At the desk beneath the ancient tree, Yi Shuyuan recorded not only what had happened, but what was happening-and even what might happen.
As he wrote of a mighty warlord rising in the former lands of Great Yan, words flowed beneath his brush, and a murderous air of steel and warhorses arose between the lines, rousing even Qi Zhongbin from his still concentration nearby.
Yi Shuyuan felt something stir within him as his brush swept across the page. It was as though he stood upon a battlefield, his brush transformed into a great spear, its moving tip a dancing blade.
Whoosh!
A black spear bent into an arc as it whirled. When its resilient shaft straightened, the trembling tip left afterimages, and the whistling of its flourishes rang distinct even amid the battlefield's sky-shaking cries of slaughter.
Thud!
The spear's keen edge swept past, severing the enemy's head from his body. As the warhorse galloped onward, the spear traced another arc, neatly catching the freshly severed head on its tip.
"The enemy commander is dead!"
The roar rang across the battlefield, utterly shattering the enemy army's morale.
Qi Zhongbin had risen and approached the desk. Merely looking at the words in the book, he seemed to sense those scenes as well.
"When will the strife beneath heaven ever end?"
"The strife beneath heaven will never end."
With that reply, Yi Shuyuan lifted his brush from the page, turned elsewhere, and continued writing. Now, however, he was not simply telling a story; it was more as though he were working through a divination.
Qi Zhongbin watched from behind him. Before long, he felt his mind drawn into it, and a trace of astonishment appeared on his face.
"Master, have you already divined where the Heavenly Battle Pill went?"
That was the