Great Arts

The moment Ye Yan pushed the door open, a copper bell trembled above his head, giving a hoarse jingle, like a sigh that had traveled through time from the distant past.

The dim candlelight flared to life, one flame after another, igniting in succession along the shadowy corridors of bookshelves.

A layer of amber light rose over thirty rows of silent oak bookshelves, like little animals roused from hibernation. After a brief moment of wakefulness, they soon sank back into silence.

[Hello, Administrator.]

A strange voice, blending male and female tones, bypassed his ears and rang directly in Ye Yan's mind.

The voice sounded like countless tiny grains of sand rolling over glass, and like feathers gently brushing his eardrums.

"Y-you... Hello. May I ask who you are?"

Ye Yan's voice sounded rather thin in the spacious Bookhouse.

[I am Sam, I am Sara. We are the spirit of the Samsara Bookstore. From the moment we were born, we knew an administrator would come to awaken us. But we never imagined we would have to wait five thousand years.]

The wind swept between the bookshelves, and the candle flames dipped low.

A trace of melancholy and loneliness lingered in the air. Wax tears wound down like tearstains, hardening on the brass candlesticks.

For a moment, Ye Yan didn't know what to say.

Five thousand years of waiting, while a human life lasted no more than a mere hundred years. The contrast left his chest feeling tight, as if something heavy were pressing down on his heart.

"I'm sorry. I should have come sooner."

[There's no need to apologize, Administrator. We're very happy you've come. And you've brought us an interesting travelogue. In return, we'll grant you knowledge.]

The Bookhouse's voice grew cheerful, and the wind chimes by the entrance swayed softly.

[Go and see. Go and feel.]

The Bookhouse's voice faded away. A melodious birdsong sounded in Ye Yan's ears, as if gently humming a tune with no discernible melody. It carried a breeze into his dream.

His body gradually grew heavy, while his soul felt light and airy, as though it were about to float away.

Yellow sand filled the sky.

Ye Yan saw a city of stone, drinking in sand and dust, vanishing without a trace in the wind. Its name was Mia.

This was a story about sand.

And, just as the Bookhouse had said, he did indeed gain knowledge from it: a recipe for making [Salt Trace] with sea salt.

Salt Trace, a tier-one item that could be stored for up to a month. It could track and reveal things.

Ye Yan slowly awoke from the dream.

He instinctively touched his cheek, as though he could still feel the desert's scorching heat. Recalling the item recipe he had just obtained, he felt a faint excitement stir within him, and the corners of his mouth lifted involuntarily.

As far as he knew, only the Sanctum could awaken its church members' abilities to track and reveal things through the Radiance ritual.

If he could make Salt Trace, it would be like gaining an extra skill. How could that not excite him?

Knowledge was power.

That saying really was true everywhere.

[Administrator, did you gain knowledge?]

The Bookhouse's voice sounded again, carrying a note of anticipation this time.

"Yes. I learned the recipe for making Salt Trace."

Ye Yan answered.

[Was it Salt Trace? What a pity. It wasn't Birdsong Lore.]

The Bookhouse's voice held clear disappointment.

Ye Yan frowned slightly. "Birdsong Lore? What's that?"

When in doubt, ask.

Ye Yan was still a complete novice when it came to the occult.

[Three belong to Radiance, three belong to Night, and three are uncounted. The Tree of Wisdom grants scholars the right to learn the nine Great Arts, and Birdsong Lore is one of them.]

As the Bookhouse explained, Ye Yan gradually came to understand what the Great Arts were.

The Great Arts were techniques for wielding mysterious power. Unlike skills granted by ascending the Steps, they could be learned after the fact.

Through the Great Arts, scholars could understand the mysterious, rather than merely using mysterious powers on the surface.

They were divided into three categories of arts.

The three Arts of Radiance were Hour Lore, Fire-Stealing Art, and Illumination Art. They represented the miracles of the hidden world.

The three Arts of Night were Silence Art, Night-Walking Art, and Worm Lore. They represented the horrors of the hidden world.

The three Uncounted Arts were Jungle Lore, Preservation Art, and Birdsong Lore. They represented the unknown of the hidden world.

Now that he understood how wondrous the Great Arts were, Ye Yan finally realized why the Bookhouse regretted so much that he hadn't learned Birdsong Lore.

The birdsong that had led him into the dream earlier had been an application of Birdsong Lore. Unfortunately, he hadn't grasped it.

At the thought, Ye Yan's brow furrowed more tightly.

"Can I still learn Birdsong Lore?" he asked, his voice edged with urgency.

[Don't lose heart, Administrator. As a chosen and qualified person, you certainly have the potential to master all nine Great Arts. It's only a matter of time.]

Hearing the Bookhouse's reply, Ye Yan let out a sigh of relief. He had worried that he lacked the talent and had only learned a comparatively low-level piece of knowledge.

"So I need to present the Bookhouse with more books related to the mysterious, and trade knowledge for knowledge, to learn more about the Great Arts from you?"

[Yes.]

"Then can I ask one question? What exactly are Woodland and Mansus?"

[Woodland and Mansus are the abode of the Hours.]

At the Bookhouse's answer, a look of understanding flashed through Ye Yan's eyes. Those two places really were connected to the Hours.

His basic understanding of the Great Arts had already taught him about the mysterious beings known as the Hours.

Put simply, the Hours were the gods of this world.

It seemed his crossing over might truly have something to do with the Hours. Otherwise, why had the Compass changed so dramatically after acquiring the Coordinate Marks for Woodland and Mansus?

"How do I get to those two places?"

Ye Yan continued asking. He was certain that if he could find Woodland and Mansus, the Path Home would be smooth and clear.

[Sorry, Administrator, we can't tell you anything about Hour Lore. You'll have to explore it yourself, or trade knowledge with us to get the answer.]

The Bookhouse's reply left Ye Yan somewhat disappointed.

It seemed there was no way to take a shortcut. He would have to explore step by step on his own.

He took a deep breath and straightened his back.

"All right, one last question. My travelogue records traces of two supernatural beings. Are those two beings Hours?"

[Yes. Those were manifestations of their power.]

Hearing this, Ye Yan smiled.

The Bookhouse's answer was undoubtedly good news.

If the Hours could affect the place where he was, that meant the place he was in and the Hours' abodes, Woodland and Mansus, weren't two realms entirely cut off from each other.

If they were connected, then he would find a way.

Even if there wasn't a way, he would punch a hole through and open a door.

So, what he had to do now was...

Ye Yan slowly turned around, his gaze sweeping across the thirty rows of silent oak bookshelves.

The shelves glimmered with flecks of golden light in the candlelight. Each one was empty, except for the cubby nearest the door, where his thin travelogue lay alone.

Could he really fill the Samsara Bookstore?

[Administrator, there's no need to worry.]

The Bookhouse's voice rang in his mind, gentler than before, like the rustle of dry leaves stirred by the night wind.

[Every story begins with a blank page.]

Ye Yan's gaze returned to the travelogue, and the uncertainty in his eyes gradually turned into something more resolute.

"That's right," he murmured, gently running his fingers over his travelogue. "At least now there's a first book."

If he couldn't find one, he'd write one himself.

The two privileges to name books would at least let him comprehend the Great Arts two more times.