Chapter Fifty-Two: A Gift of Books

Sheng spoke, “There is nothing contradictory about it. You simply believe that the gap between myself and the Will of the World is so vast that the Will cannot possibly locate me.”

“It’s not strange for you to think so. The root of it lies in the difference between the dimensions from which we perceive things. Once you reach a certain realm, you will naturally understand what I mean.”

“Hm, I truly can’t comprehend it,” Wang Li nodded, then asked, “But I have another question.”

“What is it?”

“Since the Will of the World cannot calculate me now, why did it still involve me in the Chosen Trials?”

This was a question Wang Li had long harbored, and now he finally seized the chance to ask.

“So that’s what it is. I thought you wouldn’t ask such a simple question,” Sheng replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Sheng answered. “All those books you read, have you really absorbed nothing? Don’t you even know that objective existence can only be erased physically?”

“That… I truly don’t understand…” Wang Li was left rather bewildered by Sheng’s words.

“Never mind. I have a few books you should read. Stop wasting your time on those insipid cultivation manuals. If you don’t even grasp basic common sense, what’s the point of cultivating?” Sheng did not explain further; instead, he directly transmitted the contents of over a hundred different books into Wang Li’s sea of consciousness.

“What are these things? Their titles are so strange, and the authors’ names are even stranger,” Wang Li glanced at the list of books and felt all the more confused.

Sheng said, “Don’t underestimate these books, boy. Mastering the knowledge within them is worth more than ten thousand years of bitter cultivation.”

Wang Li leafed through a book titled “The Strategies of Ghost Valley,” finding its pages filled with arguments of vertical and horizontal alliances, all about the arts of governance and handling affairs. He then opened another called “The Art of War.” If the former was about schemes for victory, the latter was purely a manual of military strategy.

Some of these books seemed fairly normal—at least Wang Li could understand them. Titles such as “Logic,” “Game Theory,” and “Fundamentals of Philosophy” made some sense to him. But those like “Fundamental Physics,” “Basic Electricity,” “Analysis of Human Behavior,” and “Practical Chemistry” left him utterly baffled.

There were even a few whose contents seemed to directly contradict the common sense of the cultivation world—like “Evolution and Ethics,” “Introduction to Cosmology,” and “Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy.” To Wang Li, it all appeared to be nothing more than the product of the authors’ imagination.

Sheng laughed, “Feeling lost? I was just the same when I first encountered these books, especially the theoretical ones. Being utterly confused is the norm, and having nowhere to verify your half-baked understanding is even more commonplace.

After I began cultivating, I tried to interpret their knowledge from the perspective of a cultivator. It took me two entire cycles of the Yuanhui to progress from deeming them useless to realizing their value was beyond measure. Even after I became a Primordial Saint, there was still much I hadn’t figured out.

People say saints are omniscient and omnipotent, but saints are still human. How can any one person comprehend all the knowledge humanity has accumulated over countless ages?”

Wang Li asked, “Is the knowledge in these books truly beneficial to cultivation?”

“Not merely beneficial—it overturns a cultivator’s entire understanding of the world. It can help you solve many problems that cultivation alone cannot.” Sheng smiled. “The authors of these works were the brightest minds of humanity. Perhaps they knew nothing of cultivation, but their pursuit of the world’s essence was no different from a cultivator’s quest for higher realms. Their comprehension of the world was profound—some even approached the level of understanding the chains of universal principles. In terms of grasping the underlying nature and operation of reality, they may well surpass so-called saints.”

“There is no other reason for giving you these books, except to show you the power of mortals. In just two or three centuries, they created weapons capable of annihilating true immortals. Give them a few thousand or ten thousand more years, and perhaps they’ll be storming the heavens themselves.

So, not only should you avoid reckless actions in the cultivation world, you’d best not go stirring up trouble in the mortal world either—there’s no telling if a mortal might kill you with ease.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll listen to your advice, is that good enough?” Wang Li admitted defeat. Sheng, no matter what he did or said, always managed to circle back to the philosophy of caution. Wang Li could not help but yield.

“That’s more like it. Now the excitement is over, it’s time for you to train. That chubby fellow has decent skills and strange abilities—you can use him as a template to hone your own.”

Sheng offered his suggestion, “For now, it’s best if you don’t show yourself again. The protagonist’s aura has awakened in that fat boy, and the crisis in Vengeance City is nearly resolved. Focus on your cultivation and enhancing your combat power, lest that ominous premonition finally comes true and you end up dead because of it.”

Wang Li checked in on the badly injured Ling Xiao, gave him a healing elixir, and then returned to his own tent to seclude himself for training. He told his disciples that the city’s affairs were settled, and not to disturb him unless necessary.

Those left behind in Vengeance City were puzzled that Wang Li would choose this moment to seclude himself, but no one questioned him. They were more concerned with the progress of the campaign to clear the packs of Direhowlers.

Ling Xiao’s severe injury marked an inauspicious beginning, and a faint unease pervaded Vengeance City. Everyone—except for Wang Li, who was in seclusion, and Jiang Yue, who was still wrestling with her hammer—turned their attention to the ruins of the city.

In the ambush circle east of the city, Lin Zuo and Lin You hid underground using earth-shifting arts, while Luo Heng concealed himself in the hollow of a dead tree. Feng Qing and Tong Cheng, Jindan-level experts from Zhenxian City, lay hidden among the rubble of a collapsed stone house. The five of them, sensing that the Vengeance Squad had been attacked, grew tense.

“One aura equivalent to the Golden Core stage has vanished. What happened?” Lin You’s perception was keen; the moment the fifth-rank Direhowler leader was struck down, he noticed and sent a message to the others.

Luo Heng replied, “A fifth-rank Direhowler leader advanced during its duel with Ling Xiao and was struck dead by a heavenly tribulation.”

Luo Heng wasn’t far from the battlefield and, peering through a crack in the dead wood, had witnessed the entire clash. He had considered intervening to save Ling Xiao, but before he could act, the Direhowler leader was killed by lightning, and Ling Xiao was rescued by his companions, so he did not reveal his presence.

“Advanced and was struck by a tribulation during the battle…”

The others mentally pictured the scene and nearly burst out laughing. How unlucky could that Direhowler leader be?

But what concerned the Lin brothers most was Ling Xiao’s condition. On learning that Ling Xiao had been rescued by his comrades, they finally relaxed.

Yet before they could breathe easy, a voice transmission came from Hongluan Peak in the sky: “Seniors, the big ones are coming—not one sixth-rank, but two, plus a fifth-rank. We can’t hold them off—hurry and help us!”

With a thunderous rumble, the group wasted no time. They burst from their hiding places and charged toward the direction of Hongluan Peak’s squad.