The Ling Family Library stood tall and silent.
Ancient stone walls. Wooden shelves layered from floor to ceiling. Spiritual formations pulsed faintly along the beams, preserving the texts within.
As Ling Shen stepped inside, a subtle heaviness pressed against his mind.
Not oppressive.
Just… vast.
Rows upon rows of books stretched before him — cultivation manuals, clan records, weapon techniques, medicinal scriptures.
Other children rushed past him eagerly, heading toward sections labeled "Body Tempering," "Spiritual Enhancement," and "Combat Arts."
Shen did not follow.
He walked slowly toward the deepest section of the library — where history and ancient records were stored.
Dust rested thick upon those shelves.
Few children chose history.
Fewer cared for it.
Shen pulled out an old volume.
Records of the Early Era.
He sat by a window and began reading.
The book spoke of a time before the current kingdoms.
A time when the world was unstable.
When disasters reshaped continents.
When beings of unimaginable power walked openly.
It described how humanity once believed the Gods were distant creators.
But later discoveries changed that belief.
Ancient scholars had uncovered carvings and forgotten scripts suggesting something unsettling:
The Gods were not born divine.
They ascended.
There were records of individuals in the distant past who had attempted to reach the "God Realm."
Some succeeded partially.
Most failed.
But all of them believed one thing—
It was possible.
The world knew that reaching the God Realm was not a myth.
It was a path.
The problem was not belief.
The problem was method.
No complete technique survived.
No manual recorded the process.
Every attempt was fragmented.
Some focused only on the body.
Some focused only on spiritual energy.
Some pursued external artifacts.
All incomplete.
All flawed.
Shen's eyes moved steadily across the pages.
"If they ascended…" he thought quietly, "then there must have been a state of wholeness."
His breathing slowed.
The concept resonated with him.
Not strength alone.
Not energy alone.
Unity.
He closed the book gently.
Around him, children whispered excitedly about powerful techniques they had found.
Shen did not feel excitement.
He felt clarity.
The world already knew mortals could reach the God Realm.
They simply did not understand how.
And perhaps—
They had been searching in the wrong direction.
For the first time since entering the library, Ling Shen's mind felt perfectly still.
As if he had just taken the first step on a path no one else could see.
Shen stood in the quiet corner of the library for a long moment.
The history books had given him thoughts to consider, but they were not something he could practice yet.
He was only five.
Understanding was one thing.
Action was another.
He began walking back toward the technique section.
Around him, other children excitedly grabbed thick manuals labeled with bold titles—
"Flame Body Art."
"Heavenly Strength Method."
"Golden Meridian Technique."
All loud.
All aggressive.
All focused on overwhelming force.
Shen stopped before a lower shelf that most children had ignored.
His gaze settled on a thinner volume tucked neatly between larger books.
Shadow Blade Technique.
He pulled it out.
Unlike the heavier manuals, this one did not describe overwhelming power or explosive energy.
Instead, it emphasized control.
Precision.
Silence.
The introduction read:
"The blade does not need to be large.
The strike does not need to be loud.
What matters is timing, clarity, and intent."
Shen's eyes lingered on the final word.
Intent.
The technique focused on movement through blind spots, controlling one's presence, minimizing spiritual leakage, and striking only when necessary.
It did not require massive spiritual reserves.
It required awareness.
Calm.
And control over one's inner state.
For a child who had never shown spiritual fluctuations, this technique was realistic.
Balanced.
Suitable.
Most importantly—
It matched his temperament.
Shen closed the book gently.
He did not need the strongest technique.
He needed the right one.
When Wu Li approached, she glanced at the title in his hands.
"Shadow Blade Technique, Young Master?"
Shen nodded.
"This one is enough."
Around them, the other children boasted about high-grade cultivation arts.
No one paid attention to the quiet boy holding a modest manual.
But Shen felt no dissatisfaction.
Some techniques roar like thunder.
Others move like shadows.
And shadows—
are patient.