CHAPTER 78: A NAME THAT SHOULDN’T EXIST

Rowan’s expression didn’t change. "I wanted to offer him a small reward for doing so well at such a young age. Even in the semifinals, he fought like a true warrior. And.....we have some shared interests as well." Rowan didn’t spell out exactly why he brought Logan here.

Elias crossed his arms. "Oh! Shared interests huh! And does Father know?"

"No. Not yet. And I don’t think he would mind me socialising and bringing a guest of my own."

Elias studied his brother for a moment longer. His gaze then flicked back to Logan, but there was no hostility—just careful calculation.

"I see," he said finally. "Just make sure your ’interests’ don’t cause political ripples."

Rowan gave a slow nod. "They won’t."

After a short silence, Elias turned to leave, stopping only once at the door.

"Talent is admired... until it threatens the wrong people. Walk carefully, Logan Smith."

Elias blurted out before finally leaving the place.

Logan exhaled softly, watching the door close behind him. "That was your brother?"

Rowan gave a dry chuckle. "Unfortunately."

"He doesn’t seem to like unwanted guests."

"No. He’s just worried, thinking I’m trying to build an alliance with the Smith family by inviting you here. He thinks I’m after the throne... that I want to replace him."

Logan sat back, thoughtful. "He’s sharp though."

"He is. He’d make a great king someday. The only problem is—he trusts no one."

Logan didn’t answer. He simply reached for his cup again and sipped slowly. He didn’t want to be involved in royal politics. His own family drama was already more than enough to handle.

After a moment, Rowan stood up and said, "Come on. Let’s finish up. The library’s waiting."

Logan nodded and then followed behind him.

As they walked toward the grand hallway once again, a new thought slowly formed in Logan’s mind—one he hadn’t considered before.

If the royal palace holds records from a thousand years ago...

Could other places have them too?

And what if someone else is already training with this method?

He brushed the thought aside for now. There were too many questions. But no answers yet.

They passed through a corridor filled with white marble statues. Some held staffs, others blades. Their eyes were carved with precision, as if still watching the path ahead. The corridor turned, then turned again, until they finally stood in front of an old yet majestic door.

It was tall—almost touching the ceiling—with golden vines etched across its surface. A lion’s face was carved in the center, its eyes were made of emerald stone. Despite its age, it stood firm, proud. Like it was guarding secrets no one was meant to find.

Rowan reached forward and pushed the door open with both hands.

It didn’t creak.

There was no resistance.

It simply opened—quietly, like it had been waiting.

Logan stepped in after Rowan.

And what he saw made his breath pause for just a second.

The Royal Archive wasn’t just a library.

It was more like a sanctuary of knowledge.

The large room was filled with wooden shelves, each packed with scrolls and old books covered in leather. Lanterns floated mid-air, casting a soft golden glow. There were tables carved from polished stone and stairways leading up to more levels above.

It was quiet. So quiet that Logan could hear his own footsteps echoing back.

"This place is sealed from the outside," Rowan explained casually. "Only a few people have access here. You are the first person to enter this place without having royal blood."

Logan gave a slow nod. He didn’t speak. His eyes were too busy scanning the collection of books.

They walked between rows of bookshelves. Rowan picked out books as they passed—one about the first dungeon emergence in the kingdom of Solmyr, another about the fall of the First Tier Ten Archmage, and a third about mana discovery after the Great Collapse.

"These are things not recorded in the public archives," Rowan said as he handed Logan one of the books. "But I think you’ll be more interested in this section."

He stopped in front of a specific shelf. It had no nameplate. Just dust, old leather, and a collection of rusted books.

Rowan placed his hand on the shelf, drawing Logan’s attention.

"This shelf contains records of forgotten techniques. Not illegal. Just... lost in time."

He pulled out a thick brown book and placed it on the table beside them. Its title was barely visible but just readable enough—"Physique Strengthening and Spiritual energy: Theory and Practice".

Logan leaned in.

He flipped the first few pages and... froze.

His eyes locked on the script.

It wasn’t written in the modern tongue.

It was an ancient language—one only a few scholars could decipher with reference texts and complex decoding.

But Logan could read it fluently.

Because it was his language. From his first life.

His fingers hovered over the page, almost trembling.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t let even the smallest reaction show on his face. But inside, he was shaking.

Rowan didn’t notice.

He was busy browsing another set of books.

Logan quickly turned the pages and kept reading. The technique described was almost identical to what he had been doing using Qi in secret. The Qi circulation to produce internal energy. The breathing method to strengthen the body. Even the nascent soul formation—it was all here. Someone had documented it.

"Who wrote this?" Logan wondered in silence. "Was there someone else like me?"

He continued flipping pages until Rowan called out.

"Hey, give me a second. I think I left something behind last time I came here."

Rowan moved toward the corner shelf.

He pulled out a red book.

But in doing so, another book—tucked beside it—slipped loose and fell to the floor with a soft thud.

It landed open.

And Logan’s eyes widened the moment he glanced at it.

His breath caught in his throat.

Because the heading on the page read—

"The Strongest Man in the World"

And just below that, in bold ink—

"Nolan Ashborn"