On a late-spring evening, the streets of the Capital shed their daytime clamor. The willow branches along the roads swayed gently in the breeze, as though whispering stories of the Capital.
Li Mogui, the Masterful Brush Scholar, trudged through the winding alleys toward his residence.
His elderly servant, Uncle Zhang, was already waiting at the entrance. Seeing him return, he hurried forward with a concerned smile. "Master, you're back."
Li Mo merely nodded, his expression weary and grave, and headed straight for his bedroom as though he had not heard Uncle Zhang's greeting.
Watching him leave, Uncle Zhang frowned slightly, privately wondering what thorny trouble his master had encountered that day.
Li Mogui entered his bedroom and shut the door behind him. Silence settled over the room, broken only by the candle flame on the table fluttering gently in the breeze.
He approached the bed and drew a small, antique jade bottle from his robes. Delicate patterns carved into its surface shimmered faintly in the candlelight.
He pulled out the stopper, poured out a vermilion pill, and swallowed it without hesitation. Then he sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, focused his mind, and began circulating his cultivation art to regulate his breathing.
He had paid a considerable sum to purchase these pills from a medicine merchant. They were said to help people break through bottlenecks and improve their strength at critical moments.
Whenever he encountered a powerful enemy or felt his cultivation had stalled, he would take one, and the effects had always been remarkable.
Yet after taking the pill today, he could not enter that clear, self-forgetting state of cultivation. Scenes of his encounter with the young man earlier that day kept surfacing in his mind.
Li Mo had roamed the martial world for years. Through effort