480: Chapter 480 They're in Action

When returning to the side hall, several Elders were still there.

Seeing the two walking in side by side, Yun Lingge's gaze lingered on her daughter for a moment.

She seemed to want to see something from that face that was forever expressionless.

But there was nothing.

Yun Qingyao remained the same, her white clothes as pure as snow, her expression indifferent.

She returned to her seat and sat down as if nothing had happened.

Yun Lingge withdrew her gaze and looked at Qin Wangchuan.

"How was the walk?"

"Quite good." Qin Wangchuan took his seat. "The Yun Family is more interesting than I imagined."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he changed the subject and got straight to the point.

"I have another request for this visit to the Yun Family."

Qin Wangchuan informed them of his idea for forging an artifact.

After hearing this, the Elders' expressions varied.

Someone teased, "If Divine Son Qin wants something, plenty of people would scramble to give it to him. Why do you need to forge it yourself?"

Qin Wangchuan nodded and said firmly, "It must be me."

As soon as those four words were spoken, the others stopped smiling and exchanged looks.

Truth be told, this boy really does have the Yun Family Bloodline in him.

He is exactly like his mother.

Back then, when Yun Qiuying wanted to do something, she had this exact same look.

Beyond doubt—it must be me.

"Alright then."

The Wanjuan Pavilion stood deep within the Yun Family.

A six-story ancient building.

It looked unremarkable on the outside, even a bit dilapidated.

But as one approached, one could feel the aura of time washing over them—not decay, but a deep accumulation.

Yun Zexuan walked by his side and reminded him, "Below the third floor are all common forging methods; try to go higher."

Knowing he wanted to help, Qin Wangchuan instead thought of starting from the first floor.

After offering his thanks, he stepped into the building.

Yun Zexuan stood at the entrance and smiled with a complex expression.

"It is I who should thank you."

Behind him, the building's doors slowly closed.

It was very quiet inside.

Light filtered through the high windows, falling onto the layers of bookshelves.

A figure was already waiting there.

It was an old man with hair and beard as white as snow, yet his back was held perfectly straight.

Seeing Qin Wangchuan enter, he bowed slightly.

"Divine Son Qin."

"This old man is the person in charge here. I heard the Divine Son is looking for a forging method."

As he spoke, he made a gesture of invitation and led the way.

"The first floor here is broad and inclusive, but they are all common forging methods used by the clan's Disciples for practice."

"The forging methods on the second and third floors are relatively rare; some are manuscripts from past sages."

"The fourth floor is the limit most people can reach, containing some ancient texts, including no shortage of Heaven-Defying items."

At this point, he paused slightly and looked back at Qin Wangchuan.

"The Elders instructed that you may go directly to the sixth floor."

"That is the highest floor, housing all the top-tier forging techniques accumulated by the Yun Family over ten thousand years."

"So, which floor would you like to start from?"

Qin Wangchuan did not hesitate.

"First floor."

The old man was stunned.

"First floor?"

He was somewhat confused but still nodded slightly and continued to lead the way.

"This way, please."

Soon, they arrived at the entrance to the library.

Qin Wangchuan stepped inside.

The old man stood at the door, watching the back of the figure walking deep into the bookshelves, hesitating whether to speak.

There were many books in the library.

One might not even finish reading just this first floor in several months.

Furthermore, the records on the first floor were all common goods, meant for the clan's Disciples to practice with.

He didn't believe there would be anything Qin Wangchuan wanted in here.

Qin Wangchuan didn't think so either.

But what if he missed something?

'The wheel of fate... the forging method should be very special, perhaps even a combination of multiple forging methods...'

Qin Wangchuan picked up a forging method and thought, when his peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of a figure.

He turned his head sharply.

At the end of the bookshelf stood a person.

No.

It was an afterimage.

The figure was blurred, as if it could be blown away by the wind at any moment.

But that face—

Qin Wangchuan's pupils constricted.

It was himself.

Another self.

He just didn't know which Dao it was.

The afterimage didn't look at him; it just pulled a forging method from the shelf on its own, flipped through it, looked at it for a few moments, and put it back.

Then it pulled out the next one.

It continued in this manner.

The movements were mechanical, yet carried an almost obsessive seriousness.

Soon, the bookshelves on the first floor had been flipped through once.

The afterimage stepped forward and walked up to the second floor.

When it reached the stairs, it suddenly looked back and shook its head in Qin Wangchuan's direction.

Its lips moved slightly.

Qin Wangchuan understood.

Not here.

He looked down at the technique he had just picked up, didn't hesitate anymore, put it directly back on the shelf, and followed.

The old man at the door was stunned.

"Divine Son, this...?"

He couldn't see the afterimage, so naturally, he couldn't understand why Qin Wangchuan suddenly wanted to leave.

Qin Wangchuan didn't explain.

"Let's go upstairs."

Second floor.

The afterimage had already looked through half.

He flipped through them very quickly, yet it strangely felt like he had seriously read every single book.

Third floor.

Fourth floor.

Fifth floor.

The afterimage's speed remained constant.

Qin Wangchuan followed behind, watching that figure weave through the rows of bookshelves, a feeling he couldn't describe suddenly welling up in his heart.

How long had that version of himself been here?

He didn't know.

But he knew the other party was helping him.

Finally.

In a corner of the fifth floor.

The afterimage reached out and pulled a forging method from the shelf.

A moment later, he turned around and handed the forging method to Qin Wangchuan.

Qin Wangchuan subconsciously reached out to take it—

His fingertips passed through the phantom.

The afterimage dissipated like smoke and mist, as if it had never existed.

Qin Wangchuan's hand hung in mid-air, pausing for a moment.

He withdrew his hand, turned to that bookshelf, and pulled out the book from the spot where the afterimage had been standing.

"Nine Revolutions God-Forging Art."

He flipped to the first page.

In a daze, it seemed as if a heavy hammer had descended from the heavens!

Boom—

Sparks flew everywhere!

Qin Wangchuan subconsciously closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the general outline of the Cultivation Technique had already appeared on that page.

"Heaven and earth as the furnace, creation as the work."

"All things as charcoal, my will as steel."

"Nine revolutions to form the vessel, one revolution for each layer."

"With nine revolutions to Perfection, forge the gods and be called a grandmaster."

He read it in a low voice and closed the book.

Forging gods.

What bold words.

But just looking at the general outline, he knew this technique was indeed powerful.

He looked up, wanting to find that afterimage.

It was gone!

Qin Wangchuan's gaze swept around, and suddenly having a feeling, he walked directly toward the sixth floor.

"Divine Son, wait, some bookshelves on the sixth floor have Restrictions..."

Seeing this, the old man hurriedly caught up.

Once upstairs, his eyes searching, he indeed found the afterimage in front of a bookshelf.

The afterimage was staring at a forging method.

"Destiny Ring"

He raised his hand, following the afterimage's movements.

He broke the Restriction with incredibly precise technique.

The old man stood frozen in place, his eyes wide.

Qin Wangchuan ignored his shock and reached out to take that forging method.

He flipped to the first page.

There were no words.

Only a circle.

It was golden, almost perfectly round, as if drawn with a compass, yet also like someone had sketched it in one stroke without a single pause from beginning to end.

Qin Wangchuan stared at that circle.

The more he stared, the more he felt something was wrong.

That circle... seemed to be moving.

Not the kind of movement where it spins on the paper, but... sinking deeper.

As if beneath the paper, a bottomless abyss was hidden.