Eternal Tale

The old blind man’s ears twitched slightly, listening to the wind and the rain. He gently tilted his head and laughed heartily, ”Chen Xun, do you wish to pick up the brush?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Then do not hesitate. You can take the brush and ink yourself. If they are muddled, then use the spiritual rain as your brush, the heavens and earth as your paper, and let your essence transcend beyond the world.”

”…”

Chen Xun stared blankly at the old gentleman, instinctively taking a deep breath, ”Alright.”

He picked up a piece of paper dampened by the drizzle from the desk, took up the brush, and gently stroked the tip, feeling the flow of the world’s energy.

Chen Xun looked up, raindrops falling on his face, nourishing his skin. Painting in the rain was something he had never considered; usually, he would use mana to repel the surrounding raindrops.

Now, he was gradually soaked, without using any mana. The sound of thunder and wind filled the surroundings, leaving the streets and alleys deserted.

The scenery before him blurred, and Chen Xun’s consciousness seemed to transcend the boundaries of reality. He felt the veins of the world, the aura of heaven and earth flowing like a gentle stream in his heart.

He closed his eyes, calming his mind to sense the pulse of the earth, hearing the rustling of the wind through the leaves, feeling the rhythm of each raindrop colliding with the ground.Rumble~~

With a flash of lightning tearing through the sky, he gently waved his hand, and lines of ink flowed from the brush tip. Raindrops fell onto the paper, merging into the painting like dots of ink.

As his brush touched the paper, the entire world seemed to tremble. The fine rain became his ink, scattering across the paper, as crystalline as glass.

Chen Xun felt the rain’s moisture, sensing the world’s veins, the subtle connections and flows between all things, as if he could hear every raindrop’s collision with the paper.

The rainwater overflowed from the paper, forming flowing rivers, with mountains and clouds appearing on the paper.

Chen Xun’s ink seemed to possess vitality, flowing and merging unrestrictedly, creating exquisite and magnificent scenes.

The rainwater left faint marks on the paper, like rivers and lakes on the earth. Chen Xun unhesitatingly wielded his brush, integrating these watermarks into the painting, as if the water of heaven and earth flowed across the paper.

Chen Xun continued to use the spiritual rain as his brush to outline the vast stars in the sky, the undulating peaks of mountains, and the rushing rivers.

As the rain poured, the painting gradually became fuller, with the breath of life circulating within.

Chen Xun constantly adjusted his posture and brushwork, as if conversing with the heavens and earth, dancing with the Dao.

His eyes revealed unparalleled focus and dedication, as if the world contained only him and the paper.

The wind and rain intertwined, and Chen Xun’s ink became deeper, each stroke carrying unique power and meaning, with endless mysteries flowing between the strokes.

The rain continued to drench his hair and robe, but Chen Xun remained unmoved, his eyes shining with light.

He was deeply moved by what he had created, realizing that this world was his canvas, every raindrop his paint, and all living things his embellishers.

The old gentleman’s words made sense now; seeing more only shackled the world within one’s heart. It was better to leave it to the world, to let nature take its course, and the path of painting would form naturally.

Chen Xun lacked this point, only able to use his celestial eyes to trace the veins, formless and unintentional.

Yet, the painting should be a world, one that could evolve like the real world.

Such a path of painting had completely transcended worldly ideas, achievable only by cultivators with magical artifacts and great mana, yet still far from perfect.

If such a painting truly existed, it might be worthy of being called an immortal artifact!

Chen Xun continued to wield his brush, and as the tip danced, the world seemed to turn upside down, with the veins of mountains and rivers appearing within, and the scenery on the paper leaping to life...

The rain became more turbulent, and sheets of paper shattered in the wind and rain, but neither the old blind man nor Chen Xun, though soaked, felt constrained by a single piece of paper.

”Chen Xun, what is the world in your heart? What scene does your painting depict?”

”Old sir, the world in my heart is a plot of fertile land, a thatched cottage, a family. The painting depicts the scene of spiritual rain’s transformation, but I have only just begun.”

”I see. The world in my heart is boundless.”

”Hmm?!” Chen Xun paused his brush, looking up heavily, word by word, ”Old sir, what is boundless?”

”Starting from the brush, extending infinitely far, encompassing all things, with no end, unrestricted, wherever the heart desires, it extends there.”

”Old sir, you are truly free-spirited. My mindset cannot reach such heights.”

”Haha, you can tell me about it.”

”All things in the world have an end, and where the heart desires also has a final point.”

”Hmm...”

The old blind man nodded slightly, his empty eyes filled with rainwater. The rain had become too heavy to continue painting. He coughed twice, ”It’s a pity I cannot see your painting.”

”It has returned to the wind and rain. The current scene before you is all my painting.”

”...Haha, cough, cough...”

The old blind man wanted to laugh heartily, but the rain choked him. He placed his hands on the desk, ”In that case, I have seen it. This painting is quite good.”

”Haha, old sir, I am never modest about my painting skills. Now that you have seen my work, you are only three points behind me.”

”Raising the brush to stir wind and thunder, the brush falls silently, returning the painting to the world. Truly the way of immortality, incomparable to my mundane path. Chen Xun, I am indeed three points behind you.”

The old blind man spoke openly, not caring about such things. He never painted to compete or argue with anyone; it held no meaning for him.

But people are always different from each other. For instance, Chen Xun was different from the old blind man. He laughed heartily in the rain and cupped his hands, ”Old sir, I concede.”

The old blind man also smiled slightly, making a peculiar gesture of cupping his hands, ”I have seen this painting and remembered it in my heart.”

”Then, old sir, shall we head back?”

Chen Xun glanced at the messy desk, ”Ink and paper, I fear we’ll have to buy more once the weather clears.”

”I still have some savings, enough to last the rest of my life.” The old blind man picked up the cane beside him, his body shivering slightly, his face turning pale, ”Once the rain stops, I’ll go to the market outside the alley to buy some cheap goods.”

As he finished speaking, a warm sensation arose within him, even feeling that the raindrops were becoming smaller, and the wind and rain no longer as cold.

”Old sir, you are mistaken. Your body is so robust, not yet seventy. From what I see, you have at least fifty more years, with great years ahead. How can you speak of the rest of your life?”

”Thank you for your kind words, Chen Xun. Let’s go.”

”Alright.”

Chen Xun supported the staggering old blind man, and they walked step by step into the alley, where the ground was filled with puddles, and one could easily step into many of them.

After sending the old blind man back, Chen Xun used a spell to dry his clothes, as effective as those talisman tools, which the old blind man couldn’t afford.

The old blind man sat inside, smiling faintly, his empty gaze looking into the unknown, sitting alone on a wooden chair, sighing wistfully, ”An immortal, Chen Xun... truly a name filled with mystery.”

He leaned on his cane, silent, listening to the sound of wind, thunder, and heavy rain, beginning to draw on the ground with his cane, undisturbed by external matters.