The Dao Is Complete

The old blind man's brush paused. Expressionless, his hollow eyes stared ahead.

"Judging by the voice, around twenty years old. The confidence in his words does not seem to have come from nowhere, yet there is a weathered air in his speech. The gap between his physical age and the age of his heart is far too great. Such a situation could likely only belong to an immortal cultivator."

The old blind man's voice was hoarse, rough and low, as though the friction of passing years and the battering of wind and frost had left deep marks upon it.

Every word squeezed laboriously from his throat, like grains of sand scraping hoarsely together.

That raspy voice carried a profound and singular quality, making one unable to help but ponder and listen.

Chen Xun raised a brow, still carrying himself as though he had met a worthy opponent and stood before a formidable enemy.

He did not respond. This old blind man was certainly not an immortal cultivator, but an utterly ordinary mortal.

The old blind man's brush remained suspended over the painting. Even before an immortal cultivator, his expression was calm. "Why not let this old man paint a portrait for you, young sir? You already have an image in my heart."

"Please, old sir." Chen Xun looked composed, though curiosity filled his eyes. One hand still held the Life-Nourishing Tea cup, and he did not put it away.

The old blind man resumed his brush. He did not take out fresh paper, instead embellishing the original painting. With only a few strokes, a town and an alley gradually emerged beneath the ink-wash landscape...

Chen Xun's heart shook, and his attention was involuntarily drawn in. Two figures gradually appeared beyond the alley in the painting. One outline slowly took shape—it