Chapter 74: Chapter 74
"There is one last book left. It looks like it will be in vain this time." Ethan’s tone was quietly resigned as he reached for the final item resting on the bottom shelf of the physical cultivation area—a sense of closure and disappointment already settling like dust in his mind.
He expected paper, ancient and yellowed, but the sensation was wholly foreign as his fingers closed around the object. Warm and cool at once—like rain on sunbaked rock—and heavier by far than any mere book had the right to be.
Ethan lifted it off the shelf. It wasn’t a book at all.
It was a slab—dark blue, smooth beyond belief, and no thicker than a double handful of cicada wings pressed between thin glass. Each "page" was stone, yet so finely layered that they moved with a subtle flex, clicking as he gingerly sifted through them.
"Interesting." His curiosity, so recently battered by disappointment, sparked anew.
He opened the stone "book." Sparse words were carved across each page and inscribed in sharp, mysterious script.
Each line was direct, almost painfully concise, and—frustratingly for Ethan—mostly things he already knew. Temper the bones, forge the blood, harden the flesh. It was advice he’d seen in every ordinary text on body cultivation.
But then, on the very last page, a single unfinished sentence stopped him cold.
"The so-called body cultivation is blood..."
Ethan flipped, searching for the rest. But there was no next page. The "book" ended in a maddening ellipsis.
"What kind of author leaves something so crucial unfinished?" Ethan felt a bitter amusement, nearly hurling the stone book in frustration.
But caution—and hope—halted him. Instead, he ran careful fingers over the stone surface, searching for any hint of hidden damage or tampered runes.
Nothing. The book was whole, unbroken by time.
"Grandma, I finally found some clues and now I’m staring at a bigger mystery..." Frustration nudged at him, his thoughts a tight coil in his chest.
But as he prepared to put the stone book back, a sudden stirring rippled through his body. His blood and essence, ever steady and calm, shivered—drawn toward the book as if responding to a primal call.
"What the hell?" Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
He gripped the stone slate tightly, his expression growing grave as realization dawned.
He focused, letting his cultivation senses expand.
Under the power of his Heaven-piercing Mind Eyes, the dark blue stone flashed brilliant azure, and faint red auras began to emerge—hovering, twisting, and finally coalescing into patterns.
Looking closer, Ethan saw that the auras formed words—a string of runic characters he could not recognize, yet their intent was sharp and clear: a seal, not of spiritual power but of pure mental power.
His pulse accelerated.
"I found a treasure!"
Excitement flared in his chest, quickly tempered into quiet determination. \
This world was strange; cultivators sometimes chanced upon inheritances or powerful items by luck—sometimes quite unreasonably so. Compared to transmigration, even miraculous discoveries were small ripples in the pond of fate.
What struck Ethan most, as he examined the seal, was the quality of its power.
The red aura was woven from mental energy, not spiritual, an accomplishment reserved for only the most sophisticated of masters. Anyone able to imprint a seal so delicate and resilient must be a terrifying figure, their mastery beyond question and their will enduring the grind of centuries.
Mental power outlasted spiritual power, after all—a technique or legacy sealed with it could lie undisturbed, potent even as eons passed.
The seal on the stone book felt ancient, and if Ethan was not mistaken, it had lost much of its strength to the passage of time.
A more powerful mental power would have crushed him if the seal were still at full force. But now? Ethan felt confident; with the right effort, he might just break through.
"Strange that Mr. Stone didn’t sense this." Ethan paused, eyebrows creased in thought. But he shook the distraction away.
"Let’s try."
Ethan sank cross-legged to the floor, the stone book held before him. Blood and essence surged from his core, mind and body focusing in absolute silence. Hands formed his seal, palms glowing a cool, unyielding blue as he pressed them to the slate.
"Open!"
Mental energy poured forth, colliding with the rune’s ancient seal. Blue and red light intertwined, wrestling and grinding across a boundary unseen—a contest of will and power between epochs.
The resistance was monstrous. This was no ordinary prohibition.
Ethan gritted his teeth, intensifying his outpour. Upstairs, the confrontation of energies erupted into a storm of suppressed pressure. His face turned pale, hands trembling as he funneled everything he had into shattering the seal.
Down below, Mr. Stone, nestled in his own world of villainous illustrations, felt the sudden flare.
His senses flickered northward, instincts instantly alert.
"What’s that kid doing?" he muttered, peering through the tiers. "Is he having a sudden epiphany? Or has he gotten in over his head?"
Seeing Ethan’s wan complexion from a distance, Mr. Stone recognized a dire sign.
"This is no epiphany," he growled. Without hesitation, he vanished from his chair—leaving his restricted-level villain paintings fluttering to the floor.
Ethan’s battle of wills continued.
He felt the strain of failure pressing closer—his body aching on the verge of collapse. Still, he clung to the effort, determined to see it through.
If not today, then on another night, he would return, stronger and more prepared to claim this mysterious legacy.
Suddenly, a tremendous resistance built within the slate. The rhythmic thrum of danger crescendoed as the seal buckled and the slab shook violently in Ethan’s grip.
"Not good!" he shouted, flinging up his hands to shield himself.
Boom!
A mighty force burst from the stone book, sending Ethan flying back across the polished floor. He landed hard, senses spinning, with pain flaring in his arm. Before he could recover, a steady hand caught his shoulder, anchoring him safely.
Mr. Stone stood behind him, his aura tranquil and yet unfathomably deep.
"You kid, what are you doing making such a noise in the library?" Mr. Stone’s tone was sharp but not unkind.
Ethan gasped, "Senior, I discovered a sealed technique in the stone book—made purely of mental power. I tried to open it, but I underestimated how strong the seal was."
Mr. Stone’s expression turned grave. His gaze flicked to the stone book, which now floated in mid-air beneath a halo of blue light and burning red runes.
He extended a palm. Instantly, the book shuddered and flew to his hand.
He studied it, eyes narrowing in awe.
"This material... I’ve never seen it before. This seal is beyond complex. Whoever created it... is not weaker than I am, but time has worn it thin. This is an ancient relic—probably recording martial techniques, or perhaps something even stranger."
Ethan stood up, dusting the last confusion from his mind.
"Mr. Stone, didn’t you notice this before?"
Mr. Stone shot him a sideways glare.
"You think I have nothing better to do here than pore over every book? I hate reading."
A/N:
Extra Chapters
100 power stones - 1 Extra Chapters
200 power stones - 2 Extra Chapters
Capsule - 1 Extra Chapters
Massage Chair - 3 Extra Chapters
Luxury Car - 5 Extra Chapters
Magic Castle - 15 Extra Chapters