Ink Wash Bamboo and Stone Reflects the Soul; No Sooner Had He Entered Stillness Than He Achieved Embryonic Breathing

As an old man deeply immersed in the art of painting, he naturally understood ink wash techniques.

Yet since ancient times, bamboo had primarily been painted in the Gongbi style, every line on every bamboo leaf needing meticulous refinement.

But who could have imagined that bamboo could be painted with such freehand flair, such grace, such... unrestrained spirit!

Leaves like a Swordsman girded with a sword, stalks like the spine of a gentleman!

Though not realistic, the interplay between dark ink and pale ink created such depth that this Ink Wash Bamboo and Stone Painting came alive. It was as though a breeze had passed through, making the slender bamboo stalks sway gently, yet they still stood proud and unbending, Transcending Worldliness!

A new way of painting bamboo!

The old man suddenly came back to himself. Glancing at the Old Yellow Wine continually spilling from his cup due to his lapse of composure, he was nevertheless filled with satisfaction.

"What an Ink Wash Bamboo and Stone Painting!"

"This trip for wine has been most delightful!"

He drained the wine, already gone cold, in one gulp. The liquor ran down his throat and stained his beard, yet it left him incomparably satisfied!

At this moment, An Le had already fallen into a peculiar state.

Outside the window, stars filled the heavens, their radiance falling over An Le like a veil of gauze.

The youth held his brush and stood still, yet within his mind, his Spiritual power seemed to be boiling.

The Spiritual power tempered by the "Sword Waterfall Diagram" seemed, at this moment, to echo every bamboo leaf within the Ink Wash Bamboo and Stone Painting. Faint strands of sharp sword intent gathered from the painting!

Borrowing this intent, An Le felt the speed of his Spirit Refining visualization greatly increase!

At that moment, the Sword Dancer Dao Fruit displayed tremendous effect. It was as if sword intent had spilled into the painting, allowing An Le's understanding of the "Sword Waterfall Diagram" to make a tremendous leap.

His Spiritual power was growing at a remarkably swift rate!

Within his Niwan Palace, that blurry little sword gradually solidified and took shape!

At last, accompanied by a ringing clang, sword light spread everywhere!

An Le's spiritual state also crossed into an entirely new realm. His five senses sharpened, and even without breathing through his nose or mouth, he could capture the spiritual energy between heaven and earth.

Embryonic Breathing was a state in which the mind abided in the breath and returned to the origin, its meaning likened to an embryo. The mind harbored no thoughts, neither coming nor going; the heart was settled, and the spirit condensed.

The intent of the bamboo and stone painting complemented the intent of the "Sword Waterfall Diagram" perfectly, allowing An Le to use this opportunity to step into the Second Spirit Refining Realm, Embryonic Breathing!

After a long while, An Le slowly opened his eyes. His strengthened Spiritual power circulated, dazzling in the dimness like starlight in the sky.

An Le had never expected a painting to have such an effect. No wonder the old man had said that some masterpieces were worth no less than magical treasures. Painting could strengthen the mind of an artist, and naturally, those who viewed the paintings would also gain something from them.

"Clinging tight to the green mountains, never letting go; my roots were planted deep within shattered rock. Though ground and battered a thousand times, I remain steadfast, letting the winds from east, west, south, and north blow as they may."

"Bamboo and stone... what a poem of bamboo and stone, what a painting of bamboo and stone!"

The old man's praise came from beside him. An Le had reached Embryonic Breathing with his Spiritual power, and he put down his brush with a smile.

"Thank you for your praise, Senior."

"Ink wash painting is not uncommon, but using ink wash to paint bamboo without adding a single color is rare indeed."

"A fine poem matched with a fine painting. Young man, you have truly given this old man a surprise."

The old man nodded and carefully examined the painting, whose ink had yet to dry. Unrestrained appreciation filled his eyes.

"Yesterday, you suffered an assassination attempt at Quiet Street Entrance. Luo Qingchen relied on his cultivation to oppress you, seeking to bend your spine, but you did not bend. Now, seeing this painting of yours, I can tell that you possess the backbone of a gentleman. No wonder you could withstand that pressure without bowing your brows or breaking your waist."

"This poem and this painting are reflections of your soul. That is why they could resonate with your Spiritual power at this moment. No sooner had you entered stillness than you achieved Embryonic Breathing."

The old man stroked his beard in praise, his words also commending An Le's talent in Spirit Refining.

Finally, staring at the script of the inscribed poem, the old man narrowed his eyes.

"This handwriting... is also strange and eccentric. It carries the brushwork momentum of running cursive, yet it is not running cursive. There is even a faint hint of painting techniques within it, writing characters as though painting orchids... Furthermore, while the composition of the characters seems deliberately arranged, the writing is like painting. The harmony of calligraphy and painting blended together is something unseen in all ages!"

The old man's evaluation could be said to be exceedingly high. Of course, with his discerning eye, he could also tell that An Le had not yet wielded this style with great proficiency, and there was still room for improvement.

But considering An Le's age, such minor flaws could be ignored.

"Little Friend An, there is something special about this painting of yours. This old man likes it very much..." the old man said as he stroked his beard.

Seeing this, An Le immediately understood his meaning. "If Senior likes it, then I shall give it to you. For this painting to fall into the hands of one who appreciates it is also a kind of fortune."

The old man burst into laughter upon hearing this. "Well said, Little Friend An. A good painting needs someone who recognizes it. Naturally, this old man will not take a painting from you for nothing. Sword intent has arisen naturally within this Bamboo and Stone Painting. Tomorrow, this old man will personally bring wine, and... give you a sword as well. How about that?"

An Le's eyes suddenly lit up.

What sort of identity did this old man possess? Could a sword he gave away possibly be ordinary?

Trading one painting for one sword, An Le certainly would not be losing out.

The old man did not continue discussing anything with An Le. He even seemed somewhat impatient to share this fine painting with others. Carefully rolling up the xuan paper, he bid An Le farewell and left the small courtyard.

Watching the old man's departing figure, An Le smiled. After tidying up, he sat cross-legged and began refining his spirit.

One painting had allowed him to enter Embryonic Breathing, but An Le did not become arrogant because of it.

Recalling the pressure Luo Qingchen had brought him at Quiet Street Entrance, his current strength was still far from enough.

A fierce tiger lay within the youth's chest. He calmed its restless stirrings and waited for the right chance to lie low.

Neither elated by external things nor saddened by himself, he sat upright in the small courtyard, bathing in starlight and moonlight as he settled his mind and consolidated his Embryonic Breathing.

The night deepened, and thick fog rose, shrouding the sky and causing the starlight and moonlight alike to lose their luster.

Within the crisscrossing alleys of Lin'an Prefecture, hurried footsteps suddenly rang out. A figure wrapped head to toe in black fled swiftly, darting past like a black shadow of startled wild geese.

Moments later, several blade-bearing constables clad in official uniforms rushed over. Vitality and blood swirled around them, while murderous intent surged.

Huang Xian's eyes were cold as he looked toward the dark, endlessly intersecting alleys. His brow furrowed. "Hu Jingang actually got away! Keep chasing!"

The Black Yamen constables under his command all shouted and dashed out, continuing the pursuit.

Huang Xian's expression relaxed slightly. Exhaling, he took out a painting scroll from his robes. When he spread it open, it depicted Hu Jingang, nearly identical to the man who had fled earlier.

"Young Master An's painting is truly miraculous."

"With this painting and the five hundred taels of reward silver, as long as Hu Jingang remains within Lin'an Prefecture, he will sooner or later be brought to justice!"

Putting away the scroll, Huang Xian also rushed out, his figure vanishing into the slightly chilly spring night.

Inside a lavish manor.

Dozens of lit candles illuminated the room as brightly as day.

Luo Qingchen wore a thin robe as he sat cross-legged upon the bed. Spiritual power surged around him, while his vitality and blood rolled beneath his skin like thunder.

He was attempting to use Spiritual power to wash away the dust upon his Dao heart.

Previously, Legendary Scholar Li You'an had shattered him with a single slap, casting dust over his Dao heart. Prime Minister Qin had obtained the "East Sea Heart Cleansing Pearl" to help him wash away that dust, but Luo Qingchen had also paid the price of joining Qin Manor and becoming subject to another's control.

Yesterday, Hua Jiebing's Spring Rain Sword, flicked from her finger, had intimidated him. That sword intent had planted itself in his heart like a seed of fear. Every time he cultivated, he would feel alarmed, and dust would once again settle over his Dao heart.

This was Hua Jiebing's punishment for his actions.

Though Luo Qingchen was unwilling to accept it, his strength was inferior to hers. He could only endure it.

Vast Spiritual power surged like a howling gale, extinguishing every candle in the hall. Suffocating darkness arrived as promised and swallowed all light.

In the darkness, Luo Qingchen abruptly opened his eyes. His head was drenched in sweat, beads as large as beans rolling down his cheeks.

He panted heavily.

"No... still no... The sword intent is engraved upon my heart. It makes me afraid, makes me tremble. Whenever I cultivate, it appears like a ghostly specter and disrupts my will... My Spiritual power is not enough to erase it."

Luo Qingchen braced both hands against the bed, his hair hanging down as intense unwillingness filled his heart.

Hua Jiebing was indeed powerful. Even in Lin'an Prefecture, where experts were as numerous as rainbows, she held a place of her own.

The shadow such an existence cast over him was simply too great.

"Just because of a youth who has only entered stillness, Hua Jiebing so viciously planted a seed of fear in my heart... A woman's heart is the most venomous! Standing up for that youth? That is nothing but an excuse. It is only because I belong to Prime Minister Qin that she used this opportunity to destroy my Dao heart! To ruin my future!"

"In the struggle between the powerful and noble, I am merely a fish in the pond..."

Luo Qingchen closed his eyes. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, and his body trembled without end.

Yesterday's scenes lingered endlessly in his mind... gnawing at his heart like a nightmare.

He saw three thousand swords formed from spring rain descend in an overwhelming sweep.

He saw the carriage beside him be cut apart by Sword Qi and reduced to scattered dust.

Finally, he also saw that youth's spine still standing straight beneath his pressure!

Yet the strange thing was that the youth's resolute face had even eclipsed Hua Jiebing's sword intent, lingering in his mind and refusing to disperse...

His talent had originally been exceptionally dazzling, but dust had settled over it time and again. Now... many people likely no longer thought highly of him. Forget taking another step forward to become an aide to a prince—he might even lose his standing in Qin Manor and his prestige in the Literature Academy.

This time, he had even been caught up in trouble because of a youth who had only entered stillness.

What irritated Luo Qingchen was that youth... Was he worthy of sticking his foot into Luo Qingchen's Dao heart?

"Old Luo."

Luo Qingchen exhaled and called softly.

The door opened, and a burly figure stepped into the room. It was the coachman who had previously driven for him, seated upon the carriage shaft.

"Sir."

The coachman cupped his fists respectfully.

Luo Qingchen rose and used a towel to wipe away the cold sweat seeping from his body. He asked indifferently.

"I told you to watch that youth. How has he been these past few days?"