Raise the Brush, Startle Wind and Thunder; Lower It, Leave No Trace

The old blind man's ears twitched slightly. He listened to the wind, and to the rain. Tilting his head gently, he laughed aloud. "Chen Xun, do you wish to raise your brush?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then there is no need to shrink back. Take whatever brushes and ink you wish. If they are muddied, use Spirit Marsh as your brush and heaven and earth as your paper. Let your essence, qi, and spirit leap beyond heaven and earth."

"..."

Chen Xun stared blankly at the old gentleman. Without realizing it, he drew a deep breath. "All right."

He picked up a sheet of paper on the table, soaked by the fine rain. Then he took up a brush, gently stroking its tip as he sensed the flow of heaven and earth's qi.

Chen Xun raised his head. Raindrops fell upon his face, moistening his skin. He had never imagined painting in the rain; ordinarily, he would have used mana to push away the raindrops around him.

By now, his entire body was gradually drenched, yet he did not activate any mana. Wind and thunder filled all directions, and the streets and alleys had become empty.

The scene before him blurred. Chen Xun's consciousness seemed to surpass the boundaries of reality. He sensed the veins of heaven and earth, that aura of heaven and earth flowing through his heart like a trickling stream.

He closed his eyes and quietly perceived it. He felt the pulse of the earth, heard the rustle of wind through leaves, and sensed the rhythm of every raindrop striking the ground.

Rumble—

As a bolt of lightning split the heavens, his hand moved lightly. Streak after streak of ink flowed from the brush tip, while raindrops scattered onto the paper like specks of ink, blending into the painting.