Following the guidance of memory, Liu Meng moved westward.
After the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, a magnificent pavilion suspended in midair emerged before her eyes.
This pavilion, constructed entirely from some colossal azure-hued wood, displayed flying eaves and carved beams, radiating a sense of both antiquity and solemnity.
This was the Scripture Repository of the Grand Dao Demonic Sect.
The sight left Liu Meng quietly astonished. If it were a mere first-layer Qi Refinement cultivator, they could exhaust every method they knew and still fail to even set foot within this place.
Drawing a steady breath, she mobilized the surging power of her Qi Refinement Fourth Layer cultivation. An invisible current lifted her body upward, carrying her gently through the air.
Though she could not yet truly soar through the skies, ascending to the pavilion was no longer an obstacle.
When she landed upon the platform before the crimson gates, the doors—sealed tightly a moment before—seemed to recognize her as a sect disciple. Without a sound, they opened inward.
A distinctive fragrance, a mixture of old timber and scrolls, rushed to greet her. Stepping inside, Liu Meng found herself in the first floor of the Repository.
The space was vast. Towering shelves stretched toward the ceiling like silent giants, partitioning the hall into endless corridors.
Not far from the entrance, she spotted a stairway leading to the second floor.
Instinctively, she moved to approach—but as soon as she took a step, a crushing weight descended from above, locking her in place like a mire.
She immediately understood: the second floor was not for her current cultivation to enter.
Abandoning the thought, she turned instead to the shelves around her.
Other disciples were already there, pacing quietly through the aisles, eyes intent, each searching for a technique of their own. The only sound was the occasional footstep, breaking the hush.
Imitating their demeanor, Liu Meng approached one of the shelves and began to observe.
Upon the shelves were no scrolls or tomes, but instead palm-sized wooden plaques.
Each plaque bore, in cinnabar script, the name of a technique, its cultivation requirements, and a short introduction.
Should one choose a technique, it was only necessary to remove the plaque; afterward, the complete manual would be delivered into their hands.
After some study, she discerned the system here.
The manuals were broadly divided into Techniques and Secret Arts.
Techniques were the foundation—like the Xuanpin Mantra or the Blood Banquet Sutra—methods that condensed spiritual energy and advanced cultivation.
Secret Arts, on the other hand, consumed spiritual power to unleash extraordinary effects: combat skills of devastating power, or bizarre methods of healing.
For her purpose today, either would suffice.
What she sought in a technique was something with tremendous side effects—locking one's cultivation limit, shortening lifespan—but granting a temporary surge of power.
As for secret arts, she wanted the extreme: those that burned away life force, or even demanded self-destruction, in exchange for world-shaking might.
She was certain the Repository must hold such things.
After all, even something like the True Interpretation of Severing the Three Corpses could be found here.
Yet after much searching, she found nothing fitting her desire.
This section was filled with techniques of the Xuanpin Sect: dual cultivation arts, charms of seduction, enchantments requiring the Xuanpin Mantra as foundation. All were centered around draining or enthralling others, far from what she sought.
Moving onward, she reached another section—one dominated by arts dealing with the soul, spirits, and mind.
Without question, this was the domain of Luo Feng City.
Casting only a cursory glance, she pressed forward.
At last, she smelled a faint trace of blood.
Her eyes lifted—and there, on the shelves ahead, lay plaques that made her heart quicken.
Burning Blood Incineration Art.Heaven-Demon Dismemberment Method.Seven Wounds Soul-Severing Guide.
Even their names exuded self-destruction. Exactly the kind of arts she was looking for.
This had to be the Blood Banquet Valley section.
Here, at last, was what she wanted.
But though she was ready to compare and select carefully, her gaze was suddenly caught by a plain, inconspicuous plaque to the side.
Blood Heir Substitute Technique.
"What is this…? Could it be…?" Liu Meng's expression shifted, a startling guess flashing across her mind.
Almost without thought, she reached out and took it.
Cool to the touch, the plaque revealed its inscription as she held it.
Secret Art: Blood Heir Substitute TechniqueIntroduction: Created by an elder of our Sect, who drew upon the Mother-Child Imprint Method of the Xuanpin Mantra, fusing it with the Blood Banquet Sutra. A century of effort was devoted to this unique creation.Effect: By offering their own blood as guide, the cultivator may refine a suitable vessel into a "Blood Thrall." All damage and injuries suffered by the cultivator may be transferred onto the thrall. So long as the thrall remains, the master's body shall endure—ever-living, undying.Note: The refinement conditions are extremely stringent. Without extraordinary fortune, success is nearly impossible. Ordinary disciples are advised not to squander their one chance per month.
Liu Meng froze in place.
Had she not struggled so tirelessly—raising her cultivation, searching for ever more lethal secret arts—all for the sake of protecting her true body?
And now, before her, was a method that promised exactly that.
If she could master this art, then no matter what, her true body would remain untouched.
With enough thralls, she could become truly unkillable.
It was as if the technique had been crafted just for her!
As for the "harsh requirements"?
She scoffed. The so-called "Immaculate Souls" required for soul banners had been considered impossibly rare as well. Yet had she not achieved it with ease, thanks to her All-Forms Body system?
So long as she had this system, no requirement was beyond her reach.
Resolute, she plucked the plaque from the shelf.
Instantly, an irresistible force surged forth, hurling her from the Repository.
When she regained her senses, she found herself once more on the platform outside.
The plaque clutched tightly in her hand was the only proof that she had indeed chosen it.