilion.

He sensed more and more presences nearby.

“Will entering the Scripture Pavilion at this hour get me noticed?” Ye Han wandered aimlessly around the pavilion. Each time disciples of the Crescent Moon Sect crossed paths, Ye Han would follow behind, blending in.

His purpose was simple: to conceal his movements.

He had no idea whether the thermal sensors could intelligently track and analyze someone.

Those devices probably couldn’t remotely sense his appearance.

Thus, he needed to mask his own heat signature by mingling with the varied warmth emitted by others.

“This pouch contains a sensing chip, probably implanted when that examinee arrived.” Ye Han touched the pouch at his waist.

He had snatched the pouch along with the clothing.

To fully evade detection, he’d have to discard it—but what if he used it to enter the pavilion?

Ye Han quietly observed for a long time,

discovering that the Scripture Pavilion was essentially open to all.

Aside from an elderly man at the entrance who exuded the air of a hidden master, the other guards were negligible.

Moreover, sect disciples entered without any verification.

This seemed unreasonable—how could the repository of a sect’s legacy be so casually guarded?

“Should I risk it?” Ye Han licked his lips, his eyes wavering, his mind torn.

It was a psychological game.

If he discarded the pouch, he could avoid potential risks, sneaking in during the dead of night while everyone rested.

A gamble.

If the others really were asleep, he could retrieve what he wanted without exposing his abilities.

If he failed, the risk was revealing one talent, and the pavilion’s defenses would tighten.

If he kept the pouch, he could capitalize on the confusion, entering boldly.

If he wasn’t stopped, he’d have ample time to plunder the pavilion.

Even if discovered later, as long as he secured the goods, exposing his teleportation would be acceptable.

“Let’s gamble, then!” Ye Han glanced at the darkening sky.

He’d come this far—exposure or secrecy, nothing more.

He didn’t even know the name of the disciple he’d killed, let alone wait until midnight at the other’s dormitory.

Now that he was inside the Crescent Moon Sect, he couldn’t keep wandering aimlessly; that would only increase the risk of exposure.

Ye Han was never indecisive—once he decided, he acted.

Before darkness fully settled, Ye Han strode directly toward the Scripture Pavilion.

The mountain peak hosting the pavilion had its summit sliced off.

The pavilion sat atop the flattened peak.

The Crescent Moon Sect’s Scripture Pavilion was vast—its ground floor spanned over ten thousand square meters, with seven floors altogether. Each ascending level shrank in area, the topmost floor barely a thousand square meters.

Calling it a “pavilion” was misleading; it resembled a “stone tower” more.

Ye Han ascended to the summit, standing in the plaza before the pavilion, looking up.

At this height, the pavilion appeared far more imposing than from the mountain’s base.

Its architecture echoed ancient Chinese style, with faint paintings and carvings inside, composed mostly of dignified traditional motifs. The double-eaved roof, layered eaves, and ornate galleries complemented each other, rich in color. Surrounding the pavilion was a bluestone corridor, lending it a solemn and majestic atmosphere.

But the pavilion had another distinctive flair.

Its walls were built from pale golden stone, engraved with mysterious runes. Under the night sky, faint streams of light flickered across them.

Ye Han couldn’t discern the function of these rune formations, but guessed they were defensive in nature.

“This is the moment of truth!”

Ye Han stepped onto the stone stairs, his expression calm as he entered.

His consciousness covered a ten-kilometer radius; every rustle and shift was within his awareness.

He was always ready to flee.

On Xiyuan Star, the power unleashed by an eighth-level expert was akin to a nuclear blast; a ninth-level could suppress all beneath them.

Against a ninth-level opponent, Ye Han, even with spatial teleportation, had no guarantee of escape.

Fortunately, the Crescent Moon Sect belonged to the Eastern Li Dynasty.

The dynasty’s top combatants were only eighth-level; even if discovered, Ye Han’s odds of escape were more than half.

He exhaled slowly.

Ye Han stepped into the pavilion.

The old gatekeeper didn’t even lift his eyelids, reclining lazily on a bamboo chair, waving a battered palm fan, looking every bit the decrepit elder.

“So I’m in already?”

Ye Han found it hard to believe, subtly surveying the entire first floor.

The ground floor was spacious—bookshelves lined the walls, forming a circle. At the center stood a winding wooden staircase that spiraled upward to the second floor.

But access to the second floor was blocked by a door at the entry.

“Seems the first floor isn’t very important,” Ye Han mused.

But he didn’t mind—he started at the first bookshelf, systematically collecting the books.

He transmitted the text and images directly to Chen Xu via the inscription on his chest.

Elsewhere.

Chen Xu hadn’t contacted Ye Han in half a month; now, suddenly receiving a transmission, he immediately set aside his work.

He couldn’t comprehend the information Ye Han sent.

But the clone's control chip meticulously relayed all sensed content.

This data would be routed through Hanlan Star—Ye Han believed Yan Qiluo had the capacity to organize these cultivation manuals and techniques.

“It takes about three seconds to absorb all the text and images from a book.”

Ye Han rapidly flipped through manuals, simultaneously monitoring his surroundings.

A single Xiyuan Star technique ranged from hundreds to tens of thousands of words; each book had its own designated shelf.

Ye Han worked his way upward, unafraid of redundancy.

Though he recorded quickly, Ye Han still felt nervous.

His senses detected 85,857 books on the first floor.

At three seconds per book, without eating or drinking, he’d need three days to finish.

“If only my consciousness could read the text directly!”

Ye Han moved from one bookshelf to the next, his fingers dancing at an incredible speed.

Fortunately, night had fallen, and there were few disciples in the pavilion; otherwise, Ye Han’s frantic pace would surely draw attention.

But there was no helping it.

His senses could distinguish books, noting how many pages each had, but not the text on each page.

In the world of his consciousness, it was a blank expanse, lacking any definition.

“If only these books were all in braille, I’d be done already.”

His fingers grew numb with exertion, and Ye Han grumbled in frustration.

Time ticked by, soon deep into the night.

Ye Han had just finished a dozen bookshelves, the monotony and repetition forcing him to expend his core energy to restore his stamina and spirit.

He kept himself in peak condition.

However, as he became more absorbed, his attention drawn to the bookshelves, he failed to notice the significant shift in the inscription’s orientation.

At the top floor of the pavilion.

Luan Shuangyu twirled her pen with a strange expression. Moonlight stroked her hair like flowing water, leaving a solitary, chilly shadow within the loft.

This fellow had traveled so far just for the books in the Scripture Pavilion?

Luan Shuangyu could hardly believe it.

Someone in the ninth sequence possessed such a bizarre obsession!

When Ye Han first entered, she paid him little mind, but his rapid flipping through the manuals soon caught her attention.

As night deepened, the disciples of the Crescent Moon Sect gradually left the pavilion.

Now, only she and Ye Han remained inside.

The guards at the entrance could not perceive what happened within.

All around the pavilion, intricate formations were carved—not only defensive, but also restricting flight, dust removal, silencing, and blocking outside perception.

If not for these formations, Ye Han’s unusual activity would have had him hauled out for interrogation long ago.

Seeing him switch to yet another bookshelf, Luan Shuangyu stepped aside, adjusting the inscription’s orientation with precision.

“I want to see how long you can keep this up!”

She bit her lip lightly, her consciousness locked firmly onto Ye Han.

Her unease stemmed from the unknown, but now that she understood the intruder’s purpose, she felt calm.

The sect’s manuals offered no help in unlocking the gene lock—worthless to her.

Ye Han’s relentless theft hardly bothered her.

Instead, she was curious about Ye Han’s stamina.

Time passed, day and night alternated.

Three days without sleep or rest—even with core restoration, Ye Han felt exhausted.

His fingers had moved nonstop for three days, developing small patches of muscle at the fingertips.

“Maybe… a break?”

Placing the last book of the first floor back on the shelf, Ye Han’s vision swam, a wave of retreat washing over him.

This was only the first floor—six more remained, tens of thousands of bookshelves, over two hundred thousand manuals yet to review!

The numbers alone made Ye Han’s head ache.

“Forget it, just endure a while longer!”

Eyeing the staircase to the second floor, Ye Han gritted his teeth and ascended.

The first floor’s books were only half cultivation techniques; the other half was filled with strange tales from the continent, as well as alchemy and artifact refinement.

Based on the data, he could sense the level of the techniques here.

Not exactly commonplace, but certainly not rare treasures.

They were ordinary—disorganized and varied, but easy enough to master with practice.

Just what Earth needed.

Quantity breeds quality; these fundamentals, though humble, were indispensable foundations.

Ye Han believed that if he could transport all the techniques from the upper floors, Earth would advance swiftly in the mystical arts.

And if he could later loot the libraries of more sects, leveraging big data and the unique thinking of Earth’s people, they might achieve their own leap in this field.