CHAPTER 360: CHAPTER360-THE ETERNAL LEGEND

Daniel had never expected that within the depths of the Royal Museum, he would stumble upon a precious handwritten journal left behind by none other than the God of Elements himself.

When his fingers brushed against the worn cover and he realized what it was, the truth struck him like lightning.

So that was it. The "ugly fellow" the grand scholar had mentioned earlier—who else could it have been but the God of Elements?

Suppressing his shock, Daniel opened the notebook instinctively. His eyes quickly scanned its pages, and soon he was engrossed, unable to pull away.

As expected of the God of Elements. Even before he had officially ascended into godhood, his passion and talent for all things elemental shone through every line of his words. His love for elemental theory, his obsession with refining and experimenting, his almost childlike excitement toward discoveries—all of it was written down meticulously.

For Daniel, the effect was immediate.

As he absorbed the notes, his understanding of the surrounding knowledge deepened, as though a fog had been lifted. His efficiency in learning surged by at least two-thirds.

And yet, even with such an advantage, even with the aid of his countless clones, even with his phenomenal intellect, Daniel still spent the equivalent of thirty years inside the Royal Museum to commit everything to memory.

Without clones, without his immense mental capacity, the task would have taken two thousand years just to memorize all of it—and even then, it would only be memorization, not true comprehension.

That was the measure of this place. The sheer ocean of knowledge hidden within the museum was beyond what mortals—or even demigods—could fathom.

When Daniel finally confirmed that he had recorded every last piece of information into his mind, he turned to the grand scholar.

"You can ask me your questions now," he said calmly. "I believe I can answer them."

The old man blinked, startled, as if he had misheard.

"Are you certain you want me to begin the questioning now?" His tone carried warning. "Once I begin, you will forever lose the right to continue reading these books."

Daniel nodded casually, his expression relaxed.

"Yes. Just ask directly."

The grand scholar’s eyes flashed with anger. The warmth he had displayed before vanished like smoke.

"You fool," he hissed. "You’re squandering an opportunity of immeasurable value. Do you realize what you’re giving up? Do you understand the treasure you’re casting aside?"

"I swear to the heavens, you will regret this decision for the rest of your life."

But Daniel only nodded again, unbothered.

"Grand scholar, I understand your concern. But I’m pressed for time. Please, ask your questions."

The old man’s jaw tightened. After one last glance of disbelief, he exhaled sharply and said, "Very well. My first question is this: if..."

The words that followed were strange. For most people, they would not even recognize the question. The scholar’s query was not spoken aloud in words, but conveyed through silence itself—a form of expression lost to time.

For any other person, it would have been impossible. But Daniel only smiled.

Silence and Gaze, he thought. He had already carved those concepts into his memory.

It was a special scholarly language, one that only those who understood its academic foundation could grasp.

Daniel replied easily, weaving in not only the correct answer but even adding a few of his own insights.

The grand scholar’s eyes widened.

It was impossible.

He had never imagined Daniel could answer. And yet, not only had the young emperor answered, he had given the exact response, flawless and complete.

This was madness.

The text Silence and Gaze had been lost since the collapse of the last epoch. It was a unique work compiled by two ancient gods themselves. According to all logic, Daniel should not even know it existed.

Even if by some miracle he had found the book here, there was no conceivable way he could have read and comprehended it in such a short time.

And yet, impossibly, Daniel had done it.

The young man glanced at him with mild impatience.

"Please, continue with the next question. I truly am in a hurry."

The grand scholar’s fury flared. He felt his chest about to burst. This boy had no respect for knowledge at all!

Very well, then. If Daniel cared so little, the scholar would not hold back.

He posed a second question—this one a problem so esoteric that almost no one could possibly answer it correctly.

But once again, Daniel gave the solution within seconds.

He even leaned back on the sofa with a leisurely posture, a cup of coffee appearing in his hand, as though he were answering trivial puzzles.

"Grand scholar," he said lightly, "stop wasting my time with questions this simple. There must be a limit to how many you can ask, yes?"

The old man nearly fainted from anger. His mind boiled, his scholarly pride in tatters.

In desperation, he asked a third question—one so advanced that even he himself had never been able to solve it. He had carried this riddle for thousands of years without resolution. Surely Daniel could not possibly answer it.

And yet—

"Ah, that one’s simple," Daniel replied. "The answer is..."

The scholar’s jaw dropped.

Daniel’s words were not only correct but filled with insights. For the first time in centuries, the grand scholar felt a spark ignite in his mind. Inspiration bloomed, and he realized his own scholarship might be advanced to an entirely new level thanks to this single answer.

It was madness. The world itself felt mad.

And then—what was even more absurd—the grand scholar actually rose from his seat, walked behind Daniel, and gently began to knead his shoulders in a gesture of reverence.

"Master," he said softly, "I... still have a few questions."

Daniel gave him a half-smile.

"Ask whatever you want. I’ll give you the answers."

The scholar’s eyes lit up. He fell into a deep bow, his voice solemn.

"From this day forth, you are my teacher. Thank you for your guidance."

Daniel chuckled faintly. To him, it was nothing serious.

The questions kept coming.

Some Daniel understood deeply, others he only repeated from what he had read without full comprehension. But that did not matter. To the grand scholar, every response Daniel gave was treasure, his face lighting up with joy each time.

When Daniel wrote out an answer, the old man looked upon it like a priceless gem, eyes gleaming with excitement.

At one point, the scholar even hurried forward to fetch Daniel a cup of hot coffee, but Daniel stopped him with a wave of his hand.

"No need for such trouble. I’m short on time. If you have no more questions, then open the way and let me leave."

For the first time, the grand scholar did not argue.

Instead, he bowed low, his demeanor full of respect. Then he lifted his hand and conjured a portal of light, its swirling depths opening into the path ahead.

"Teacher," he said reverently, "I believe you shall become an eternal legend."