The formation of the faint, radiant orb in Li Wei's dantian, which he believed to be the beginnings of his Golden Core, filled him with a quiet triumph. The hidden valley, with its ancient tree and shimmering pool, seemed to hum with approval, its mystical energy amplifying his qi. Yet, the scroll's cryptic passages hinted that Core Formation was only the foundation for greater challenges, requiring knowledge beyond its bamboo slats. A new section caught his eye, titled "The Immortal's Library," describing a repository of ancient wisdom where cultivators could uncover techniques to refine their cores and ascend further. "Seek the tomes of the ancients," it read, "for within their words lies the map to eternity." Li Wei, fueled by his recent progress and the valley's spiritual aura, interpreted this as a call to action—a quest for sacred texts to deepen his cultivation.
The idea of a library filled with immortal secrets set Li Wei's imagination ablaze. In his old life in Beijing, he'd been a voracious reader of wuxia and cultivation novels, where hidden archives held scrolls of forbidden techniques or maps to mystical realms. The scroll didn't specify where this "Immortal's Library" might be, but Li Wei, ever the optimist, believed it could be a real place—a forgotten shrine or archive near Mount Tai, perhaps guarded by the same spiritual forces that had led him to the valley. His resources were scarce—his body weakened by hunger, his funds nearly depleted—but his resolve was ironclad. If the heavens had guided him this far, they would lead him to the library.
Li Wei spent the morning preparing, tending to Azure Dragon, his scruffy spirit beast, with a handful of foraged berries and a pat on the head. The dog's amber eyes followed him as he packed his tattered backpack with the scroll, jade slip, and notebook, its pages now filled with fervent entries about qi, tribulations, and visions. He left the valley, promising to return, and hiked down Mount Tai to the city of Tai'an, where rumors of historical sites and hidden relics abounded. The scroll's mention of "ancient tomes" suggested a place of cultural significance, and Li Wei's mind turned to the Dai Temple, a sprawling complex at the mountain's base, known for its historical artifacts and ancient inscriptions. If an Immortal's Library existed, it might be hidden there, disguised as a mundane archive.
Tai'an buzzed with tourists, their chatter a jarring contrast to the valley's serenity. Li Wei, with his wild hair and tattered clothes, drew curious glances as he navigated the crowded streets to the Dai Temple. The temple's red walls and ornate roofs loomed grandly, its courtyards filled with stone steles and bronze statues. Li Wei paid the modest entry fee with his last few yuan, slipping past tour groups to explore the quieter corners. The scroll had described the library as "veiled from mortal eyes," so he searched for hidden passages—behind altars, under statues, anywhere that might conceal a secret entrance. His heart raced with each shadowed alcove, but he found only dusty relics and locked doors.
As dusk fell, Li Wei's desperation grew. The temple was closing, and he hadn't found anything resembling a library. Determined not to leave empty-handed, he lingered near a side hall filled with ancient manuscripts, their faded calligraphy displayed behind glass. The hall was guarded by a lone security officer, a bored-looking man scrolling on his phone. Li Wei's pulse quickened—this was his chance. The scroll had spoken of "claiming wisdom through courage," and he interpreted this as a test. If the Immortal's Library was hidden, he would have to take a risk to find it.
When the guard stepped away for a break, Li Wei acted. He slipped behind a display case, his hands trembling as he pried open a glass panel. The manuscripts inside were brittle, their pages yellowed with age, but one caught his eye—a thin booklet bound in faded silk, its cover etched with symbols resembling those on his scroll. He tucked it into his jacket, his heart pounding with guilt and exhilaration. As he turned to leave, the guard returned, spotting him instantly. "Hey! What are you doing?" the man shouted, lunging forward.
Li Wei bolted, clutching the booklet as he sprinted through the temple's courtyards. Tourists gasped, and the guard's shouts echoed behind him. He darted into an alley, weaving through Tai'an's narrow streets until he lost his pursuer in the evening crowds. Panting, he hid in a shadowed doorway, the stolen manuscript heavy in his hands. Guilt gnawed at him—stealing was wrong, but the scroll justified it: "The Dao demands sacrifice for wisdom." He opened the booklet, its pages filled with cryptic diagrams of qi flow and herbal recipes, eerily similar to his scroll. Was this a piece of the Immortal's Library?
Back in the valley, under the ancient tree's glowing blossoms, Li Wei studied his prize. The booklet's text was dense, mentioning "elixir refinement" and "core stabilization," fueling his belief that it was a sacred text. He meditated with it, pressing it alongside the jade slip, and felt the warmth in his dantian pulse stronger, as if the booklet's knowledge was merging with his qi. He scribbled in his notebook: "Immortal's Library found. Tome acquired. Wisdom flows, core strengthens." He shared the triumph with the Order of the Jade Dawn, omitting the theft, and Zhang Wei and Liu Mei marveled at his find, urging him to decode its secrets.
As the valley's mist curled around him, Li Wei sat by his altar, Azure Dragon snoring softly nearby. The stolen booklet, real or not, was a victory, a step toward refining his Golden Core. The scroll promised greater wisdom ahead, but also greater risks. Li Wei, with his sect's support and his unyielding faith, was ready to face them, the weight of his actions a small price for the path to immortality.