Chapter Sixteen: The Entrance to the Third Layer

With a faint smile, Ye Cheng walked slowly to the recess that had left everyone else helpless. There, an ancient tome bound with red threads lay quietly. Its cover was shrouded in dust, the lettering blurred, suggesting the book had not been opened in many years.

He gazed at the blue light screen covering the recess. A gentle radiance swirled and flickered; Ye Cheng narrowed his eyes, keenly sensing the formidable defense contained within the shimmering veil.

Fortunately, though such protection might be insurmountable for others, for Ye Cheng now, it posed little challenge.

He closed his eyes slightly, feet spreading apart, hands slowly clenching. The energy in his body began to move along a particular meridian route, gradually accelerating.

Ye Ming and the others stepped back, clearing enough space for Ye Cheng to employ his martial skills. Their eyes were fixed on him, every movement he made tugging at their emotions.

In their watchful gaze, Ye Cheng's tightly shut eyes suddenly opened wide, and two streams of blood energy seemed almost tangible, ready to burst forth from his gaze.

His foot stamped heavily on the floor, the deep sound echoing as he leapt into the air. His figure twisted midair in a swift one-hundred-eighty-degree arc, and borrowing the force of his descent and spin, his right fist, slicing through the air with a sharp sound, crashed down upon the blue light screen.

A resounding bang erupted as Ye Cheng's fist struck the blue veil. Ripples spread out from the point of impact, surging like waves across the screen. But it remained unbroken.

Seeing this, Ye Ming's hopeful eyes flickered with disappointment, while Ye Wei, observing from the crowd, showed a hint of satisfaction; Ye Cheng's failure seemed to please him.

At the moment of collision, Ye Cheng's pupils contracted. He could feel the power of his attack being dispersed throughout the screen, much like the principle of an eggshell—minimizing the impact.

“An astonishing defense, but this attack is not yet finished,” Ye Cheng murmured, noticing the disappointment in others' eyes, a mysterious curve lifting his lips.

“Thunder Rush!” The deep call echoed in Ye Cheng's mind. His blood energy surged, and as his arm quivered in an uncanny motion, a stream of blood energy transformed into internal force and shot directly through his fist into the screen.

“Break for me.” With Ye Cheng's cold shout, Ye Wei's expression froze. The blue veil, unable to withstand this strike, shattered like glass under the amazed eyes of all.

Ye Cheng withdrew his fist, twisting his arm to ease the ache from the shock. He exhaled slowly, then stepped to the recess and carefully retrieved the ancient tome. Without a glance at it, he tossed it to Ye Ming, who stood behind him amidst the admiring stares.

The tome traced an arc through the air, landing perfectly in Ye Ming's hands. Feeling the martial skill in his grasp, Ye Ming grinned and quickly tucked it into his robe, as if any slower and someone might snatch it from him.

With the martial skill secured, the crowd gradually dispersed. None could afford to waste time now; they hurried off to find techniques suitable for their own cultivation.

“That move was impressive just now!” Ye Ming laughed, clapping Ye Cheng on the shoulder, his face bright with joy. Remembering Ye Cheng's recent display, he speculated, “Wasn't that the same move you used to defeat Ye Wei last time?”

Ye Cheng nodded slightly, not denying it. “Thunder Rush” was indeed his most reliable technique. Seeing the envy on Ye Ming's face, Ye Cheng guessed his thoughts and patted the spot where the ancient tome rested. “Why envy? The martial skill you just got is nearly as powerful as what I used earlier.”

Ye Ming was taken aback; he had only guessed that this high-level skill was good, but hadn't expected it to rival Ye Cheng's earlier display. Hearing Ye Cheng's affirmation, his face lit up with delight.

“Let's go. You've found your martial skill, but I haven't yet.” With a lift of his chin, Ye Cheng took the lead deeper inside.

Ye Ming paused, grateful, and cast a look at Ye Cheng’s receding figure before following.

They continued along the passage, occasionally hearing cheers from youths breaking through light barriers. Ye Cheng smiled, leading Ye Ming onward.

After half an hour of examining martial skill introductions along the way, the two had traversed all the corridors on the second floor, yet nothing had caught Ye Cheng's interest. He shook his head, reluctant to leave empty-handed.

“Hmm? What's this?!”

Just as he prepared to turn back and randomly select a martial skill, a glint in the corner of his eye caught a crack on the nearby stone wall. He paused, surprised.

Hearing Ye Cheng’s curious exclamation, Ye Ming stopped as well, approaching with a touch of suspicion.

The crack in the wall formed a doorway-sized rectangle, clearly marking a stone door. Ye Cheng pushed it, and with a groan, a staircase of layered blue stones revealed itself.

“This is the third floor of the Hall of Scriptures.” Both paused, staring at the stone steps. They knew well: only family elders set foot on the third floor, where the finest martial skills—the most elite techniques—were stored.

Ye Ming wet his dry lips, his face lighting up with joy as he hurried forward. But as he crossed the threshold, a flash of red light shot out, and his body was instantly flung aside.

Seeing Ye Ming’s awkwardly ejected form, Ye Cheng quickly caught his arm and steadied him with a hand on his back.

“As expected, it’s not so simple,” Ye Cheng released Ye Ming, his eyes narrowing in contemplation as he recalled the moment the red light appeared.

Ye Ming looked at the stone door with a strange expression, then at Ye Cheng, thinking of his own hasty misfortune, and sighed, “All because of acting impulsively.”

Ye Cheng glanced at him wordlessly, stepped forward, and pressed his palm to the stone door. As his slender fingers crossed the threshold, red light flashed again, forming a barrier that blocked Ye Cheng’s hand from advancing.

Touching the red barrier, Ye Cheng frowned, searching around the door, but found nothing unusual. As he withdrew his hand, the barrier vanished, as if it had never appeared.

“Who would have thought there’d be a formation in this small place?”

Just as Ye Cheng pondered, a familiar, aged voice sounded in his mind. With the voice’s arrival, his face broke into an expression of wild delight.