Watching the old man leave, An Le slowly let out a breath.
This old man who had emerged from the Imperial Ancestral Temple held a special status. As a temple guardian of the Imperial Ancestral Temple, never mind his cultivation—his status and standing alone were beyond An Le's reach.
Yet An Le still declined the old man's wish to discuss paintings immediately. As the old man had said, a gentleman valued his word, and a promise weighed a thousand gold. Since he had promised Lin Manor first, there was no reason not to go without first asking leave.
The old man said he would conceal the Demonic Qi that leaked during his body tempering. This was naturally beneficial to An Le, and he was deeply grateful. Otherwise, if he truly drew the attention of Demon Slayers, it would indeed be troublesome.
Where there were demons in the world, there were naturally Demon Slayers. Demon Slayer was a broad term, but most were cultivators. More specifically, Daoists, monks, and the like also took on demon-slaying work.
Great Zhao's unofficial folk histories recorded quite a few tales of Demon Slayers. Many of them did not distinguish between good demons and evil demons; so long as one was a demon, they would seize it without asking questions. Some even struck like thunder if someone possessed anything related to demons.
Therefore, if the Demonic Qi from An Le's body tempering leaked out and attracted some unreasonable Demon Slayers, it would truly be a great nuisance.
He changed out of the azure robes stained with the bloody residue shed from his pores. Dressed in white, he appeared dashing and elegant, while the use of Demonic Qi to temper his body lent him an extra touch of bewitching allure.
After locking the small courtyard, An Le left Imperial Ancestral Temple Alley with the leisurely ease of a stroll through a garden.
As he passed the Imperial Ancestral Temple, its grand buildings stood tightly shut, concealing their furnishings and appearance from view.
An Le did not linger over it. He withdrew his gaze and stepped onto Qingbo Street, heading toward Quiet Street, where the estates of nobles and dignitaries clustered.
Because of the Demonic Jade, he had practiced the Five Animal Exercises a while longer today. He likely would not have time to fleece Fairy Yun Rou by West Lake, but Lin Manor had plenty of young masters, enough for An Le to fleece to his heart's content.
Upon arriving at Quiet Street and stepping over its smooth blue stone paving, he recalled how he had been attacked here yesterday and felt Luo Qingchen's oppressive might. The corner of An Le's lips lifted as he silently tucked the matter away in his heart.
Passing through the Stone Tablet Jade Workshop before Lin Manor, where even officials of a hundred ranks had to dismount and walk, he raised the door knocker and rapped on the gate. A maid soon came to open it for him.
"Please come in, Mister An."
The petite maid looked at the increasingly refined and handsome An Le, blushed without realizing it, and carefully led the way toward the Training Hall.
Lin Qingyin and Lin Zhuifeng had already been waiting in the Training Hall. When An Le arrived in white robes, his face carrying an added trace of alluring charm, the two women could not help stealing a few extra glances at him.
When An Le saw the two women, he smiled as well. Casually fleecing them, he drew two wisps of Time Qi from each of them.
Lin Ye, the Eighth Young Master who had been won over by An Le's painting-restoration skills yesterday, came running over with a cheerful grin to greet him. An Le was not polite either, taking two wisps of Time Qi from him.
These third-generation young masters of Lin Manor, who were of Ninth Sister's generation, generally carried seven or eight wisps of Time Qi. Lin Zhuifeng had more, over ten wisps, while Lin Qingyin had less than Lin Zhuifeng, with only seven wisps.
If An Le came a few more times, Lin Qingyin would be drained dry.
Fortunately, there were many young masters, enough to support An Le's siphoning for some time.
After drawing Time Qi from two young masters as well as Lin Qingyin and Lin Zhuifeng—a total of four people—he reached his limit and could draw no more.
The eight wisps he had drawn were all grey Time Qi.
Flowing Gold Time Qi, which could condense into a Time Dao Fruit, was indeed not so easy to produce.
Of the two wisps of Time Qi he had drawn from the woman that morning, one had turned into a Dao Fruit, leaving only one. Adding the eight wisps now credited to him, An Le's reserves suddenly became much more abundant.
An Le estimated that, at present, drawing around ten wisps of Time Qi each day was probably his limit.
Perhaps once his cultivation rose to the next realm, he would be able to draw more.
Taking out charcoal sticks, sharpening them, and spreading paper, An Le began today's task of painting for the young masters at Lin Manor.
The sun sank westward, and rosy clouds filled the sky.
Willows trailed gracefully along the side of the long street, while a gentle breeze brushed his face, bringing a different kind of comfort.
An Le bade farewell to Lin Zhuifeng and Lin Qingyin, then left Lin Manor. Today, he had not managed to see Madam Hua.
He wandered along the long street to a tavern, where he bought a pot of Old Yellow Wine and had some pig head meat and braised beef sliced up as well.
Carrying the wine and food beneath the glow of the evening clouds, he headed neither hurriedly nor slowly toward the small courtyard in Imperial Ancestral Temple Alley—his temporary home in Lin'an Prefecture.
Upon returning to the small courtyard, he found the Old Scholar Tree flourishing with lush branches and leaves, rustling in the wind. An Le drew water from the nearby old well and watered the flowers and potted plants before setting out a table in the courtyard and arranging the wine and dishes upon it.
As night deepened, moonlight covered half the homes; the Northern Dipper hung askew, the Southern Dipper slanted low.
Night quietly descended. A clear moon hung overhead, and stars scattered across the heavens.
Footsteps sounded beyond the alley. The old man in plain robes entered the courtyard at an unhurried pace, one hand holding a mounted scroll and the other behind his back. Like an old friend, he had arrived right on time.
"Hahaha, I could smell the wine from far away."
The old man chuckled and sat in a courtyard chair. Looking at the already-warmed Old Yellow Wine and the plated pig head meat on the table, his smile broadened.
Yellow wine and small dishes were naturally nothing to him. He could fetch even immortal brews to drink alone whenever he wished. Yet as the one stationed in the Imperial Ancestral Temple, it had been far too long since he had sat with someone like this, drinking wine and eating dishes. For a moment, his emotions were complicated.
An Le poured the old man some yellow wine and said with a smile, "This is Old Yellow Wine sold by a tavern in Yanchun Lane on Imperial Street. I drank it there once with a friend, and it had quite a flavor. I brought back a pot for you to try, Senior. If you enjoy it, you may come often in the future. This junior will sweep the couch and prepare wine to welcome you."
The old man drained his cup in one gulp, squinting his small eyes as he smacked his lips.
"Fine wine. It has the flavor of craftsmanship. Good!"
The old man praised it, then began exchanging cups with An Le. After three small cups of wine, he stroked his long brows, took up the scroll, and slowly unfurled it.
"Young friend, since you were able to enter Lin Manor as a painter, you must possess genuine skill. Come, let us admire a painting."
The old man smiled.
Candlelight flickered dimly over the scroll.
When An Le's gaze fell upon it, he saw a Gongbi painting of bamboo. The scroll depicted bamboo in a single hue, filled with elegant charm.
As An Le examined the painting, his mind was faintly stirred and began moving of its own accord, as if he were contemplating the Sword Waterfall Diagram.
Yet this was not Entering Stillness through visualization. Without entering stillness, simply looking at the painting could stir his mind—this alone showed how extraordinary it was!
"Young friend, what do you think of this old man's Bamboo and Insect Painting?"
The old man asked with a smile.
An Le studied it closely and could not help praising it. "Shadowy bamboo groves and sparse silhouettes, double-outline coloring that makes color take flight. Then there are the longhorn beetles and grasshoppers, every detail rendered with exquisite precision. It is the pinnacle of Gongbi bamboo painting—a master's work!"
When the old man heard An Le's assessment, he knew An Le understood paintings. Praise from someone who understood art was simply different.
It was not like those who knew nothing and could only say, "What a fine painting."
Could this old man not know his own painting was good?
The old man chuckled, poured himself a cup of yellow wine, and drained it. He felt as though even the wine had gained a sweet flavor.
An Le continued staring at the scroll. His mind seemed to grow stronger and stronger as he examined the painting.
"Do you feel your mind growing stronger? We cultivators do not paint merely by casually splashing ink. We wrap our minds into our works, giving the paintings deeper meaning."
Seeing An Le's expression, the old man stroked his beard and smiled. "The path of Spirit Refinement cultivates the mind. Music, chess, calligraphy, and painting do not merely cultivate one's temperament; they can also strengthen the mind. There are many painters in the palace. They place their minds within their paintings, allowing others to nourish their spirits by viewing them."
"Many great Spirit Refinement masters excel in both calligraphy and painting. When a renowned master makes a move, a single scroll can rival a rare Spirit Refinement magic treasure."
As he drank and ate, the old man imparted some knowledge to An Le.
"This Bamboo and Insect Painting of mine was painted using only ordinary techniques, without incorporating my mind. Yet it still possesses a trace of wondrousness, and viewing it can nourish the spirit."
An Le nodded, marveling as he looked at the painting, almost unable to put it down.
The old man smiled and looked at An Le. "Young friend, your entry into Lin Manor as a painter was partly due to good fortune. Given Lin Manor's status, inviting a palace painter would not be difficult. But the forces behind palace painters are tangled together like roots and branches. Lin Manor has never involved itself in factional struggles, which is why they arranged this painter selection and allowed you to enter Lin Manor."
"Still, for your paintings to earn Old Madam Yu's appreciation, they must have something worthy of praise. This old man is rather looking forward to seeing your work."
Hearing this, An Le rose and went inside, taking out several sketch drawings and handing them to the old man.
The old man accepted them and examined them closely. A strange glint flashed in his eyes. "Using charcoal as ink, these paintings capture reality to the fullest. You have opened another path—truly worthy of praise."
"If you were painting people, this would indeed be more suitable than Gongbi line drawing. No wonder you were able to surpass so many painters in Lin'an and enter Lin Manor."
The old man greatly appreciated An Le's sketches.
He set the drawings down and looked at An Le. "But this old man prefers painting with wolf-hair brushes and ink. Does young friend understand any of that?"
At once, An Le understood. The old man was testing him. Though he appreciated sketches, he did not like them. If sketches were all An Le could do, then tonight might be the last time they drank and discussed paintings.
Yet An Le was not timid. He smiled. "To hold a wolf-hair brush and splash ink across the page with free and unrestrained abandon—this junior understands a little of it as well."
The old man's eyes immediately lit up.
But saw An Le rise, lift the candle, and walk toward the room. "Senior has painted Gongbi bamboo, so this junior shall respond with Ink Bamboo."
Ink Bamboo... Confusion flashed through the old man's eyes. Carrying a pot of Old Yellow Wine, he followed An Le into the room.
Inside, raw xuan paper was spread vertically across the table. An Le carefully ground the ink, closed his eyes, and pondered.
The old man poured himself a cup of yellow wine and drank on his own. He glanced at An Le, curious to see how the youth would paint bamboo.
Painting took considerable time. Was An Le taking up his brush now merely out of youthful high spirits?
If that were truly the case, the old man would be somewhat disappointed.
But An Le did not know what the old man was thinking. In his mind, painting after painting of bamboo naturally flashed past, until at last the bamboo spirit of that great bamboo master rose in his heart.
He opened his eyes, dipped a wolf-hair brush deeply in ink, and laid scorched ink upon the white xuan paper. He lifted the brush in groups of three and two, paused after each stroke, then lifted again.
The slender main stalks of bamboo sprang vividly to life upon the paper. He then switched to pale ink, using the same brushwork to paint the thin bamboo stalks. Each stroke came in perfect order, as though ink already filled his chest.
Using scorched ink for the leaves, a pause and a flick formed each bamboo leaf. Like swords and like blades, the two wolf-hair brushes alternated between scorched ink and pale ink. In no more than a moment, ink-painted bamboo and stone had appeared vividly upon the raw xuan paper.
The bamboo leaves possessed the sharpness of swords. The slender stalks bore their many leaves, standing upon a massive rock, yet tall and straight like a gentleman's backbone!
A painting of ink bamboo and stone seemed to emanate righteous energy!
It pulled at the mind as though overturning stars and stirring the Northern Dipper!
As though unaware that the old man stood beside him, An Le took up the brush once more. He inscribed Banqiao Bamboo in Banqiao Style, dipping his brush in ink and writing swiftly.
"Clinging fast to the green mountains, never letting go..."
At some point, the old man had begun staring unblinkingly at the painting. His hand had frozen midway through pouring wine, and the liquor spilled from the cup.
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