The rear courtyard fell quiet again.
Shadow Four and Shadow Six followed Xu Pei out of the Heaven Patrol Office, crossing the front courtyard before quickly disappearing at the end of the long street.
Yi Yang withdrew his gaze and turned into the Duty Room.
Three old wooden chests sat side by side against the wall, their corners worn and their brass clasps rusted.
The topmost chest still carried dust from the Mo Family's study, with several handprints left on it during the move.
Yi Yang lifted the lid.
The musty smell of years of storage hit him in the face. He turned his head aside, waiting for it to dissipate a little before looking down inside.
Though the smell was strong, the books were neatly stacked and reasonably well preserved.
These ancient books came in all sorts of materials: some had cowhide covers, some were wrapped in silk, and others had loose bamboo slips tucked between paper pages. Each had its own origins.
The silver Mo Qianhe had spent on these things probably exceeded several lifetimes of savings for an ordinary household.
But now he was dead, and his books belonged to the Heaven Patrol Office.
What belonged to the Heaven Patrol Office belonged to Yi Yang.
He had painstakingly collected them for decades, only to sew another man's wedding robes in the end.
Yi Yang brought over a chair and sat down, taking out the first ancient book from the top of the chest.
His purpose was clear: to find traces of Pineclear Daoist among them.
The Wood-Nurturing Longevity Art reached a dead end at the true astral realm.
Without a method for continuing, no matter how quickly his cultivation progressed, he had nowhere to direct his efforts.
Switching to another true art was not impossible, but changing