Chapter Forty-One: The Dragon Soul's Blood Transformation

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The fat old man’s white beard trembled with anger, and his rosy, plump face was so flushed it seemed blood might well burst from it. After Qin Feng set him down, the old man hurriedly straightened out his disheveled imperial robe—a clear sign of his prideful, peculiar temperament. Yet, when he glanced at the token Qin Feng handed him, he froze for a long moment and, surprisingly, calmed down.

He shot Qin Feng a strange look, then immediately adopted the kindly demeanor of an elder, his tone gentle as he asked, “How did that boy Tianshu’s elder token end up in your hands?”

“What thick skin!” Qin Feng grumbled inwardly.

It never pays to offend a smiling man, especially since Qin Feng still needed to borrow books. Though he felt a bit uncomfortable, he replied, “My uncle gave it to me. I’m here to read for a while.”

He kept it concise, but his meaning was clear: Qin Tianshu sent me to read books. Do as you see fit.

Fortunately, the old man was sensible enough. He asked no more, simply tossed the token back to Qin Feng. The token was genuine, and judging by Qin Feng’s level, it would be impossible for him to steal Tianshu’s elder token. It was most likely granted voluntarily—a logical deduction.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder: That boy Tianshu spent all his days cultivating—when did he suddenly acquire a “nephew”? This piqued the old man’s curiosity, but he didn’t press further. Settling himself, he explained to Qin Feng, “Ahem, within the Divine Dragon Pavilion, everything below the third floor is under my jurisdiction. On this first floor, about half the ancient texts introduce various cultivation methods and insights—tens of thousands of volumes, the most popular with disciples of Tianfeng City. Another ten thousand or so focus on practical skills, like artifact forging, talisman crafting, alchemy, and so on. But these aren’t our clan’s strengths, so only the more representative works are included—they aren’t particularly advanced.”

He paused for a sip of tea before continuing, “The largest section is miscellaneous books—hundreds of thousands in number—covering the geography and customs of the Qingxuan cultivation world, ancient sects, exotic flora and fauna, rare beasts, cultivation legends, and so on. These books are many and varied, impossible to strictly categorize, so they’re shelved rather haphazardly. Though entertaining, you’d best not spend too much time on them. I’ve grouped all types by category on the shelves, labeled for your convenience. As for the second and third floors, they’re mostly cultivation methods, but only those at the Human Gang stage or above may access them, as they’re intended for disciples who’ve broken through to that level. You have an elder token, so you’re permitted, but judging by your current state, you won’t need them yet. For borrowing, you may read here or transcribe content onto a jade slip to take away—the fees differ. For ordinary disciples, reading here is free, but copying onto a jade slip costs ten low-grade mystic stones per book.”

Having finished in one breath, the fat-faced elder picked up his teapot again, putting the spout to his lips and gulping noisily, ignoring Qin Feng thereafter.

“Strange old man,” Qin Feng muttered, shrugging as he turned toward the bookshelves.

There were many shelves—so many that, though sorted by category, it still felt overwhelming. So Qin Feng simply wandered the first floor of the Divine Dragon Pavilion at random.

After a circuit, he noticed a few scattered readers within, most clustered around the cultivation methods and insights section, each absorbed in their book, paying not the slightest attention to others. The atmosphere was exceedingly quiet.

It made sense: disciples at the Mortal Gang stage spent nearly every day cultivating, rarely having time for reading unless exceptionally talented. For most, their days were consumed by the tedium of cultivation—after all, strength was everything. Advancement to the Human Gang realm was more important than anything.

Qin Feng passed through the methods section and stopped before shelves labeled exotic flora and fauna, rare beasts, cultivation legends, and mysterious realms.

A glance revealed the shelves were thick with dust, proof these works were rather esoteric—so neglected even the fat old man couldn’t be bothered to clean them. Yet these ancient texts were plentiful, filling hundreds of shelves, each holding roughly a thousand books.

To put it plainly, these books chronicled the oddities and mysteries of the cultivation world. Besides legends, they also discussed the world’s geography, flora, fauna, wilderness, and ancient sects. But cultivators, ever eager to advance, rarely cared for such miscellaneous knowledge.

Qin Feng, however, felt differently.

Having traveled widely with his father, his horizons were broader, making him aware of just how important the knowledge in these books could be—especially the essential facts of the cultivation world.

Compared to this, the Dragon Martial Pavilion in Luoyang Town was trash.

This place was a veritable treasure trove!

These books, Qin Feng resolved to read—but one cannot devour a feast in a single bite; everything must come step by step.

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In truth, Qin Feng had two goals in coming to the Divine Dragon Pavilion. First, to seek information regarding his own mutated soul-bloodline—and, if possible, clues about his strange illness. Just because the Dragon Martial Pavilion in Luoyang Town lacked such records didn’t mean nothing could be found here. He knew better than anyone that his mysterious ailment was the root of all his troubles—even his soul-bloodline’s mutation was its consequence.

His second purpose was to select a primary cultivation method.

Though his awakened soul was a dead soul, it was still a soul. Slow as it was, hope remained. In this life, as in the last, Qin Feng had never retreated before adversity!

He had tested it—he could still absorb mystic energy!

Though, due to the poor quality of his dead serpent soul, the process was agonizingly slow, as long as cultivation was possible, he would never give up.

No matter how difficult, Qin Feng never abandoned himself!

Yet a critical problem loomed: the Azure Dragon Gang Cultivation Art was only suitable for the Mortal Gang stage. Beyond that, at the Human Gang realm, it was no longer appropriate as a core method. He would need to choose a new foundational technique for lifelong cultivation.

Such a choice was momentous—often determining one’s future success.

Though the Qin clan of Luoyang Town possessed many methods, those of Earth and Heaven rank were almost nonexistent, and even incomplete. Ultimately, one had to come to Tianfeng City to obtain a proper core technique—one of the clan elders’ wise arrangements. Qin Feng had no wish to beg or accept charity, so he exchanged the Desolate Blood Leech for this opportunity. Some things must be planned in advance.

Since he was to choose, he’d choose the best!

Qin Tianshu was no fool; he had seen through Qin Feng’s true purpose. Judging by his final attitude, he rather admired Qin Feng for it.

A young man can lose everything—except his integrity!

To exchange the Desolate Blood Leech for a top-tier cultivation method was, in Tianshu’s eyes, a sign of resolve. In Qin Feng’s view, it was simply worth it.

The higher-level methods awaited on the second and third floors—no rush for now.

Everything would start here…

Resolved, Qin Feng returned to the section on cultivation insights. After a long search in one corner, he finally found a scant few dozen books on mutated soul-bloodlines.

He was surprised that so few existed.

Pulling out the thickest, he wiped away the heavy dust. It was an ancient tome called "Dragon Soul Blood Mutation." After a quick perusal, he understood why so few existed.

Throughout the Qin clan’s history, mutated soul-bloodlines had been exceedingly rare—almost pitifully so. And most mutations produced useless souls, unfit for cultivation, leaving little record of them.

Yet even these few books Qin Feng treated as treasures, poring over every word, searching meticulously for any phrase that might relate to his own condition.

He became utterly engrossed, losing all sense of time and fatigue.

Thus, days slipped by amidst the written word…

Three days later, in a quiet corner of the Divine Dragon Pavilion, Qin Feng straightened up, stretched, and finally lifted his eyes from the last book.

He had read every one of those few dozen books, not missing a single word.

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Though the books were few, Qin Feng gained much—especially from "Dragon Soul Blood Mutation," written by a Qin clan forebear named Qin Aotian, which contained the most detailed information.

The problem remained unsolved, but Qin Feng was no longer groping in the dark.

First, he could confirm that his soul-bloodline was indeed mutated!

Though several types of mutations were recorded in the books, none matched Qin Feng’s case. Most mutated soul-bloodlines were useless, but some were exceptional—such as a Qin clan disciple who, twelve hundred years ago, awakened a two-headed yellow-grade dragon soul, whose power was comparable to a mystic-grade soul. In short, mutations could be good or bad; the odds of the latter were much higher, and all depended on luck.

However—

Qin Feng had checked every record, and in all descriptions of mutated dragon souls, one trait was constant: throughout the Qin clan’s long history, those with the Azure Dragon bloodline—mutated or not—all possessed blue soul-bloodlines, whether high-grade dragon souls or low-grade flood dragon or serpent souls. Other colors were rare but not unheard of. Yet never, until Qin Feng, had a black soul-bloodline appeared.

The first in history!

It seemed he truly was a rarity.

So this is what they mean by “unprecedented and unrepeatable.”

He sighed and shook his head helplessly, a vague unease gnawing at him.

Black signified a demonic nature.

At present, his mutated soul-bloodline seemed to be developing in an unfavorable direction—but this could not be judged absolutely. The powers of normal bloodlines were well known, already explored. Mutated bloodlines, on the other hand, could only be slowly discovered through long experience.

It was just that the odds were slim.

Closing the books and returning them to their place, Qin Feng looked around with a sense of awe.

Three days had yielded only a handful of books, but the endless shelves of the Divine Dragon Pavilion stretched on forever—who knew when he’d finish them all?

Most pressing of all—Qin Feng was hungry…

Though his cultivation allowed him to go days without food, reading on an empty stomach dulled his mind.

Left with no choice, he reluctantly left the shelves and made his way to the main entrance.

As he passed the borrowing desk, the fat old man glanced up, then looked toward the spot where Qin Feng had been. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

Qin Feng didn’t notice, leaving the pavilion without a backward glance.

But the old man suddenly rose, walked to where Qin Feng had stood, and after searching a while, his gaze fell upon the spotless copy of "Dragon Soul Blood Mutation" that Qin Feng had cleaned. His eyes glimmered, and tears traced silent tracks down his wrinkled cheeks…