The Old Man of the Imperial Ancestral Temple Shows Off His Painting in the Pavilion, Madam Hua Startles the Young Man on the Couch

The cold light of the moon flowed like frost, casting shadows on the low eaves and winding corridors.

The evening breeze parted the twilight clouds, and the moonlight poured down, bathing Luo Qingchen, who stood by the window.

The coachman, a burly man, cupped his fist in greeting.

"The young man is doing as usual. He moved out of the inn today and into a residence in Tai Miao Alley. He still goes to the Lin Manor to paint for work every day."

The coachman seemed to recall something and added, "Oh, right. This young man also drew three wanted posters for the Black Yamen, helping to apprehend criminals."

Leaning against the windowsill, Luo Qingchen couldn't help but shake his head at the coachman's words.

"This young man is truly unaffected, living such a comfortable life... My Dao heart is tainted because of him, so why should he be living so comfortably?"

"It's hard to let go."

The unresolved feelings burned within him like a fire.

His tainted Dao heart made him need to vent his emotions.

Luo Qingchen walked to the window, hands behind his back, gazing at the night sky veiled by twilight clouds, and slowly said, "Old Luo, you just said he drew pictures for the Black Yamen to help capture criminals?"

The coachman cupped his fist respectfully. "Yes, the paintings were lifelike. It's difficult for that criminal to hide, and he's doomed."

"With Hua Jiebing protecting him, if I were to make a move against the young man again, Hua Jiebing would surely dare to kill me."

"It seems Hua Jiebing is going to be this young man's protector..."

"The dignified Jade Guanyin deigns to protect a youth who only began his cultivation enlightenment at eighteen, broke through Qi and Blood, and barely entered Samadhi..."

"She must truly appreciate this young man."

Luo Qingchen raised his hand as if to grasp the moonlight spilling onto the windowsill, his eyes devoid of much emotion.

"The Black Yamen hunts cultivators in the martial world, all of whom are vicious and evil. If this young man draws for the Black Yamen, and a criminal kills him because of it, wouldn't that be justifiable?"

Inside the room, the coachman was stunned for a moment.

"Go, make proper arrangements. Since Hua Jiebing appreciates this young man so much, perhaps the key to cleansing my tainted Dao heart lies with this young man."

Luo Qingchen waved his hand.

The coachman bowed with his fist. "Yes."

Just as An Le was immersed in consolidating his newly breakthrough Fetal Respiration realm, the old man took the painting and left the small courtyard, brimming with excitement and a joyful expression.

He did not return to the Imperial Ancestral Temple. The octagonal, double-eaved, spire-roofed Imperial Ancestral Temple building was brightly lit, with flames dancing within and incense smoke curling lazily. However, he walked straight past the entrance of the Imperial Ancestral Temple and onto Qingbo Street.

"Young friend An's painting, although it doesn't contain much spiritual power, its preciousness lies in its depiction of bamboo with ink, enough to form its own unique style. Furthermore, the calligraphy inscribed on it also possesses a distinct flavor, both strange and upright, not mere scribbles."

"A painting of bamboo like this must be shown to that old fellow from the Academy of Literature for his appraisal."

The old man stood on Qingbo Street, a smile appearing on his face. He then walked towards the Academy of Literature, his speed increasing, the bluestone ground beneath his feet seeming to compress and stretch.

In a short while, he arrived at the Academy of Literature.

The Academy of Literature, also known as the Academy, was founded eight thousand years ago. After the emperor who unified the four seas and regulated cultivation established the Academy of Literature and the Temple of Martial Arts, he died shortly after.

Subsequent dynasties continued to uphold the Academy of Literature and the Academy of Martial Arts. Countless children from prominent families and heavenly prodigies from noble clans would choose to enter the Academy of Literature or the Temple of Martial Arts for cultivation based on their strengths.

Currently, most high-ranking officials and nobles in the court hailed from the Academy of Literature and the Temple of Martial Arts.

The old man passed through the white jade archway of the Academy of Literature and, as if familiar with the way, headed towards a secluded pavilion. Upon reaching the entrance, he was informed by a young attendant that the pavilion was empty.

"Senior, my teacher left the Academy of Literature to visit the Sixth Mountain Lord three days ago," the young attendant said respectfully.

The old man heard this and stroked his long eyebrows. "I should have gone directly to the Sixth Mountain. What a wasted trip."

Muttering to himself, the old man's feet seemed to trail smoke and clouds, with wisps of colorful mist encircling him in the darkness.

In the next instant, he shot straight up into the sky, disappearing into the vast expanse, and left Lin'an Prefecture.

The twilight clouds receded, revealing the clear, cold night. The Milky Way silently turned its jade disk.

Sixth Mountain.

Ranked sixth under the Sacred Mountain, hence its name, Sixth Mountain.

There was a clearing on the mountain, and in the clearing stood a leisure pavilion. Under the rotation of the stars, the pavilion seemed to have existed since ancient times, untouched by time and years.

The old man landed gracefully on the mountain clearing, his plain robe fluttering in the wind.

Within the leisure pavilion, two figures were engaged in a game of Go. One was a venerable old man dressed in scholarly robes, with a head full of white hair and wrinkles etched deeply onto his face by the passage of time.

The elder was currently holding the white pieces, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The other person, dressed in white, appeared to be a youth. He was meticulous and solemn, with a massive pine wood sword box strapped to his back. He sat on a carved stone chair in the leisure pavilion, looking somewhat peculiar.

"Hahaha! Old fellow, you are indeed here!"

As soon as the old man's feet touched the ground, he burst into laughter to attract their attention.

However, the two figures in the pavilion did not even spare him a glance.

"Do not pretend you don't see me! I am not here to fight you this time, old man. I have something good to share!"

The old man was so annoyed by their dismissive attitude that he was practically hopping.

"Zhao Huangting, stop making a fuss. I'm about to win this game against the Sixth Mountain Lord. If you keep bothering me, I'll lose again," the old man in the scholar's robe said without even looking up, his tone quite disdainful.

"Bah! You old half-mountain fool, you rotten chess player, don't try to blame me!"

The old man immediately retorted angrily. Ever since he arrived, this quiet mountain pavilion under the stars and moon had become much noisier.

In the pavilion, the middle-aged man carrying the pine wood sword case maintained his usual calm demeanor, as if nothing could stir his inner peace.

Old man Zhao Huangting thought for a moment, stepped into the pavilion, took out a scroll, and slowly unrolled it.

"You all know that my painting of bamboo is superb, but today, I've chanced upon an ink bamboo and stone painting. I've painted bamboo with ink wash, so please take a look."

The old man raised his chin and said.

The scroll was unfurled.

A gentle breeze stirred, seeming to carry the rustling sound of a bamboo sea, accompanied by the clanging of sword intent and the unyielding spirit of a gentleman.

The elder, dressed in a scholar's robe, with a white piece in his hand, paused his move.

From the sword case behind the middle-aged man in white, sword energy suddenly flowed out. The sword case trembled slightly, as if a sword's hum could be faintly heard.

A flicker of surprise flashed in the eyes of both the elder and the middle-aged man in white.

They turned their heads to the side, towards the unrolled scroll illuminated by the stars and moonlight.

The next day.

The spring sun shone warmly upon the earth.

An Le slowly opened his eyes in the courtyard. The old locust tree was lush and verdant, swaying gently in the spring breeze, scattering a fresh scent in the morning light.

After consolidating his mind for a night, the second stage of Spirit Refinement, Fetal Respiration, had been successfully stabilized.

His once turbulent spiritual power had also calmed down considerably, flowing like a gentle stream.

He stood up and practiced the Five Animal Frolics in the courtyard: Tiger Style, Bear Style, Deer Style, Monkey Style, and Bird Style. All were performed with surging Blood Essence and wind-carrying strength.

However, he did not draw upon the Demonic Qi within the Quenching Demon Jade to temper his body. The main reason was that he was about to go to the Lin Manor to paint for work, and if he tempered his body, he would end up covered in blood, which would be quite troublesome.

After finishing the Five Animal Frolics, An Le's body felt like a furnace, radiating heat.

He exhaled a breath of turbid air. The spiritual power of the Fetal Respiration realm made An Le's entire demeanor even more ethereal.

Holding a sage book for the imperial examinations, An Le read as he left his small courtyard. After eating a bowl of douhua at the entrance of the Imperial Ancestral Temple alley for breakfast, he walked towards West Lake while reading.

West Lake under the dawn light sparkled, and the ripples from the flower boats shone brilliantly. An Le walked along the long dike of West Lake, reading his books, which was a uniquely pleasant and insightful experience.

Along the embankment, many scholars and poets had already gathered, some reciting poems and essays, others discussing flowers and flirting, and gossiping about the recent interesting events in Lin'an Prefecture.

An Le's strengthened spiritual power even inadvertently overheard discussions related to himself, specifically about the Lin Manor's recruitment of a painter.

He smiled and reined in his spiritual power.

By the banks of fireworks and willows, he quietly read the sage books.

A moment later, Fairy Yun Rou arrived on her sword, as promised. An Le, holding his book, glanced over. By continuously extracting Time Qi, his strengthened spiritual power allowed him to draw three strands of Time Qi from Fairy Yun Rou today.

He had improved from "twice a day" to "thrice a day"!

An Le's lips curved upwards, and he was in a great mood.

Fairy Yun Rou landed on the flower boat, felt something, and then saw the handsome and elegant young cultivator.

She hadn't seen him yesterday, and he was here again today. Although he was a cultivator, he only observed from a distance, which was quite unusual.

Fairy Yun Rou nodded slightly at An Le before turning and entering the flower boat. Then, a clear and ethereal zither melody drifted out, echoing over West Lake, as if summoning the sky's rain.

After finishing his daily "plucking" from Fairy Yun Rou, An Le headed towards the Lin Manor.

Today, he had drawn three strands of Time Qi from Fairy Yun Rou, adding to the original eleven strands, making a total of fourteen. With his substantial reserves, An Le pondered how to allocate them on his way to the Lin Manor.

The same charming maid opened the door. Seeing An Le, her pretty face blushed slightly.

An Le smiled gently, "Good morning, Liu Xiang."

"G-Good morning, Young Master An," the maid replied.

Tianbo Water Pavilion.

The large pond rippled, and schools of colorful carp swayed leisurely in the emerald green water, creating waves.

In the main hall, the morning cross-breeze carried wisps of spring coolness.

Madam Hua, wearing a light shirt and with her embroidered shoes removed, revealing her crystal-clear white soles, lay on her couch, studying the "Book of Rites" by a great scholar from the Academy of Literature.

Suddenly, Madam Hua paused for a moment, her delicate eyebrows furrowing. Her spiritual sense spread out, and she sensed the young man in green who had just entered the Lin Manor, his aura vigorous and as if he had been reborn.

Hmm?

Madam Hua's expression froze, and a hint of disbelief flickered in her beautiful eyes.

"He only entered Samadhi a few days ago, and today he has already stabilized Fetal Respiration?"

"Could this young man be a genius in Spirit Refinement?!"