Those words were neither written on paper nor carved into jade slips. They floated in the air.
They densely filled the entire space, like stardust suspended in the vacuum of the Star River, slowly spinning, drifting, and brushing past one another.
Every character was a tiny condensed fragment of Sword Intent, glowing all over in different hues.
Some were green as spring shoots, some red as branding irons, some silver-white as fresh snow, and some black as the Abyss.
Ye Lin reached out toward the nearest green character.
The instant his fingertip touched it, the character transformed into a streak of green sword light and entered his brow. Complete information on a sword art unfolded within his consciousness.
"Spring Breeze Turns to Rain Sword, seven forms. Suitable for the First to Third Heaven Quasi-Saint Realm. The Sword Intent is gentle and dense, emphasizing the method of silently moistening all things to seep through the opponent's defenses..."
Ye Lin experienced it once and committed the sword art to memory. The character then detached itself from his fingertip, floated back to its original position, and continued drifting leisurely.
Ye Lin looked around.
The first floor was far larger than it had appeared from outside. Within, it seemed to form a small world of its own.
As far as the eye could see, rows upon rows of bronze bookshelves towered into the vaulted ceiling.
Within every compartment of the shelves floated hundreds or thousands of such luminous character-orbs, packed together as densely as worker bees in a crowded hive.
The passages between the bookshelves varied in width. Some could accommodate three or four people walking abreast, while others allowed only one person to squeeze through sideways.
The ceiling was so high that its peak was nearly impossible to make out. Only a hazy