Desolate Devouring Art - Chapter 1240 - Shocking Everyone Present
Chapter 1240 – Shocking Everyone Present
The disciples and elders turned toward Liu Wuxie, eager to see how he would respond. Only a handful had ever read the book in question. Liu Wuxie, after all, was a new disciple who had only just entered the Book Collection Pavilion for the first time. By all logic, he should not have known what the book contained.
“The Aquatic Moon—Huan Tian records the tragic love story between the Aquatic Moon Cave Master and Huan Tian. The first chapter describes the Aquatic Moon Cave Master’s cultivation and experiences…” Liu Wuxie began after drawing a deep breath.
His voice flowed steadily as he recited nearly the entire text word for word.
When he finished recounting the book, a deathly silence blanketed the square.
“That’s impossible! I was there when he read it—he only glanced at the book for three seconds!” one disciple shouted. Many inner disciples witnessed it when Liu Wuxie reached the sixth floor. Back then, he paused only briefly on the text before moving on.
“A coincidence! It has to be a coincidence!” cried the deacon who had posed the question, his face stiff with disbelief. The surrounding disciples echoed that doubt, insisting Liu Wuxie must have read it elsewhere.
The truth, however, was that people long knew the Aquatic Moon Cave Master’s love for Huan Tian as one of the Indigo Bamboo Star’s most poignant tales. At that time, Huan Tian already had a wife—their love doomed itself from the start.
Huan Tian once belonged to the upper echelon of the Heavenly Dragon Sect, which made books about him scarce. No one could imagine where Liu Wuxie could have learned such details.
Later in the story, when Huan Tian fell gravely ill, the Aquatic Moon Cave Master risked her life and traveled to the Blood Fiend Astral Domain in search of a rare spiritual herb to save him.
Though she succeeded, she suffered mortal wounds and died. Consumed by grief and guilt, Huan Tian died the following year. Their tragic tale was real; scribes had recorded it hundreds of thousands of years ago, but few remembered it today.
As Liu Wuxie spoke, each word carried a strange power; he conjured images of the heartbreaking tale in everyone’s minds. Several female disciples silently wiped away tears, while others cried out in indignation, condemning Huan Tian as heartless.
High above, divine senses lingering in the sky sighed. They witnessed the story in ages past; to them, no absolute right or wrong existed in matters of love, only people meeting at the wrong time.
The deacon chose the book because of its obscurity. Ancient and overlooked, most disciples passing through the pavilion never noticed it.
Elder Huang and Elder Ji exchanged a glance; a trace of gravity flickered in their eyes.
“What’s in the book placed in the six hundred-seventieth slot on the fifth floor?” the deacon responsible for that floor demanded. He deliberately withheld the title, forcing Liu Wuxie to identify it himself. The question raised the difficulty sharply.
Every disciple who entered the Book Collection Pavilion searched only for texts they needed. Who among them would remember the precise placement of a book? Apart from the deacons tasked with reorganizing, no one present could answer.
This was a vicious trap, asking about a book’s slot number instead of its content. Everyone saw the deacon deliberately trying to make things harder for Liu Wuxie.
“That’s unfair. Shelf positions have nothing to do with reading,” several disciples protested.
Each floor held tens of thousands of slots; even the deacons couldn’t memorize them all. They arranged books in numerical order.
Elder Long frowned. If Liu Wuxie failed to answer, Yu Zhengyang and the other elders would seize the chance to condemn him.
Yu Zhengyang curved his lips in a cold smirk and gave the deacon a subtle thumbs-up.
“This Liu Wuxie is too arrogant. Now he will finally fall into his place—he’ll learn that not everyone tolerates provocation,” many disciples muttered, especially veterans who disliked being outshone by a newcomer.
Yet Liu Wuxie showed no fear; a hint of mockery flashed across his face.
“It’s a book called the Seven Slaughter Blade Art,” he said. “It records fifteen forms in total. The first form takes a slanting path…”
As he spoke, he didn’t merely describe the book; he also demonstrated its techniques on the spot, each movement executed with precise mastery.
The disciples around the square exchanged uncertain looks; none could tell whether Liu Wuxie was bluffing or acting genuine.
“I’ve seen this blade technique before, but how does Liu Wuxie know how to execute it? From the way he moves, it’s as if he has practiced for years.”
The disciples who trained in the Seven Slaughter Blade Art stepped forward to confirm the technique’s authenticity, yet even they could not fathom how Liu Wuxie grasped its essence.
Others who practiced the technique nodded grimly in agreement. Many spent an entire year with it and still failed to capture its essence.
However, Liu Wuxie had glanced at the text only once, and he mastered it somehow. The realization alone proved terrifying.
“I’m going to see for myself!” one curious disciple exclaimed and prepared to rush to the fifth floor. They had yet to reshelve the books, but the slot numbers remained intact.
“There’s no need to check,” the deacon who posed the challenge admitted through clenched teeth. “He’s right—down to the very last word.”
His face was grim. Liu Wuxie had not only recited the Seven Slaughter Blade Art perfectly, but he also performed it flawlessly. Even the deacon himself shook from the display.
The revelation slapped across the faces of all who mocked him earlier.
Yu Zhengyang’s expression darkened. He had expected Liu Wuxie to humiliate himself, but now it seemed the real fool was him.
A collective hiss rippled through the crowd after the deacon confirmed the answer. If Liu Wuxie truly read and absorbed over one hundred thousand books as he claimed, then his ability was monstrous.
“I recall that Liu Wuxie refined dozens of Wisdom Stones… Could that be the reason? Perhaps his primordial spirit differs from ordinary people’s,” someone murmured—news of Liu Wuxie’s massive consumption of Wisdom Stones already spread throughout the sect.
“How is that possible?” another argued. “Wisdom Stones only expand the soul sea—how could anyone’s soul sea contain the knowledge of a hundred thousand books?”
Many continued to doubt, insisting it had to be a unique ability rather than mere soul-sea capacity.
Overhead, divine senses whispered among themselves, equally unable to comprehend how Liu Wuxie managed such a feat.
Skeptical gazes in the crowd gradually shifted, and mockery gave way to awe and wariness.
“That brat isn’t simple,” muttered outer-sect disciples. “Whether true or not, he’s made a name for himself today—even the upper echelons in the lesser realm must have taken notice.”
They remembered how Liu Wuxie pulled off miracle after miracle, from the entrance assessment to the wilderness training. Each time, he left the crowd breathless.
“Does anyone else have anything to say?” Elder Long demanded, his gaze sweeping the square. His tone left no doubt that he favored Liu Wuxie after such a display.
“There are over a hundred thousand books—those two answers were just lucky guesses,” one deacon grumbled, unwilling to yield. He refused to believe Liu Wuxie honestly remembered them all.
Although the disciples doubted less, many still refused to accept complete belief.
“That’s right—he only got lucky!” More than a hundred deacons echoed, including those responsible for the seventh through ninth floors. If Liu Wuxie escaped unpunished today, their reputation would suffer. Worse, blame for the spiritual array’s collapse would fall squarely on them, so they desperately tried to pin it on Liu Wuxie.
“The first slot on the sixth floor holds the Classic of Mountains and Seas, a text that catalogs various rare beasts…” Liu Wuxie began calmly.
“The second slot holds a martial technique called the Great River Sword Art—its first form is Falling Sword…”
“The third slot contains a volume that lists the power structures of the major planets in the Indigo Bamboo Astral Domain…”
He continued without pause, reciting the books one by one. Though he skimmed much of the content, each description proved precise and unmistakable. His voice rang across the pavilion like thunder.
Elder Huang and Elder Ji quickly unfurled a catalog mapping the pavilion’s distribution; in less than an hour, Liu Wuxie had flawlessly accounted for every book on the sixth floor.
However, he did not stop. He moved directly to the fifth floor, his pace quickening, his voice reverberating through the sky above the Book Collection Pavilion.
The disciples froze in disbelief, unable to articulate their feelings. Even the hundred-odd deacons stood stunned, mouths hanging open without rebuttal.
“That’s enough. We believe you,” Elder Ji finally interjected, cutting Liu Wuxie off. He could not allow him to continue; if he were allowed to continue, Liu Wuxie would expose the pavilion’s secrets.
At that moment, everyone knew the truth—Liu Wuxie indeed read and memorized over one hundred thousand books in just three days.
High above divine senses still whispered to one another—some shocked, others skeptical—but all kept their attention fixed on Liu Wuxie.
“He really memorized them all!” the disciples gasped, eyes wide with disbelief.
Now Liu Wuxie resembled a walking library, holding a sea of knowledge that even some ancient beings could not rival.
“He’s not normal at all—he’s a monster,” many muttered. Only a monster could accomplish what Liu Wuxie had done.
Around the square, the elders turned their heads away, unwilling to meet his gaze; they found his display too monstrous.
“Elder Yu, isn’t it time you honored your word?” Liu Wuxie asked, turning a sharp gaze toward Yu Zhengyang now that Elder Ji had confirmed the result.
The collapse of the spiritual array was not his fault; the sect had to find a way to strengthen it.
Only then did the disciples remember Yu Zhengyang’s vicious oath—if Liu Wuxie had memorized all the books he flipped through, Yu Zhengyang had promised to kneel, apologize, call Liu Wuxie “grandfather,” and resign from his elder position to become a mere miscellaneous deacon.
Faces turned toward Yu Zhengyang, many wearing gloating expressions. Most were disciples from the Heavenly Martial Institute, still resentful over how Yu Zhengyang had tried to suppress Liu Wuxie earlier.
Yu Zhengyang’s eyes grew cold, gleaming with a venomous glare. Like a viper ready to strike, he stared intently at Liu Wuxie.
