For more than ten days, Zhang Yan busied himself traveling through the Small Cold Realm, following the diagrams Elder Yuan provided to locate each Cave Mansion, leaving not a single one unchecked. After carefully observing them and comparing his reflections with what he envisioned, he gained a faint, deeper understanding. Yet, the insights left behind in those writings were permeated with sentiments of resentment and regret between the lines. It was understandable. Those who sought closed-door cultivation in this place were driven here out of desperation. Imagine spending hundreds or even thousands of years in hard cultivation to pursue immortality, only to be obstructed by the Heavenly Dao at the final step, unable to move forward. And finally, the Primordial Spirit is unable to escape — what bitterness must lie in their hearts? But Zhang Yan was unmoved by their emotions. The path ahead was his own choice. They could have opted for an earlier soldier’s dissolution and reincarnation, yet once they decided to come here, they clearly knew they had abandoned such thoughts. Therefore, they were bound to bear the outcome, whatever it may be. Day by day, he visited cave mansions, trekking northward along the ridges. The distance from the Small Cold Realm’s entrance grew ever greater. On this particular day, he arrived at a barren ridge. Facing the whistling cold wind, his feet riding on a cloud of mist, he retrieved the "Spring Bottle" and drank a few sips of Rejuvenation Wine. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings briefly but thoroughly, and in mere moments, he found the cave mansion he was searching for. With a wave of his sleeve to clear away the eerie wind, he descended. Stepping past the entrance, he proceeded and flew close to the ground for about fifty zhang when he suddenly heard a deep voice from ahead: "Which fellow Daoist has come to this place?" Having encountered no living people for days, Zhang Yan was slightly startled at hearing a human voice. However, upon entering, he noticed that this area differed from others — there was far less dust, and the ground was relatively clean. He surmised someone might indeed reside here. Since he’d already entered, he had no intention of retreating. The voice he heard carried no annoyance or anger, but was calm and cordial. So he respectfully came forward, cupped his hands, and said, "I am Zhang Yan. May I ask which senior of the sect is cultivating here?" On the stone platform ahead sat a middle-aged Daoist who seemed to be around forty years old. A long black beard hung down to his abdomen. His facial features were refined, revealing that he was likely a handsome man in his younger years. But his aura was now diminished — his complexion gloomy and his disposition appearing frail, like one suffering from chronic illness. The man gazed at Zhang Yan’s face for a moment before expressing astonishment, saying, "I observe that fellow Daoist’s Yang Qi brims with vigor, and your eyesight is sharp with clear energy. It seems your lifespan is still long. Why would you come to this Small Cold Realm? Could it be that you’ve offended someone?" Zhang Yan shook his head and replied, "Not so. It is due to the sect-wide competition that I harbor certain doubts regarding cultivation techniques. Guided by the elders, I came here to study the insights and understandings left by predecessors, in hopes of expanding my knowledge. Alas, upon arriving, I was so absorbed in exploring the mysteries that I unintentionally disrupted your peaceful retreat." Follow current novᴇls on 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾·𝗇𝖾𝗍 The middle-aged Daoist chuckled and waved his hand, saying, "No matter. This place is already the deepest part of the Small Cold Realm. On your journey here, you must have encountered many seniors’ remnants. Had you come ten days later, you might have found me in the same state as those others." Zhang Yan glanced at the man intently, finding in his words a sense of indifference toward matters of life and death. This stirred a faintly felt admiration within him. The middle-aged Daoist pointed toward a cave wall on the western side and said, "The writings carved by predecessors are on that wall. Go ahead and examine them yourself." Walking a few steps forward, Zhang Yan swept his gaze across the wall. Skipping over numerous unrelated cultivation techniques, his attention finally fixed on the "Nine-Numbered Taishi Lingbao Xuanming Scripture." With a flick of his hand, he scattered the Bright Pearl’s light, sat cross-legged beneath the cave wall, and began studying it closely in the glow. The middle-aged Daoist glanced over and asked, "Have you cultivated the Nine Number True Scripture?" Zhang Yan’s expression shifted, and he stood up, saying, "Indeed. Could it be that senior has some guidance to offer?" The sincerity in his inquiry was evident. Although reading the predecessors’ insights had proved immensely rewarding, their limited wording or his own incomplete comprehension left certain finer points vague and unclear, leaving an unresolved feeling. It would take further exploration to decipher these mysteries. But if someone could provide him with clarity, then his trip here would truly be worthwhile. The middle-aged Daoist, however, shook his head with a bitter smile and said, "This cultivation technique is profoundly esoteric and almost unfathomable. I myself do not understand it, nor have I heard of anyone successfully cultivating it. Back in the day, I had a senior brother who was ambitious and arrogant, but after cultivating it for a hundred years, he achieved nothing. He wasted his innate talent and brilliance completely. If you turn back now, it may not be too late."