Strange Painting

As time passed, the faithful outside showed no sign of waning; instead, as word of the incident spread, even more believers poured in.

These devotees, while bowing to the Earth Venerable, also offered a respectful salute to Feng Zhihao.

Chu Zhiyuan kept his eyes fixed on Feng Zhihao, replaying every move the man had made earlier—his incantations, his hand seals.

At the same time, he studied the statue of the Earth Venerable and a quiet room behind the Earthly Soil Hall.

That quiet room was sparsely furnished, with only a couch and a table.

On the north wall hung a landscape painting.

Under Super Sensation, he could clearly see another painting hidden beneath it.

The figure in that painting was the Earth Venerable, identical to the statue in the main hall.

In the painting, the Earth Venerable stood atop a steep peak, his foot on a giant rock, his body radiating golden light.

The golden light formed a circular mirror behind him, and within that golden mirror stretched endless mountains and rivers, vast plains, strange patterns, and bizarre characters.

Nine characters were embedded along the edge of the golden light.

Chu Zhiyuan raised an eyebrow.

He suddenly realized he could not remember this image at all.

It had the same property as the Phoenix Pattern—clear to see, but impossible to retain.

Looking again at the painting, it seemed freshly made at first glance, but upon closer inspection of its material, he could faintly sense an ancient weariness—this was an old painting.

He focused Super Sensation sharply on the painting.

Immediately, he felt a strange force blocking his probing.

He could not penetrate the painting's material.

Time continued to pass. People came and went through the Earthly Soil Hall; some noticed him, but they hurried by without paying much attention.

Chu Zhiyuan stood with his hands behind his back before the withered flower bed, his expression calm.

Zou Fang stood beside him, still silent.

Guo Chi, however, kept glaring at the main hall, itching to storm in, drag Feng Zhihao out, and slap him a few times to teach him some respect.

Chu Zhiyuan kept studying that strange painting, scrutinizing every detail, then tried to sketch it from memory.

But it was no use.

The painting could not be copied. As soon as his hand moved, the moment he formed the thought to draw it, his mind went blank, lost in confusion.

He found it more and more fascinating, so he turned his attention to the nine strange characters.

Comparing them with the ancient and foreign scripts he had read in the Tongtian Pavilion, he quickly found the nine characters in his memory: Suppress, All, Absolute, Mountain, Stream, River, River, None, Measure.

These nine characters he could write.

An hour later, Feng Zhihao walked out of the main hall, glanced at Chu Zhiyuan and his two companions, then turned and headed toward the back courtyard, showing no intention of meeting them.

"You..." Guo Chi, seeing this, flew into a rage and could no longer hold back his curses, but Chu Zhiyuan raised a hand to stop him.

Guo Chi choked back his anger, glaring fiercely at Feng Zhihao as the man leisurely departed, his figure disappearing through the Moon Gate on the east side.

He turned to look at Chu Zhiyuan.

Chu Zhiyuan shook his head. "Let's wait a little longer."

"Young Master, he... he..." Guo Chi found it utterly outrageous.

Chu Zhiyuan shook his head again. "We've waited this long; let's see it through."

Guo Chi fumed. "Young Master..."

Kindness gets walked on; gentleness gets ridden. The Young Master was just too easygoing.

Chu Zhiyuan gave a wry smile. "No need for that. I'm the one who wanted to see him, not the other way around."

"There will come a day when he wants to see you!" Guo Chi sneered.

He glanced at Zou Fang.

Zou Fang's faintly glowing face was utterly expressionless.

Clearly, she too was angered.

They all felt that Feng Zhihao, arrogant as he was, should have some limits—treating a Young Master like this was too much.

Chu Zhiyuan smiled.

As a martial artist, having a bit of a temper was normal. It wasn't as if the man had insulted him; he was just putting on airs and posturing. No need to fly into a rage.

Though inwardly annoyed, he maintained a calm and carefree demeanor.

His mind was still on that painting.

When Feng Zhihao finally emerged again, he came straight up to Chu Zhiyuan, clasped his fists, and said flatly, "I've kept the Young Master waiting long. My apologies."

Chu Zhiyuan smiled. "Young Sect Master Feng, I've long heard of your reputation. Just now, I witnessed your skill in saving the distressed, and I wished to seek your guidance on a few matters."

"Guidance is too strong a word—just a paltry skill," Feng Zhihao replied coolly, without warmth. "The Young Master is born of gold and jade; this place is no fit for you."

Chu Zhiyuan chuckled. "And why can't I come here?"

"A place this crude and coarse is hardly fit for the noble presence of Your Highness, the Heir Apparent."

"Even the noblest aren't so delicate," Chu Zhiyuan shook his head. "If I hadn't come here, how could I have witnessed with my own eyes the Young Sect Master's heroic feats of rescue?"

Feng Zhihao's mouth twitched.

He felt that Chu Zhiyuan's words were dripping with sarcasm, and they grated on his ears.

Saving someone was a good deed, but having it brought up over and over, exaggerated like this, was genuinely unpleasant.

Chu Zhiyuan said, "Might I ask what method the Young Sect Master used to so miraculously cure that Old Man's heart ailment?"

That old man had a textbook case of heart disease—a heart attack—yet under that strange, wondrous power, he had recovered swiftly, with effects like a miracle.

This kind of rapid effect on the body, even surpassing Miraculous Pills and Elixirs, filled him with curiosity.

If such power existed, it would be like having a life-saving panacea, capable of healing injuries at any time—whether wounded in combat or suffering backlash from training, it could provide timely treatment.

That would be equivalent to having several extra lives.

For that, enduring a bit of cold treatment was nothing.

Feng Zhihao's eyes instantly turned wary, and he frowned at Chu Zhiyuan.

Chu Zhiyuan smiled. "The Young Sect Master needn't force himself. Every sect has its secret traditions; I wouldn't be so tactless as to pry."

Feng Zhihao said flatly, "There's nothing that can't be said. The Thick Earth Sect acts with openness and integrity, with nothing hidden from others. It's the Imperial Heaven Earthly Soil Scripture, a practice every disciple of our sect can cultivate."

"The Imperial Heaven Earthly Soil Scripture... truly exquisite." Chu Zhiyuan nodded slowly. "I noticed the Young Sect Master performed it through Chanting and Seals, not as a martial arts inner technique, correct?"

"Our sect's cultivation differs from ordinary martial arts sects," Feng Zhihao said coolly. "Nor do we take aggression, slaughter, or killing as our foundation."

Chu Zhiyuan nodded. "The Thick Earth Sect emphasizes Virtue Carries All, and Cultivate Virtue and Heart. The Imperial Court fully approves of this."

Feng Zhihao gave a faint smile. "We're already grateful that the Imperial Court doesn't suppress us. We wouldn't dare hope for approval."

Chu Zhiyuan laughed. "The Imperial Court has always treated the Thick Earth Sect well."

"..." Feng Zhihao made no reply, only a cold smirk tugging at his lips.

Chu Zhiyuan shook his head inwardly.

This Feng Zhihao was arrogant and proud, looking down on him—was it because of Prince Qing's Estate's decline, or because he had the Thirteenth Prince and Prince Huai's Estate as his backing?

He clasped his hands. "Young Sect Master, how about we exchange a few moves?"

Feng Zhihao was taken aback.

He had assumed that Chu Zhiyuan, given his noble status, wouldn't personally fight—losing would be too shameful.

Especially since Prince Qing's Estate had been sealed for thirty years. As its Heir Apparent, he had to keep his head down and stay low-key, never showing off or drawing attention. That was why he became an official in the Ministry of Rites instead of joining the Military to earn merit.

He never expected Chu Zhiyuan to actually have the nerve to fight him.

And he himself was a Martial Arts Prodigy, one who could stand shoulder to shoulder with the True Disciples of the Four Great Sects—daring to fight him?

Chu Zhiyuan said, "I've long heard of the Young Sect Master's prodigious reputation. Since the opportunity is rare, I'll personally seek some instruction. This is also the Young Sect Master's chance."

"What chance?"

"A chance to vent your resentment."

Chu Zhiyuan looked at him with a smile.

He could clearly see that Feng Zhihao's attitude toward him wasn't just cold—it was filled with grudging anger.

As for where that anger came from?

They had no other dealings, no personal grievances. It was likely due to his own identity—he was being resented by association.

"...Your Highness truly dares to fight me?" Feng Zhihao suppressed his surging emotions and asked slowly.

"Is the Young Sect Master afraid?"

Chu Zhiyuan was still smiling, which only stoked Feng Zhihao's anger further.

The worshippers coming and going nearby had also overheard their conversation and turned to look.

Feng Zhihao narrowed his eyes, glaring coldly at Chu Zhiyuan, scrutinizing him.

Chu Zhiyuan smiled back at him.

"...Follow me!" Feng Zhihao turned and walked away.

Chu Zhiyuan followed, with Zou Fang and Guo Chi trailing behind.

They passed through the Moon Gate on the east side and arrived at a courtyard in the back.

This yard was empty and deserted, with a small Training Ground in the center, a withered flower bed on one side, and a weapon rack on the other—clearly where he usually practiced.

Feng Zhihao stopped in the middle of the yard and said flatly, "Too many people, and Your Highness would lose face if you lost. Here is fine."

After all, there was always the off chance that this Heir Apparent might actually be stronger than him.

Winning against him meant nothing, but losing would damage his own reputation as the Young Sect Master.

Chu Zhiyuan smiled. "As they say, good deeds beget good returns. The Young Sect Master's kind heart has spared himself the embarrassment of losing face."

"Let me say this in advance—I won't go easy on you just because you're the Heir Apparent."

"Then let the truth be told through our hands!"

Chu Zhiyuan turned and walked to the weapon rack, pulling out an ironwood sword.

Feng Zhihao, however, took no weapon, raising both palms to chest level.

Seeing this, Chu Zhiyuan tossed the ironwood sword back onto the rack and extended his own palms. "After you!"