Chapter 60: Clouds in the Sky, Water in the Vase

The world is vast, filled with wonders beyond imagination.

Chen Zhao had anticipated this, so he paid it no further mind and stepped into the alchemy chamber.

The Concealment Array hummed to life; he sat cross-legged on the mat and opened the Xuan Shui Chang Sheng Lu.

"Having chosen to trust the Divination, there is no turning back!"

This was his fifth divination, and this time he asked with greater detail.

Long silence.

His gaze was resolute; a faint gray-blue Spirit Qi spark glowed at his fingertip.

Fortunately, the Nourishing Qi Art's nature was gentle and did not conflict with it, so no need to dismantle his existing cultivation.

Chen Zhao guided the path; Spirit Qi sank inch by inch, turning each meridian it passed into ink-black.

Until a month later, he completed several major and minor celestial cycles.

And the instant he ended his practice.

In the space of his spiritual altar, a drop of ink-and-water bloomed abruptly.

Chen Zhao sensed something, and with his spiritual awareness as brush, he touched it, slowly tracing.

His arm rose unconsciously, slowly sketching in the air, imitating the Eight Principles of the Yong character.

At first it was clumsy, like spring snakes and autumn worms, but after the final pressing stroke, the momentum surged sharply, growing steadily better.

After finishing, the Yong character hung suspended in midair, solid and unvanishing.

As he willed it, its colors shifted rapidly.

"This must be the painting effect of this art—if I can paint a person lifelike enough, it could pass as real."

Chen Zhao's heart surged with excitement.

But painting and calligraphy seek artistic essence; realism is only one aspect—if I could paint with expression...

Perhaps that would be another realm entirely?

The Yong character hovered midair, vivid and alive, then suddenly slammed into the stone wall; the Defense Array shuddered violently.

"It can indeed be used for attack, though the power is modest."

He tried sketching a Condensing Qi Grass and threw it into the Pill Furnace, but no pill formed—it seemed merely solidified Spirit Qi.

Two attempts drained both his Spirit Qi and spiritual awareness.

Fortunately, his current qi channels were long-lasting; with the Kuai Xue Shi Qing Sword, he could sustain a release for over twelve breaths.

This was only the first layer!

Though his cultivation speed was slower than the Nourishing Qi Art, he had already gained seventy years of lifespan, and with pills to aid him, why worry?

"Brother Chen, are you alright?"

"No problem, just a small furnace explosion."

Chen Zhao called out loudly.

After all, the sect repairs the damage; he doesn't have to pay.

But he still needed to cover it up.

He sat before the Pill Furnace and deliberately detonated a Heqi Pill!

Boom!

Ink-and-water Spirit Qi exploded outward; medicinal fluid sprayed everywhere!

Chen Zhao lifted the Golden Light Shield, expression unchanged, instead stroking his chin in thought.

Hmm, the shield's thickness had increased by thirty percent.

"Brother, are you truly unharmed?"

Outside, He Chengdao urgently knocked on the stone door, puzzled in his heart.

Brother Chen was always renowned for his alchemy—why today did he blow up two furnaces in a row?

Could it be karma for stealing someone's prized possession?

Yet as he stared in shock, the stone door kicked open by Chen Zhao.

Thick smoke poured out; a corner of the protective array shattered, still sparking.

This karma was no small thing!

But Chen Zhao's status was considerable; even if he were a bandit, he was a branch He Chengdao could never climb to.

Of course, as a die-hard fan of Su Muqing, he held special feelings toward Chen Zhao.

He hurried forward to fan away the ash.

"Thank you, Senior Brother—I haven't practiced in a while, my touch is rusty."

Chen Zhao coughed a few times, feigning severe internal injury.

Seeing this, He Chengdao panicked—oh no! —and shouted to summon Su Muqing for rescue.

Chen Zhao quickly shouted, "Stop! Stop!"

It's already chaotic enough—if you call her, someone will write a new novel, maybe called "A Little Story After Alchemy."

"By the way, you're alone here—where's your brother?"

Seizing the moment, he quickly changed the subject.

"He went to Dan Tang for the lecture—today Elder Zhu has emerged from seclusion; seats are lined up outside the door."

He Chengdao sighed softly, a hint of melancholy in his eyes.

"Why didn't you go?"

"The Elder's lifespan is short; his words are vague and obscure, always muttering things like 'I came to ask the Dao, but have nothing more to say—clouds in the sky, water in the bottle.' I don't understand—it's pointless to go."

Chen Zhao patted his shoulder, showing sympathy.

This one is a true master of Alchemy; it's no wonder he doesn't understand.

"But the main hall of Dan Tang is so spacious—how could it possibly be too crowded?"

"All the disciples from other halls have come; if this keeps up, I'll have to go to Spirit Beast Hall and listen to the postnatal care of Spirit Horses."

The thought of other disciples understanding made He Chengdao's eyes grow even more desolate.

When Elders teach, all Outer Sect Disciples from every hall may attend as a sect benefit.

Unfortunately, these Elders have little life left, so they've all gone completely wild.

It's the old saying: the master leads you through the door, but cultivation depends on yourself.

Only if you enter the Inner Sect will an Elder take three or five disciples aside to give them special instruction and pass on real skills.

"I still advise you, younger brother, to attend—Outer Disciples have supplementary coursework beyond their own hall's lessons."

"If you complete it well, you may ask the Elder one question; but if you consistently skip, it will affect your stipend disbursement."

He Chengdao spoke with solemn gravity.

Seeing Chen Zhao had never taken his coursework seriously, he couldn't help sighing inwardly at the waste.

Chen Zhao, however, silently sneered, a flicker of frustration passing through his eyes.

His coursework was all assigned by Li Zhiwei, but she had yet to send anything.

Forget it.

Now that he was an Outer Disciple, he had only worked—never once enjoyed the perks.

He was curious to hear what Elder Zhu had to say.

Dan Tang Wu Shi Liu Dian.

Qing Yan Dian.

Before Chen Zhao even crossed the footbridge, he saw a sea of heads, all restless and shifting.

He stood at the very back, forced to gaze from afar.

Ding!

A bronze bell rang, and the entire hall fell silent.

Elder Zhu walked slowly in his Dao robe, his figure like a crane, pointing to the heavens and earth.

"Among you, some are clouds, some are water—your skills differ, but all are talented; none are mediocre."

"An orange grown south of the Huai River becomes an orange; grown north, it becomes a trifoliate orange. Without clouds, it becomes a trifoliate orange; when rain falls, it becomes an orange—all lies in the mind alone."

Indeed, an old Alchemist—his words always carry hidden meaning.

This seems to tell them to accept their fate, but in truth, it says the Dao is universal: whether you become an orange or a trifoliate orange depends entirely on your insight.

At first hearing, it does sound reasonable.

But they've only just entered—advancement is distant, and most barely understand their skills—how can they draw analogies?

Chen Zhao rubbed his temples, enduring the lecture to the end.

In the end, he still shook his head, finding it too abstract.

As for the coursework…

It required each disciple to cultivate their skill and seek insight.

Regardless of outcome or whether they attained Dao, sincerity alone would suffice for approval.

"The requirements are simple—even if you refine it into black charcoal, you can submit it. No wonder so many came."

Chen Zhao laughed bitterly.

Free small gains—why not take them?

He returned to the third floor of Juxian Pavilion and saw He Chengde holding a talisman brush, with a stack of talisman paper beside his elbow.

"Younger brother, what did you gain from the Elder's lecture?"

"It was fine—the Elder spoke in cryptic poetry; I'm still somewhat confused."

Hearing this, He Chengde's face lit up with pride.

"I sat in the front row and was blessed with the Elder's enlightenment. If you wish to understand, come join me on the second floor."

His words were veiled, almost like proselytizing.

Chen Zhao's eyelid twitched.

That stack of talisman paper wasn't cheap—this man must truly be "enlightened."

Chen Zhao sighed silently.

In this world, geniuses are as numerous as fish crossing a river; complete talents are rarer than phoenix feathers.

He knew his insight was insufficient, so he wouldn't rush to try.

"Forget it—I'll just write some characters, and that'll be enough to get by."

Calligraphy is also a Dao—it satisfies the coursework requirement.