Heaven’s Library
I've never believed in fate.
Or rather, I could not.
Surrounded by the musty scent of old parchment and faint aroma of aged wood, a frail-looking young man with sunken eyes and deep dark circles was staring at a towering shelf filled with ancient books.
His gaze lay on a particular book in front of him, and he continued to stare at it without taking it out.
Miser is what I'd call myself. If there's anyone in the cosmos who's allowed to use this word, it should be me.
The young man's eyelids drooped slightly.
From having my mother, my sisters, and my companions killed, to being poisoned, assaulted, and turned into a eunuch… I've come a long way.
The young man placed his hand on the shelf and breathed heavily. Memories of the past, ones he wanted to forget, flashed in front of his eyes.
My misfortune was worse than Jinxes. The Will at least pitied them and granted them a fair few benefits, but for me… there was only more misfortune waiting to befall.
Whenever I tried to cling onto some hope, thinking that my life would turn for better, fate would kick me into a pit of no return, shattering me.
Yet…
I was being given hope again.
Thinking so, the young man pulled out what seemed to be an ordinary book from the shelf in front of him.
He held it in his hands and had a proper look at it.
The skin was made out of worn-out ivory sheepskin cover. Etched on it was a rather interesting illustration—two mountain peaks with a river coming out of it, surrounded by one tree, a sun, few 'v' shaped things near the mountains which seemed to be birds, and a hut, as well as a few green strands near it, depicting grass.Time
This looks like something drawn by a toddler. As much as I want to ignore this…
[A Guide To Time Travel]
(Illustrated Edition)
The title is really too eye-catching. If it weren't for it, I would've never paid any attention to this book. However…
The young man flipped the pages of the book.
The pages inside had faint black outlines, which seemed to be the tracing of the landscape on the cover. There were also color markings present as if it wasn't obvious that a river should be colored blue.
This is a drawing book. A children's drawing book. How in the world did a children's drawing book end up in this place?
The young man walked away from the shelf. He headed toward the ledge of the library floor and looked below him. There was a thick mist of pink, but it was see through on his side, allowing him to have a look at the abyss-like bottom.
The young man then looked up.
A grand library spiraled its way toward the starry cosmos, giving an ethereal view of the colorful nebulae and galaxies painted on the dark canvas of space, its end unknown.
The Heaven's Library is the most sacred sanctum of knowledge in the Nine Realms. For such a place to have such a measly drawing book, above the degradation miasma too, is really sketchy.
Degradation miasma was a common alternative terminology for the Blossoming Pestilence Miasma for the sake of convenience. As its name suggested, its role was to protect the upper portion of the library from trespassers and also act as a veil. Anyone who dared to barge would have their Rank and lifespan depleted, resulting in their death.
Sigh… If my life was not coming to an end…
The young man's eyelids drooped slightly as he visibly sighed. He felt his thin legs tremble and sighed again.
I can't climb the library's stairs or stand for prolonged periods. My body's turned so weak. At best, I have a few weeks to live. My soul's almost thinned out… so reincarnation is not possible either.
I guess… I should check this out since there's nothing better to do.
The young man sat down cross-legged and placed the children's drawing book on his lap. He looked at it again, its title capturing his attention.
[A Guide To Time Travel]
(Illustrated Edition)
Fate sure knows how to play with me in my lowest times. My life's coming to an end, no potions work anymore. Even Lanlan has tried her best to help, and is still trying, but there's no results. The resources are just being wasted.
By now, I've given up on trying to save myself completely. I mean, there's nothing much I can do in the first place. I can barely move around and even come to this place. Last time I tripped here due to my legs giving up and I found this book. It seems too much of a coincidence, but I can feel it that it's not.
Or rather, I want it to not be a coincidence.
The young man, who didn't seem a day older than eighteen, had his lips quiver as he thought.
I don't want to die. Even though I seem like I'm fine with it, I really do not want to.
My whole life has been a misery with there not being a single day of happiness. It's like I've always lived in darkness and never seen or felt the warmth of the sun.
Instead of running through a blooming sunflower field, I've been running in the dark, between the gloomy presence of the blood red chrysanthemum.
I want to see what a happy day looks like. I want to see how my life would be if my loved ones were around. I want to sit down by a waterfall, dip my legs in the cold water, and have a cola.
Even if it's a dream…
The young man's eyes turned watery, a drop of tear threatening to leak out. His throat felt heavy and even gulping his own saliva pained him.
He wiped his eyes and continued to stare at the book again.
Even if it's a dream, I'll be really happy to see how my life without misery would look like.
I really don't want to die, and this book… it's evoking a sense of hope within me again.
I don't want to hope. I don't want to be shattered again. I'm not strong enough to handle it anymore. I'm tired. I'm weak. And at the last lap of my life, I don't want to have another regret and be completely broken when I'm dying.
Moments passed by and the young man stayed unmoving.
The tears on his face dried up, forming trails, and his eyelids felt heavy, exhaustion starting to take over him.
Taking a deep breath, the young man's tired eyes showed some signs of rejuvenation.
It's okay. I've decided. I'll pin no hopes on this book, I'll try to, and start coloring it as it's instructing.
It says a Guide To Time Travel, even illustrated edition, but neither a manual nor a picture is available. Well, it is surely helping in lowering my hopes, so there's that.
The young man put the book down from his lap and opened the first page that had to be colored.
He looked at the metallic ring on his right index finger and thought, I bought the colors today, just in case. Who would've thought that I would come to a decision so soon. Well, it's been three weeks since I've been here everyday and staring at it. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Anyway, I should finish it before I accidentally fall asleep or become unconscious.
Though, tampering with anything here is an offense and could result in severe consequences. However, with how useless this book appears, I should be fine.
Tampering anything placed within the library was indeed a punishable offense. It could even result in true death. But the young man was somewhat exempted from this rule, so it wouldn't pose a problem if he started coloring.
The young man sent out a strand of his Spiritual Essence into the ring with a grunt, and had a metallic rectangular box appear out of it.
It hurts to even use my own Spiritual Essence. Curses.
Ignoring the pain, he opened the metallic box, and contained within this box was a little paintbrush and seven small bottles of oil colors made from flower extracts.
Weeks of staring at the book was the reason he knew he only needed these seven colors, which were nothing but ROYGBIV, a common terminology used to describe the colors of a rainbow.
Dipping the brush into the paint, the brown oil color rushed between the bristles and clung to it due to the adhesive force. High viscosity provided a cohesive layer, and as the young man took the brush out, surface tension did its magic by providing a film of paint around the bristles, not letting a single drop leak.
Such a simple action, yet it contains such profound depth. No magic or law attainment is involved, and it's a beautiful display of nature's work.
The young man stared at the brush with bright eyes, despite his dull face.
I guess the looming death makes you let go of everything that's keeping you occupied. It makes you feel lighter, and lets you appreciate every little detail of life like this one. Nature, the heavenly laws… they're all truly amazing. If I ever get a chance, I would definitely look through the Human, Earth, and Heavenly Paths.
The young man remained lost in thought as he stared at the brush. Eventually, the surface tension was disrupted by the gravitational pull acting on the brown oil paint. With a drip, it broke through and fell to the ground, breaking his trance.
Welp… there goes nothing…
He dipped the brush again into the paint and didn't stare at it this time. His focus now lay in coloring the two mountains on the first page of the book where it was written 'brown'.
It took him a few minutes to color them both, and once done, the brush was cleared off the paint with the help of his Spiritual Essence. He then dipped it in blue oil paint and colored the river emerging from the mountain peaks that had the word 'blue' written on it.
It really is a children's book, given how useless those color texts are. As if I can't see the front page and copy the colors or simply use my imagination.
There was some frustration in regards to coloring, but he continued on without stopping. If something wrong was to happen, it should've happened by now. Since there was nothing, he was free to tamper with it further.
Moments passed by. Half the book was finished being colored. It was quite the progress.
The young man felt really tired at this point and wanted to take a nap, but rejected the thought as sleeping in the library wasn't allowed. He would be teleported outside and the book would close itself and return to the shelf. He did not wish for such a thing to happen.
Dip. Color. Clean. Dip.
Dip. Color. Clean. Dip.
Dip. Color. Clean. Dip.
The young man repeated the monotonous process with his movements appearing like a lifeless golem.
While he was busy with his task, a soft chime of anklets slowly neared him. It went unnoticed.
With each passing second, the chime got louder yet retained its gentle tone, seeming to emanate from beneath the miasma. Someone was ascending the spiral stairs.
Upon reaching the highest point beneath the miasma, the tinkling sound should have ceased as crossing the miasma wasn't something one should do, but it only intensified, growing louder until…
Right through the Blossoming Pestilence Miasma—the mist that held the power to even degrade the cultivation of Gods, turning them into mere mortals—a slender leg emerged.
The leg extended with a sinuous grace, every inch a testament to sculpted perfection. Silken skin glistened under the ambient light, casting a soft glow over the flawless curve of the calf and the taut, delicate arch of the foot. It was captivating enough to mesmerize all those who beheld its form, regardless of gender.