Each character was uniformly square and neat. Looking at them gave a sense of comfort, and reading them was effortless—no smudges, no blurry writing. Every sentence, every punctuation mark, was perfectly visible.
Punctuation—this too was something Yi Tianxing had taught Cai Yan.
It made copying books much easier.
And for those reading later, the experience would be far more enjoyable.
"What a magical Scripture Pavilion," Cai Yan murmured. "The ancient texts I copied—not only did the book's material change, but even the handwriting became so upright and tidy. You can't tell it was originally my handwriting at all. But it's clearer, easier to read. This is just perfect."
Flipping through the texts, she saw that the content was identical to what she had written. But now, the handwriting had transformed into perfectly aligned standard script—like something straight out of a modern language textbook. Clean, legible, and comfortable to read. However, these books did not contain any kind of transmission power—they had to be read and comprehended slowly and manually.
Because these were, after all, just ordinary books. They held no mystical will or insights that could be passed down magically.
No means of spiritual inheritance was possible here.
But that was also the true joy of reading.
"Yes," Yi Tianxing said with a calm smile. "I believe that one day, this place will become one of the greatest Scripture Pavilions on the Eternal Continent—filled with all kinds of ancient texts and tomes. Hopefully, one day, it will become a vast mountain of books, an ocean of learning."
It was empty now, but in time, thousands of books would fill its shelves—making it one of the greatest libraries between Heaven and Earth.
And not only could Cai Yan recall many books from memory—some scholars also carried texts on them, or had memorized the Four Books and Five Classics, and countless historical works. With them gathered, the first floor of the Scripture Pavilion would soon be stocked, no longer so empty or dull.
"I remember Uncle Huang also had several books with him. If we talk to him, he'll likely agree to store them in the pavilion," Cai Yan added thoughtfully.
"Indeed. Not just Confucian texts, but the classics of all the Hundred Schools of Thought—crafting manuals, medical books—all types of knowledge should be preserved here. My goal is: more, broader, and more complete," Yi Tianxing said with determination.
Yes, he could gather all the craftsmen in Xuanhuang Town and have them document their skills. These could be added to the Scripture Pavilion.
Of course, only mundane-level knowledge would be placed on the first floor. Cultivation-level techniques would be reserved for higher levels.
"If we want to promote this kind of effort, we need to think it through carefully—discuss it with Elder Huang and the others. For those who contribute books to the pavilion, we can offer a reward—merit points," Yi Tianxing said to himself.
Sometimes, knowledge was even more valuable than life itself.
In the main hall of the estate, Yi Tianxing sat at the head seat. Below him stood Xuanhuang Town's core members:
Huang Chengyan, Master Lu, Hu Bin, Wang Fengshan, Qiu Weiming, Jia Yucun, Lai He, Xue Jin, Zhang Yue, Yang Ye and his sons, Wang Dahu—and Cao Zhengchun silently standing behind him.
"My lord, if you intend to expand the Scripture Pavilion, I'll fully support you," said Huang Chengyan. "Thanks to Li An's white paper, I've transcribed several texts from memory. Though it's not much, I'd intended to keep them for my own reading. But if you need them, they should go into the pavilion—for the benefit of Xuanhuang's people and the enlightenment of all."
Everyone present had already heard about the Scripture Pavilion. Huang Chengyan was pleased to support it—it was a noble endeavor. For a scholar, passing on knowledge was a sacred duty.
"Also," he added, "with the arrival of so many scholars and students from other worlds and eras, their backgrounds vary greatly, and so does the knowledge they've seen. I think we should ask them to transcribe what they remember—their ancient texts and poems—and store them here. That will greatly enrich our pavilion's variety."
These scholars may be rigid and bookish, but they had memorized a vast amount of classical texts.
Copying books was second nature to them.
"Alright. I've decided," Yi Tianxing declared. "The first floor of the Scripture Pavilion will accept donations from anyone. Ordinary books, renowned classics, medical texts, philosophical works—all are welcome. Each book donated earns one merit point. Merit points can be exchanged for combat techniques or cultivation methods. But duplicate books will only be accepted once."
This wasn't charity—it was an incentive. Some skills were traditionally passed only to sons, not daughters, and were closely guarded. To have them documented and shared, there needed to be proper motivation.
So, the rewards system would only apply to non-cultivation knowledge.
But knowledge is crystallized wisdom, and should be encouraged.
"My lord," Hu Bin stepped forward, "my Tiangong Hall is home to many craftsmen. And under Master Lu's influence, they've all started researching ways to link mundane crafts to cultivation. I think many will be willing to document and donate their techniques—it's their legacy, after all."
Ever since Lu created things like the rune arrows, crossbows, and flying spears, other craftsmen had started exploring how to empower their creations—through runes and glyphs. But those required understanding symbolic language.
There was a book in the Scripture Pavilion—"Basic Treatise on Runes"—but it cost merit points to access.
And merit points were hard to get—only soldiers received a steady amount. Civilians had to complete tasks. In Tiangong Hall, creating useful inventions—like Lu's rune arrows—would earn merit.
Now, even transcribing mundane skills could get you merit points. That would definitely motivate people.
Even Wang Fengshan and others had no objections. As their cultivation deepened, they realized their medicine practices needed innovation—to eventually transition into alchemy. By sharing knowledge, they could benefit everyone.
"That's the first matter," Yi Tianxing said. "The second… is that I recently felt an impulse, a sign of an impending breakthrough. So, I plan to enter seclusion for a while. A true closed-door meditation. Unless there's a dire emergency, I won't be reachable. During that time, I'll rely on all of you to manage Xuanhuang's affairs and construction."
If he could avoid it, he wouldn't choose to disappear now.
"You're going into closed seclusion?" Huang Chengyan looked at him meaningfully, then nodded. "Now that Xuanhuang Village has become Xuanhuang Town, everything is in its early stages. Plus, the lighthouse is built, and it will draw in many new people. If you're away too long, we might not be able to handle everything ourselves."
His tone suggested a hidden message.
"True," Master Lu agreed. "The lighthouse might attract nearby factions to investigate or make contact."
"Don't worry," Yi Tianxing replied. "It's just the Divine Sea realm. This seclusion won't last long—at most, two weeks. Maybe just a few days."
He understood this was a crucial time for development. The sooner he returned, the better.
But if he missed the First Martial Tournament of the World, that would be a huge loss—a tremendous opportunity.
Yang Ye and the others promised to protect the town during his absence.
At that moment, in a shadowy corner of the hall…
A green-furred mongrel dog was hiding, motionless. Its green eyes were squinting. The green fur that had once only covered its paws was now spreading up its legs—its calves were partially covered. It looked like a piece of walking moldy meat.
The creature didn't make a sound, didn't emit a single trace of aura. No one in the hall had noticed it.
The Green Emperor squinted and perked up its ears, sneering internally.
"Closed seclusion? Yeah, right. Think I don't know cultivation? Divine Sea realm needs a death-closed-door seclusion? No way. He's definitely working on some sneaky scheme. I, the Green Emperor, will expose his true face. This time, I'll catch dirt on him. Let's see if he dares refuse me spirit stones after that."
"I want ten meals a day, ten stones per meal! Let's go, Green Emperor—you can do this. Time to collect blackmail material."
Its eyes gleamed with cunning as it stared at Yi Tianxing, full of suspicion.
It just knew Yi Tianxing wasn't going into seclusion—he was definitely up to something shady.
And once it caught him… those shiny spirit stones would all be his. No more rationing, no more working the mines. He'd feast every day like a king.
This, he would not forgive.