A Pot of Yellow Wine, Bathing Under the Stars to Paint Ink Bamboo

After seeing the old man off, An Le slowly exhaled a breath.

This old man who emerged from the Grand Temple held a special identity. Being a temple keeper of the Grand Temple, setting aside his cultivation for a moment, his status alone was beyond An Le's reach.

However, An Le still rejected the old man's idea of immediately discussing paintings. Just as the old man had said, a gentleman values his word, and a promise is worth a thousand pieces of gold. Since he had already agreed to the Lin family, there was no reason to go without permission.

The old man said he would help conceal the demonic Qi that leaked during his body tempering. For An Le, this was naturally beneficial, and he was quite grateful. Otherwise, attracting a Demon Slayer would indeed be troublesome.

Where there are demons, there are naturally Demon Slayers. Demon Slayer is a general term, but most of them are cultivators. In a more detailed classification, Taoist priests and monks also moonlight as Demon Slayers.

The unofficial histories of the Great Zhao recorded many stories of Demon Slayers. Many Demon Slayers did not distinguish between good demons and evil demons; they captured all demons indiscriminately, without rhyme or reason. They would even act with thunderous fury if someone possessed anything related to demons.

Therefore, if An Le's demonic Qi leaked during his body tempering and attracted some unreasonable Demon Slayers, it would indeed be very troublesome.

After changing out of the blood-stained green robe that had shed from his pores, he donned a white robe, appearing dashing and elegant. Furthermore, tempering his body with demonic Qi added a touch of allure.

The small courtyard was locked. After leaving, An Le walked out of the Grand Temple alley as if strolling through a garden.

Passing by the Grand Temple, the grand, tightly shut building made it impossible to see its furnishings or appearance.

An Le didn't linger, withdrew his gaze, and set foot on Qingbo Street, heading towards Jing Street, where many noble residences were located.

Today, because of the Demonic Jade, he had practiced the Five Animals technique for a longer time. He likely wouldn't have time to go to Fairy Yun Rou to "shear her wool," but with so many young masters in the Lin family, An Le could shear to his heart's content.

Arriving at Jing Street, he stepped on the smooth bluestone ground. Recalling the ambush he had encountered here yesterday and the oppressive aura of Luo Qingchen, An Le's lips curled as he silently filed the matter away in his heart.

He passed the stone tablet and jade archway in front of the Lin mansion, which even officials had to dismount their horses to pass. He lifted the door knocker and knocked on the door, and a maidservant opened it for him.

"Mr. An has arrived, please come in."

The petite maidservant, looking at the increasingly elegant An Le, blushed unconsciously. She carefully led the way to the Martial Arts Hall.

Lin Qingyin and Lin Zhuifeng were already waiting in the Martial Arts Hall. When An Le arrived in his white robe, his face, tinged with a hint of allure, made the two women glance at him more than once.

Seeing the two women, An Le couldn't help but smile. Casually "shearing wool," he plucked two strands of Time Qi from each of them.

The Eighth Young Master, Lin Ye, who had been conquered by An Le's photo editing skills yesterday, came over with a smile to greet him. An Le, without being polite, also plucked two strands of Time Qi from him.

These third-generation young masters of the Lin family, who were of the same generation as Ninth Sister, generally had about seven or eight strands of Time Qi. Lin Zhuifeng had more, around ten strands, while Lin Qingyin had fewer than Lin Zhuifeng, only seven strands.

If An Le did this a few more times, Lin Qingyin would be completely drained.

However, fortunately, there were many young masters, so they could support An Le's absorption for a while longer.

After continuously drawing Time Qi from two young masters, plus Lin Qingyin and Lin Zhuifeng, a total of four people, he reached his limit and could not draw any more.

The eight strands he drew were all gray Time Qi.

The Flowing Gold Time Qi that could condense into a Dao Fruit was indeed not so easily produced.

The two strands of Time Qi he extracted from the woman in the morning, one strand became a Dao Fruit, leaving only one strand. Coupled with the eight strands he gained now, An Le's wealth had suddenly become more substantial.

An Le also estimated that his limit for absorbing Time Qi per day was about ten strands.

Perhaps his cultivation would increase to the next realm, and he could absorb more.

Taking charcoal sticks, sharpening them, and spreading out paper, An Le began his task of painting for the young masters at the Lin mansion today.

The sun set, and the sky was filled with rosy clouds.

Willows swayed by the long street, and a gentle breeze brushed against his face, bringing a unique sense of comfort.

An Le bid farewell to Lin Zhuifeng and Lin Qingyin and left the Lin mansion. Today, he did not get to see Madam Hua.

Strolling along the long street, he arrived at a restaurant, ordered a pot of old yellow wine, and also ordered some pig's head meat and braised beef.

Carrying the wine and dishes, bathed in the sunset, he walked unhurriedly towards the small courtyard in the Grand Temple alley, which was also his temporary home in Lin'an Prefecture.

Upon returning to the small courtyard, the old locust tree in the yard was lush with leaves, rustling in the wind. An Le fetched water from the nearby old well and watered the potted plants before setting up a table in the courtyard and arranging the wine and dishes.

The deep night descended quietly, the clear moon hung in the sky, and the stars filled it.

Footsteps sounded outside the alley. The old man in plain clothes, holding a framed painting in one hand and with the other behind his back, stepped into the courtyard unhurriedly, like an old friend arriving as expected.

"Hahaha, I could smell the wine from a distance."

The old man chuckled, sat on a chair in the courtyard, and looked at the already heated old yellow wine and the plated pig's head meat on the table, his smile widening.

The yellow wine and small dishes were nothing to him; even if he could obtain immortal wine to drink alone, as the keeper of the Grand Temple, he had not sat down to drink and eat with someone like this for a very long time, and his emotions were somewhat complex.

An Le poured the old man some yellow wine and said with a smile, "This is old yellow wine sold by a restaurant in Yanchun Li on Imperial Street. I drank it once with a friend, and it was quite flavorful. I brought a pot for you to try. If you are interested, senior, you can come often in the future. This junior will prepare wine and welcome you."

The old man drank it all in one gulp, narrowed his eyes, and smacked his lips.

"Good wine, it has the taste of craftsmanship, excellent!"

The old man praised, then began to toast and drink with An Le. After three small cups of wine, the old man stroked his long eyebrows, took the painting, and slowly unrolled it.

"Young friend, if you can work as a painter in the Lin mansion, you must have some real skill. Come, let us appreciate the painting."

The old man said with a smile.

The candlelight flickered, illuminating the painting.

His gaze fell upon it. This was a meticulously detailed painting of bamboo, rendered in a single color, exuding an elegant charm.

An Le admired the painting. Involuntarily, his spirit was stirred and began to circulate, much like meditating on the "Sword Waterfall Diagram."

However, this was not meditation. Without entering samadhi, merely gazing at the painting stirred his spirit, demonstrating its extraordinary nature!

"Young friend, is my Bamboo and Insect Painting to your liking?"

The old man chuckled.

An Le examined it closely, unable to help but praise, "Distant shadows of the graceful bamboo, outlined with double strokes and filled with color, seeming to fly with its hues. It also depicts rhinoceros beetles and katydids, all rendered with meticulous detail. A masterpiece of fine-brush bamboo painting! Truly the work of a master!"

Hearing An Le's critique, the old man knew he understood art. Praise from someone who understood was different.

It wasn't like praise from someone who didn't, who would only exclaim, "The painting is good."

Did I not know my own painting was good?!

The old man chuckled, poured a cup of yellow wine, and drank it down in one gulp, feeling a sweetness even in the wine.

An Le continued to stare at the scroll, his spirit seemingly growing stronger as he observed the painting.

"Do you feel your spirit growing? For us cultivators, painting is not merely a casual act of applying ink. We infuse our spirit into the artwork, imbuing it with deeper meaning."

Seeing An Le's reaction, the old man stroked his beard and smiled, slowly explaining, "The path of Spirit Refinement focuses on the spirit. Music, chess, calligraphy, and painting not only cultivate one's temperament but also strengthen the spirit. The imperial court employs many painters; they embed their spirit into their scrolls, allowing viewers to nourish their spirit by observing the art."

"Many masters of Spirit Refinement are proficient in both calligraphy and painting. In fact, the work of a renowned artist can be as valuable as a rare Spirit Refinement magic treasure."

The old man drank wine and ate dishes, sharing some knowledge with An Le.

"My Bamboo and Insect Painting was merely created with ordinary painting techniques, without the infusion of spirit. However, it still possesses a certain mystique, capable of nourishing the spirit through observation."

An Le nodded, greatly impressed, gazing at the painting with a touch of reluctance to part with it.

The old man smiled and looked at An Le, "For you to be invited to paint at the Lin residence, you were quite fortunate. With the Lin family's status, inviting a court painter wouldn't be difficult. However, due to the intricate power dynamics behind court painters, the Lin family has always avoided political entanglements. This is why they adopted this method of selecting painters, allowing you, young friend, to enter the Lin residence."

"But if your paintings are appreciated by the Old Madam, there must be something commendable about them. I, myself, am rather looking forward to seeing your work."

Upon hearing this, An Le rose and went inside, retrieving several sketches and handing them to the old man.

The old man took them and examined them closely, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Using charcoal as ink, these paintings capture reality with remarkable fidelity. It's an innovative approach, worthy of praise."

"If painting people, this method is indeed more suitable than fine-brush line drawing. No wonder you were able to surpass many painters in Lin'an to enter the Lin residence."

The old man was quite appreciative of An Le's sketches.

He put down the sketches and looked at An Le, saying, "However, I prefer painting with wolf-hair brushes and ink. Do you understand this, young friend?"

An Le immediately understood. The old man was testing him. While he appreciated the sketches, he didn't favor them. If An Le could only do sketches, then perhaps this would be the last time they shared wine and discussed painting.

An Le, however, was not intimidated. He smiled, "To wield a wolf-hair brush and splash ink onto paper, with unrestrained freedom, of course, I understand this."

The old man's eyes lit up at his words.

An Le then rose, picked up the candlelight, and walked back inside. "Since Senior paints fine-brush bamboo, I shall respond with ink bamboo."

Ink bamboo... A hint of confusion flickered in the old man's eyes. He picked up a pot of old yellow wine and followed An Le indoors.

Inside, a sheet of raw Xuan paper was spread vertically on the table. An Le meticulously ground the ink, closed his eyes, and pondered.

The old man poured himself another cup of yellow wine and glanced at An Le, curious about how the young man would paint bamboo.

Painting was a time-consuming endeavor. Was An Le wielding the brush now out of youthful bravado?

If that were the case, the old man would be somewhat disappointed.

Unaware of the old man's thoughts, An Le's mind naturally conjured images of various bamboo paintings, and finally, the artistic style of a renowned bamboo painter surged in his heart.

He opened his eyes, dipped a wolf-hair brush into ink, and began. With thick ink, he touched the white Xuan paper, creating clusters with upward strokes, pausing after each, and then lifting again.

The slender main trunks of the bamboo sprang to life on the paper. He then switched to lighter ink, using the same brushstrokes to paint the slender main trunks, his strokes orderly, as if he had ink in his heart.

Using thick ink for the leaves, a pause and a flick formed the bamboo leaves, sharp as swords or knives. With two wolf-hair brushes, the thick and light inks transitioned seamlessly. In mere moments, ink-wash bamboo and rocks emerged on the raw Xuan paper.

The bamboo leaves possessed the sharpness of swords, and the slender bamboo trunks, bearing numerous leaves, stood upon rocks, yet they were long and straight, like the backbone of a gentleman!

A painting of ink-wash bamboo and rocks, exuding an aura of righteousness!

It stirred the spirit as if moving stars and constellations!

An Le seemed oblivious to the old man's presence. He picked up his brush again, and with the Banqiao Style, he signed his name, writing swiftly with ink.

"Firmly clinging to the green mountains, unyielding..."

At some point, the old man stared intently at the painting, his hand freezing mid-pour. The wine spilled from the cup.