Ink Wash Bamboo and Stone Illuminates the Heart, Entering Samadhi, Then Fetal Respiration

The ink wash painting technique was something the old man, deeply immersed in the art of painting, naturally understood.

However, since ancient times, painting bamboo had primarily been done with meticulous detail, down to the fine strokes outlining each bamboo leaf, requiring careful craftsmanship.

But who would have thought that bamboo could be painted with such freehand expression, such elegance, such... wild abandon!

The leaves were like a swordsman's sword, the stalks like a gentleman's spine!

Though not realistic, the interplay of dark and light ink created a sense of depth that made this ink wash bamboo and stone painting remarkably lifelike. It was as if a gentle breeze had passed, causing the slender bamboo stalks to sway slightly, yet they remained proudly upright, transcending the mundane!

A new style of painting bamboo!

The old man suddenly snapped back to attention. He glanced at the overflowing old yellow wine in his cup, a result of his lapse in composure, but his heart was filled with satisfaction.

"What a magnificent ink wash bamboo and stone painting!"

"This wine has been most enjoyable!"

The old man drained the now-cold yellow wine in one gulp. The liquid flowed down his throat, staining his beard, and brought him immense pleasure!

At this moment, An Le had entered a peculiar state.

Outside the window, the myriad stars cast their radiance, draping over An Le like a light veil.

The young man held his brush, standing still. Within his mind, his spirit seemed to be boiling.

The spiritual power refined by the Sword Waterfall Diagram seemed to resonate with every bamboo leaf in the ink wash painting at this moment, with faint traces of sharp sword intent condensing from the artwork!

Leveraging this intent, An Le felt that his spirit refinement and visualization speed had greatly increased!

The Dao Fruit of the Sword Dancer played a crucial role at this moment, as if sword intent was seeping into the painting, allowing An Le to achieve a breakthrough in his understanding of the Sword Waterfall Diagram.

His spirit was growing at a considerable pace!

Within the Niwan Palace, the blurry little sword began to gradually solidify!

Finally, with a clang, sword light permeated the space!

An Le's spiritual state also crossed into a new realm, his five senses enhanced. He could even perceive the spiritual energy of heaven and earth without breathing through his nose or mouth.

Fetal Respiration, meaning the mind resides in stillness, returning to its origin, is the state where the mind does not stir with thoughts, coming and going without cessation, a state of settled mind and concentrated spirit.

The intent of the bamboo and stone painting, and the intent of the Sword Waterfall Diagram, complemented each other, allowing An Le to, with their aid, step into the second realm of Spirit Refinement: Fetal Respiration!

After a long while, An Le slowly opened his eyes. The strengthened spiritual power flowed, shining brilliantly in the dimness like starlight in the heavens.

An Le hadn't expected a painting to have such an effect. No wonder the old man said some famous paintings were as valuable as magical treasures. Painters could strengthen their spirits through their art, and those who viewed their paintings would naturally gain benefits.

"Clinging to the green hills without letting go, its roots firmly planted in the broken rock; through a thousand trials and ten thousand blows, it remains strong, indifferent to the winds from all directions."

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

The old man's exclamations came from the side. An Le, his spirit having reached Fetal Respiration, put down his brush and smiled.

"Thank you for your praise, Senior."

"Ink wash painting techniques are not uncommon, but painting bamboo with ink wash, without adding any color, is indeed rare."

"A good poem deserves a good painting. You, young man, have truly surprised me."

The old man nodded, carefully examining the still-wet painting, his eyes filled with uncontainable admiration.

"Yesterday, you were attacked at the entrance of Quiet Street, and Luo Qingchen used his cultivation to pressure you, trying to break your spirit. You did not yield. Seeing your painting today, I understand you have the integrity of a gentleman in your heart. No wonder you could withstand the pressure without bending your back."

"This poem and this painting are reflections of your soul, allowing your spirit to resonate so deeply that you entered Samadhi and immediately achieved Fetal Respiration."

The old man stroked his beard, praising An Le's talent for spirit refinement.

Finally, he squinted at the calligraphy of the poem at the end of the painting.

"This calligraphy... it's also peculiar and unique. Written with the momentum of running script, yet it's not running script. It even carries hints of cursive brushwork, and writing it is like painting orchids... Furthermore, although the composition of the characters seems deliberately arranged, the writing itself is like painting, a harmonious fusion of calligraphy and painting that is unprecedented in history!"

The old man's praise was exceptionally high. Of course, with his discerning eye, he could also see that An Le's calligraphy was not yet fully proficient and had room for improvement.

However, considering An Le's age, these minor flaws could be overlooked.

"Young friend An, your painting is truly something. This old man is quite fond of it..." the old man said, stroking his beard.

Seeing this, An Le immediately understood the old man's intention. "If Senior likes it, I will gift it to you. This painting finding its way into the hands of someone who appreciates it is also a form of good fortune."

The old man laughed heartily upon hearing this. "Well said, young friend An. A good painting needs a discerning eye. Of course, I won't accept your painting for free. Within this bamboo and stone painting, sword intent naturally arises. Tomorrow, I will personally bring wine and... gift you a sword?"

An Le's eyes suddenly lit up.

What was the identity of this old man? How could the sword he offered be ordinary?

An Le was certain he wouldn't be at a disadvantage trading a painting for a sword.

The old man didn't discuss anything further with An Le. Eager to share the excellent painting, he carefully rolled up the Xuan paper and bid An Le farewell, leaving the small courtyard.

Watching the old man's retreating figure, An Le smiled. After tidying up, he began to meditate and refine his spirit.

A single painting had allowed him to reach the realm of Fetal Respiration, yet An Le felt no arrogance.

Recalling the pressure Luo Qingchen had exerted on him at the entrance of Quiet Street, his current strength was far from enough.

The young man had a fierce tiger in his chest, calming his restlessness, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

Not rejoicing in external gains nor grieving over personal losses, he sat cross-legged in the small courtyard, bathing in the starlight and moonlight, settling his spirit and consolidating his Fetal Respiration.

The night was deep, and a thick fog rose, obscuring the horizon, causing the starlight and moonlight to lose their luster.

Within the crisscrossing alleys of Lin'an Prefecture, hurried footsteps suddenly sounded. A figure, completely wrapped in black, was fleeing rapidly, like a fleeting shadow of blackness streaking past.

A moment later, several constables in official uniforms, carrying sabers, arrived quickly. Blood Essence swirled around them, and a palpable killing intent emanated from their bodies.

Huang Xian's eyes were cold as he looked towards the dark and winding alleys, his brow furrowed. "He got away from Hu Jingang! Keep chasing!"

The Black Yamen constables under his command shouted in unison and dashed out, continuing their pursuit.

Huang Xian's expression softened, and he let out a breath. He took out the scroll from his bosom. The scroll was unfurled, and it depicted Hu Jingang, almost identical to the man who had just escaped.

"Young Master An's paintings are truly divine."

"With this painting and the five hundred taels of reward money, as long as Hu Jingang remains within Lin'an Prefecture, he will eventually be apprehended!"

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

Inside a luxurious manor.

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

Luo Qingchen, dressed in a thin shirt, sat cross-legged on the bed. Spiritual power surged around him, and his Blood Essence churned beneath his skin like a thunderclap.

He was attempting to use his spiritual power to cleanse the dust from his Dao heart.

Previously, he had been defeated by the legendary top scholar Li You'an with a single palm strike, causing his Dao heart to be tainted. Prime Minister Qin had brought the "East Sea Heart Cleansing Pearl" to help him wash away the dust, and in return, he had paid a price, joining the Qin Manor and becoming subject to their control.

And yesterday, he had been intimidated by Hua Jiebing's "Spring Rain Finger" sword technique. The sword intent had planted itself in his heart like a seed of fear, causing him to feel startled every time he cultivated, his Dao heart becoming tainted once more.

This was Hua Jiebing's punishment for him.

Although Luo Qingchen was unwilling, he was no match in strength, so he could only endure.

A torrent of spiritual power surged, whistling like a gale, extinguishing all the candles in the hall. Darkness, as if on cue, arrived, engulfing all light.

In the darkness, Luo Qingchen's eyes snapped open. He was covered in sweat, and large beads of it rolled down his cheeks.

He gasped for breath.

"Still no... it's still no use... The sword intent is etched into my heart, filling me with fear and trembling. Every time I cultivate, it appears like a phantom, disturbing my will... My spiritual power is not enough to erase it."

Luo Qingchen braced himself on the bed, his hair falling down. His heart was filled with extreme unwillingness.

Hua Jiebing's strength was indeed formidable; even in Lin'an Prefecture, where powerhouses were like clouds, she held a significant position.

Such an existence cast a huge shadow over him.

"Just because of a young man who had just entered samadhi, Hua Jiebing was so ruthless as to plant a seed of fear in my heart... The most venomous heart belongs to a woman! Her claim of standing up for the young man was just an excuse. It was simply because I am aligned with Prime Minister Qin that she attacked, intending to destroy my Dao heart! To ruin my future!"

"The struggle of the powerful, I am but a fish in a pond..."

Luo Qingchen closed his eyes, his anger growing with each thought. His entire body trembled slightly.

In his mind, the scene from yesterday replayed endlessly... like a nightmare gnawing at his heart.

He saw three thousand drops of sword rain, transformed into swords, slashing towards him.

He saw the carriage beside him being cut into dust by sword energy.

Finally, he also saw the young man, whose spine remained unbent under his pressure!

And the strange thing was, the young man's resolute face even overshadowed Hua Jiebing's sword intent, lingering in his mind, impossible to dispel...

His talent was originally extremely dazzling, but it had been tainted repeatedly. Now... he was probably looked down upon by many. Not to mention advancing further and becoming a counselor to a prince, he might even lose his position in the Qin Manor and his prestige in the Academy of Literature.

This time, he was also affected because of a young man who had just entered samadhi.

It made Luo Qingchen quite agitated. Did that young man even deserve to interfere with his Dao heart?

"Old Luo."

Luo Qingchen let out a breath and softly called out.

The door opened, and a burly figure stepped into the room. It was the coachman who had driven him earlier and sat at the carriage's reins.

"Sir."

The coachman cupped his fists respectfully.

Luo Qingchen got up and wiped the cold sweat from his body with a towel, asking indifferently.

"I asked you to observe that young man. What's his recent situation?"