They Were Not Supporting Characters, but Another Mountain

When they returned to the Side Hall, the elders were still there.

Seeing the two walk in side by side, Yun Lingge's gaze lingered on her daughter for a moment longer.

It seemed as if they were trying to discern something from that perpetually expressionless face.

But there was nothing there.

Yun Qingyao remained the same, dressed in white as snow, with a calm expression.

I returned to my seat and sat down as if nothing had happened.

Yun Lingge withdrew her gaze and looked at Qin Wangchuan.

How was your shopping trip?

"Very good." Qin Wangchuan sat down. "The Yun Clan is more interesting than I imagined."

After a few brief pleasantries, he changed the subject and got to the point.

"I have another request to make of the Yun Clan this time."

Qin Wangchuan told him about his idea of forging weapons.

The elders listened with varying expressions.

Some joked, "Whatever the Divine Son Qin wants, plenty of people will rush to give it to him. Why would he need to forge it himself?"

Qin Wangchuan nodded and said firmly, "It has to be Non-Self."

Upon hearing those four words, the group stopped laughing and exchanged glances.

To be honest, this kid does indeed have Yun Clan blood in him.

He looks exactly like his mother.

Back then Yun Qiuying always looked like this when she was about to do something.

Without a doubt, it has to be Non-Self.

"Alright."

The Myriad Scroll Tower stands deep within the Yun Clan.

A six-story ancient building.

It looks unremarkable, even somewhat old.

But only when you get closer can you feel the overwhelming sense of time—not decay, but a sense of history.

Yun Zexuan walked beside him, reminding him, "The forging methods below the third floor are all ordinary; try to go higher up."

Knowing that he wanted to help, Qin Wangchuan was thinking of starting from the first floor.

After thanking him, I stepped into the building.

Yun Zexuan stood at the door, smiling with a complicated expression.

"I should be thanking you."

Behind me, the building doors slowly closed.

The building was very quiet.

Sunlight streamed in through the high window frames, falling on the stacked bookshelves.

A figure was already waiting there.

He was an old man with white hair and beard, but his back was ramrod straight.

Upon seeing Qin Wangchuan enter, he bowed slightly.

"Divine Son Qin"

"I am the person in charge here, and I have heard that the Divine Son is searching for a forging method."

As he spoke, he gestured for them to proceed and led the way.

"The first floor here houses a wide variety of techniques, but they are all common forging methods used by the clan's disciples for practice."

"The forging techniques on the second and third floors are quite rare; some of them are manuscripts from past masters."

"The fourth floor is the limit that many people can reach. It contains some ancient books, including some extraordinary items."

At this point, he paused slightly and turned to look at Qin Wangchuan.

"The elder has instructed that you may go directly to the sixth floor."

"That's the Tall Building, containing the Yun Clan's top-tier forging techniques accumulated over ten thousand years."

"So, which floor would you like to start with?"

Qin Wangchuan did not hesitate.

"First floor."

The old man was taken aback.

"First floor?"

He was somewhat puzzled, but nodded slightly and continued to lead the way.

"This way, please."

Soon, we arrived at the entrance to the library.

Qin Wangchuan stepped inside.

The old man stood at the door, watching the figure disappear into the depths of the bookshelves, hesitating whether to speak.

The library contains a large number of books.

It would take months to see the whole floor.

In addition, the books on the first floor were all ordinary items, intended for the clan's disciples to practice with.

He didn't think that Qin Wangchuan would find what he wanted in this.

Qin Wangchuan didn't think so either.

But what if you miss it?

' The Wheel of Fate... its forging method must be very special, perhaps even a combination of multiple forging techniques...'

Qin Wangchuan picked up a book on forging techniques and was thinking when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of his eye.

He turned his head abruptly.

At the far end of the bookshelf stood a person.

Wrong.

It was just a fleeting afterimage.

Its form was blurry, as if it could be blown away by the wind at any moment.

But that face—

Qin Wangchuan's pupils contracted slightly.

That was him.

Another version of yourself.

I just don't know what path it is.

The afterimage didn't look at him; it simply pulled a book on forging techniques from the bookshelf, opened it, glanced at it a few times, and put it back.

Then pull out the next book.

Continue in this manner.

The movements are mechanical, yet they carry an almost obsessive seriousness.

Soon, the bookshelves on the first floor were searched through.

A fleeting shadow stepped forward and ascended to the second floor.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he suddenly turned around and shook his head in Qin Wangchuan's direction.

His lips moved slightly.

Qin Wangchuan understood.

No, that's not it.

He glanced down at the manual he had just picked up, then without further hesitation, put it back on the bookshelf and followed.

The old man at the door was taken aback.

"Divine Son, this...?"

He couldn't see the afterimage, so he naturally couldn't understand why Qin Wangchuan suddenly wanted to leave.

Qin Wangchuan offered no explanation.

"Let's go upstairs."

Second floor.

I've already seen half of the afterimage.

He flipped through the pages quickly, yet somehow it gave the impression that he had read each and every one of them carefully.

Third floor.

Fourth floor.

Fifth floor.

The speed of the afterimage remains constant.

Qin Wangchuan followed behind, watching the figure move among the rows of bookshelves, and a strange feeling welled up in his heart.

How long exactly has that version of myself stayed here?

He didn't know.

But he knew that the other party was helping him.

Finally.

A corner on the fifth floor.

The afterimage reached out and pulled a book on forging techniques from the bookshelf.

A moment later, he turned around and handed the forging manual to Qin Wangchuan.

Qin Wangchuan subconsciously reached out to catch it--

Fingertips pass through the afterimage.

The afterimage dissipated, like smoke and mist, as if it had never existed.

Qin Wangchuan's hand hovered in mid-air, pausing for a moment.

He withdrew his hand, turned to the bookshelf, and pulled out the book from where the afterimage had stood.

<The Nine-Turn Divine Forging Art>.

Turn to the first page.

In a daze, it felt as if a heavy hammer had fallen from the sky!

Boom--

Sparks flew everywhere!

Qin Wangchuan subconsciously closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the general outline of the cultivation technique had appeared on that page.

"Heaven and earth are the furnace, and creation is the craftsman."

"All things are charcoal, but I am steel."

"Nine-Turn create a masterpiece, each cycle adding another layer."

"Nine-Turn complete, forging a divine master."

He finished reading it in a low voice and closed the book.

Casting God.

What a boastful tone.

But just by looking at the general outline, you can tell that this method is indeed powerful.

I looked up, trying to find that afterimage.

It's gone!

Qin Wangchuan glanced around and suddenly sensed something. He then strode towards the sixth floor.

"Divine Son, wait a minute, some bookshelves on the sixth floor are protected by restrictions..."

Upon seeing this, the old man quickly chased after them.

Once upstairs, a quick search revealed the afterimage in front of a bookshelf.

The afterimage was staring at a book on forging techniques.

<The Heavenly Mandate Ring>

He raised his hand, following the afterimage's movement.

The restriction was broken with unparalleled precision.

The old man stood there, stunned, his eyes wide.

Qin Wangchuan ignored his shock and reached out to take out the forging manual.

Turn to the first page.

There are no words.

There is only one circle.

Golden, perfectly round, as if drawn with a compass, or as if sketched in one stroke without a single pause.

Qin Wangchuan stared at the circle.

The more I stared at it, the more something seemed off.

That circle... seems to be moving.

It's not the kind of movement that spins on paper, but rather... sinking deeper and deeper.

It's as if beneath the paper lies a bottomless abyss.