Fire and Water annihilated each other upon contact, creating violent steam explosions. Wind fanned Fire into an uncontrollable inferno. Lightning shattered Earth. If a cultivator brought these clashing energies into their meridians without absolute, god-like harmony, they would instantly turn their own body into a bloody, localized bomb.
He looked at the complex, chaotic meridian diagrams sketched below the text. They mapped out a circulatory path that looked like a suicidal maze designed by a madman.
It required funneling fire through the left arm's minor meridians while drawing water through the right leg, forcing them to violently collide in the center of the chest just milliseconds before entering the Dantian to be stabilized by Earth and Wind.
'If a normal Dou Zhe—even a monstrous genius of the Central Plains—attempted this, their meridians would detonate in three seconds,' Yoriichi analyzed, his mind working at lightning speed to process the sheer danger of the technique. 'The pathways demand a physical vessel forged of indestructible iron, and a biological rhythm capable of harmonizing extreme opposites flawlessly.'
He gritted his teeth and tried to read further, attempting to memorize the chaotic, intertwining pathways.
He closed his eyes, utilizing his Inner Vision (Neishi), and mentally simulated the flow of the Battle Through the Heavens method using his own cyclone. He imagined pulling in the ambient fire from the air, and simultaneously pulling the moisture of the water.
Pain instantly flared behind his eyes, sharp and blinding like a physical blade piercing his skull.
The sheer complexity of the multi-elemental pathways was staggering. It was like trying to memorize the exact position of every star in the night sky while simultaneously calculating the shifting tides of the ocean in your head.
The more he tried to force the simulation, the more his mind rebelled. The concepts were simply too dense, written by a being whose understanding of the universe was lightyears ahead of a newly advanced 1-Star Dou Zhe.
The silence of the Pavilion stretched on.
Minutes bled into a full hour.
Yoriichi stood in the dusty corner like a petrified statue. His brow was heavily furrowed, his jaw clenched tight, and his crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light as he forced his brain to process the god-tier blueprint.
The mental toll was excruciating. He felt a phantom burning and freezing sensation in his meridians just from imagining the clashing energies moving through his body.
Finally, with a sharp, ragged exhale, Yoriichi broke the simulation.
He staggered a half-step back, forced to lean his hand against the cold ironwood pillar to steady his swaying body. A sudden, sharp, and incredibly loud rumble echoed from his stomach, breaking the solemn silence of the hall.
The intense mental calculation had violently accelerated his already monstrous metabolism. He was suddenly starving, deeply exhausted, and a fierce headache pounded relentlessly at his temples.
"I cannot decipher it all," Yoriichi sighed into the quiet hall, using his sleeve to wipe a heavy bead of sweat from his chin. He looked down at the dark scroll in his hand.
"After an hour of absolute concentration, I have only managed to memorize a few fractions of the initial circulatory loops. The rest is completely beyond my current comprehension."
He sighed again, realizing just how much time had passed. The ambient light filtering through the high windows had shifted from bright gold to a deep, bruising purple.
He needed to go out.
He looked at the scroll one last time. It was a gamble. A suicidal theory left behind by a mad, legendary ancestor. If he took it and failed, he would not just be crippled; there wouldn't be enough of his body left to bury in a jar.
But as Yoriichi read the bold title once more, a quiet, unshakeable resolve settled over his Dao heart.
This scroll of any Dou Qi method was something he had finally decided to take. He could not go out empty-handed, and he could not settle for a "safe" Xuan Fire method that would bottleneck his potential and force him to rely on standard Dou Skills.
If he wanted to forge a true Katana, and if he wanted to possess the absolute power to protect his new family from any threat this vast continent could produce, he needed a supreme foundation.
He had the indestructible physique of the Iron Fist. He had the perfect, unifying biological rhythm of Bredth of the Sun. If anyone in the history of this world could survive this cursed scroll and create this type of Qi, it can be him.
"This will be good," Yoriichi murmured to himself, his voice carrying an absolute, unbreakable finality.
He carefully closed the long, blackened parchment, rolling it up tight. Holding the heavy, defenseless scroll firmly in one hand, he turned his back on the dusty corner and started walking calmly down the main aisle toward the heavy doors to exit.
As he walked, the glowing pearls embedded in the high ceilings flared to life, casting long, dramatic shadows across the endless shelves of the Pavilion.
Outside the Pavilion, the sky had already surrendered to twilight.
The guarding elder was sitting on his woven mat, his wine gourd completely empty by his side. The old man's chin was resting comfortably on his chest, a soft, rhythmic snore escaping his lips. He had completely given up on waiting, assuming the eccentric genius was either meditating deeply or paralyzed by extreme indecision.
The heavy clack of the internal locking mechanism disengaging echoed sharply through the quiet, darkening courtyard.
The elder's eyes snapped open instantly. The sharp instincts of a Da Dou Shi banished his sleep in a fraction of a second. He sat up straight, clearing his throat and hastily adjusting his gray robes to regain his dignified composure before the youth could see him slacking.
The door groaned open, and Yoriichi stepped out into the cool evening air.
He looked exactly as he had when he entered: calm, stoic, and completely expressionless. However, the elder's sharp eyes noticed the faint sheen of sweat on the boy's forehead and the slightly pale complexion of his face—telltale signs of intense mental exhaustion.
The elder stretched his arms high over his head, letting out a loud, exaggerated yawn to cover his previous dozing.
"Well, well," the elder said, a casual, somewhat amused smile playing on his lips as he looked at the youth emerging from the shadows of the hall. "I was beginning to think you had decided to move in and build a bed out of the Huang-class scrolls, kid. It's been hours."
Yoriichi offered a polite, shallow bow. "Apologies for the delay, Elder. The choice required deep consideration."
The elder chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "It is the most important choice a Dou Zhe makes. Taking your time is a sign of wisdom, not weakness."
The elder picked up his registry brush and opened the thick leather ledger. He looked up at Yoriichi, his eyes dropping to the single, dark scroll clutched in the youth's right hand.
"So, Young Master Xiao Ning," the elder asked casually, dipping his brush into the inkwell, fully expecting to hear the name of a top-tier Fire method. "What did you finally decide, and land your eye on?"