"Cock-a-doodle-doo-"
A rooster's crow rang out from his Heart Mansion, rousing Cheng Xinzhan from his thoughts.
He glanced east. It was already morning again.
He stopped his sword and sat down once more to ingest qi.
After taking in today's purple qi, he continued carving the scripture into the cliff. But after a day and a night, he had settled on the broad course of his future. His heart grew ever steadier, and his bearing ever more transcendent and lofty.
He still divided his attention as he copied the scripture, though he no longer sank so deeply into his thoughts. He merely worked out the details of his journey to Western Kham in silence.
Once he was less absorbed, his awareness of the outside world naturally sharpened.
Before long, he felt the golden sunlight reflected off the cliff grow increasingly dazzling, warming his body, and knew that noon had arrived.
So he kept carving with his sword while sending the red-skinned gourd to hover in the air.
Like the Blood Lotus Seat, this gourd had been in two entirely different states in Shan's hands and Cheng Xinzhan's.
The gourd itself was of excellent form and substance, fitting neatly in the hand. Its upper bulb swelled like a suspended dipper, while its lower belly hung like a full moon, the two portions divided in a ratio of four to six.
Its greatest change was in its color. In Shan's hands, it had shone a vivid red, as though drenched in blood. After it came into Cheng Xinzhan's possession and he refined away its Blood Baleful Intent and demonic qi, the treasure's radiance withdrew completely, revealing its true color.
What sort of color was it?
Had Cheng Xinzhan been asked to describe it, he would have said, "The lean maple's frost-weathered hue."