Chapter 557: A Jiao Serpent Enters the Xie Mansion, the Second Master

Xie Renfeng's face darkened and asked, "What does Master want with him?"

The green-clad servant bowed respectfully and replied, "Master and his guest need a scribe boy in the pavilion; Lady Li's sixth daughter said Master Guan excels in calligraphy, so we've been sent to invite you."

"Calligraphy?"

Xie Renfeng silently pondered—he knew servants would never dare bring you here without orders.

Yet after Father returned, neither his son nor his daughter appeared, nor did Mother, yet he summoned a stranger—this stirred resentment in him.

He thought of how, since childhood, Father had always treated him coldly; his two elder brothers revered and feared Father, so Xie Renfeng had pushed himself harder in study and cultivation, hoping only for a single glance or a word of praise.

But the more he cultivated, the more he studied.

Xie Renfeng's five fingers clenched into a fist inside his sleeve, turning his knuckles white.

The youngest in the Great Qi to ignite the Divine Flame, a Primordial Spirit cultivator, triple first-place laureate in imperial examinations, northern minister who repelled a marquis's border claim across a thousand miles, western envoy greeted by the White Crane Princess, author whose prose crowned thirteen provinces at sixteen—dear friend of the Second Master…

One after another title, Father's figure grew ever taller in his heart; he chased desperately, until the distance became unbridgeable.

Gan Zhi whispered gently, "Young Master…"

They couldn't block the guest Father had summoned at the gate.

Xie Renfeng gave you a cold glance, then finally stepped aside to clear the path.

You passed by.

Xie Renfeng stared straight ahead.

A voice echoed in your ear: "Xie Guan, I'm taking both your life and Wu Tong's."

You paused slightly at the name Wu Tong, yet your face remained calm as you followed the servant through the main gate of Dengchun Pavilion.

Xie Renfeng watched your retreating back like a wolf.

Gan Zhi had served Xie Renfeng since childhood; she knew the young master would never let go of the incident when you refused Wu Tong entry to the Second Courtyard.

Now seeing you enter Dengchun Pavilion, she knew Xie Renfeng was already furious, filled with loathing toward you.

She whispered, "Young Master, shall we wait here any longer? The wind is strong—why not return later, lest you fall ill?"

Xie Renfeng smoothed his expression into an unnerving calm.

"A son seeking his father is only natural."

With that, he straightened his robes, closed his eyes, and stood silently at the gate.

You entered Dengchun Pavilion and saw it resembled a refined courtyard; the servant bowed even lower, reverent beyond measure.

"Master Guan, please enter on your own—I'll wait here," he said, halting before a bamboo pavilion.

Before the bamboo door grew a peach tree.

Beneath it slept a sturdy black donkey, snoring like a drumbeat.

Servants had already announced your arrival within.

You murmured thanks, gently pushed open the bamboo door, and stepped inside.

The room was small, centered by a single desk with two plain chairs flanking it.

Behind the desk sat Xie Hong, intently studying several lines of calligraphy, his brow slightly furrowed.

On the two chairs sat two people—a man and a woman.

The woman you already knew: Lu Hua, wearing a white gauze hat, holding a book, yawning repeatedly; upon seeing you, she acted as if she didn't recognize you at all.

On the other chair sat a figure in black robes, tall, hooded, face entirely concealed, gender indiscernible.

The black-robed figure raised his head slightly; beneath the hood, only two golden eyes glowed, radiating a piercing, soul-shaking light.

Your gazes met—you felt the world spin, surroundings blurring rapidly, as if stepping into morning mist, unable to discern anything before you.

You lifted your head again.

In the haze, a pair of golden "lanterns" ignited amid white fog, accompanied by the stench of blood and the rustle of scales—revolting, making your stomach churn.

In an instant!

A colossal serpent, coiled like seven or eight stories high, burst from the mist—its head bore twin bumps, its belly three delicate white claws, its aura overwhelming.

"Jiao serpent!"

You had no time to examine it—the great serpent lunged; your heart surged, your Primordial Spirit trembled, nearly losing its hold.

"This…" your spirit could not hold.

At that critical moment, a faint glimmer flashed deep in your mind, then blazed brighter, forming a long sword that cleaved through the fog.

The Jiao serpent hissed, its vertical pupils fixed on the blade-light, showing clear fear.

A sense of clarity slowly rose in your chest, your soul regaining its lucidity.

You immediately activated the "Nourishing Will Spirit Turtle Talisman" and the "Five Dragon Prosperity Talisman" from the Yin Fu Jing—one to calm the mind, one to strengthen essence, spirit, and vigor, barely stabilizing your Primordial Spirit.

"If you seek death, don't drag me into it."

"This is Bianjing, not your domain."

A languid female voice drifted from beneath the white gauze hat.

Instantly, the terrifying illusion vanished—you returned to the bamboo pavilion, everything as before.

Though your head spun dizzily, you clenched your teeth and stood firm, showing no sign of weakness, regaining composure.

The hooded man's golden vertical pupils slowly returned to ordinary black round eyes; he gazed deeply at you, then lowered his head, his face vanishing once more into the hood's shadow.

You were stunned inside, yet your face betrayed nothing.

Who was this man? Had he reached the pinnacle of Primordial Spirit cultivation?

What, exactly, was that "great serpent" in the illusion?

You calmly bowed to Xie Hong: "Xie Guan greets Uncle Mingshan."

Xie Hong slowly raised his head, his expression dim, as if burdened by heavy worries.

"Xie Guan, you're quite good."

Had Xie Renfeng heard this, he'd be shocked—Father Xie Hong had rarely praised anyone in all these years.

Yet Xie Hong changed tone, shook his head, and sighed: "But pity—you shouldn't have been born into the Xie family."

Lu Hua, beside you, smiled faintly: "It's you, Master Xie, who shouldn't have been born into the Xie family—why blame him?"

Xie Hong nodded in agreement: "Yes, I, Xie Hong, shouldn't have been born into the Xie family."

You were secretly astonished—this woman, Lu Hua, was even more inscrutable than you'd thought. Before Master Xie, she showed no fear, only calmness, daring to speak such words—and Xie Hong didn't anger.

You wondered: who was she? From the Three True Teachings of Da Sui? Why had she come to Bianjing of the Great Qi?

Lu Hua spoke again: "Master Xie, you still have time to change your mind."

"I don't care either way—I came to Bianjing just to see the scenery."

The black-robed man looked up at Xie Hong.

Xie Hong shook his head: "My resolve remains unchanged."

The black-robed man slowly lowered his head, silent again.

You caught a glimpse of the lower half of his face as he raised his head—covered in fine silver scales.

You showed no shock, only a thought arose—Demon Seed?

You'd heard Xie Yuan mention: Demon Seeds, born from spirits, grow by devouring human hearts, gradually taking human form.

When they reach the Great Demon realm, they're nearly indistinguishable from ordinary people.

At that moment, Xie Hong turned to you: "Your insights on benevolent scholars you shared in Hongjing Courtyard were excellent."

"I summoned you today because I heard you excel in calligraphy—I'd like you to write for me."

Xie Hong had already prepared brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, waiting quietly.

You bowed slightly, stepped toward the desk, and your gaze instantly locked onto the characters on the paper—your eyes trembled.

The strokes were powerful, revealing the writer's profound skill—you judged this must be Xie Hong's own hand.

You'd long heard Xie Hong was famed for calligraphy and prose, a close friend of the Second Master; his calligraphy, especially in regular script, was exceptional, and he also mastered clerical, running, and cursive scripts.

His style was now called "Kai Hong Script," wildly popular among the people.

The Third Master of the Academy praised: "All learn the Zhongnan Post, seeking to shed mortal bones without Golden Core—yet who knew the Xie boy of Bianjing, brush in hand, already reached the black silk border?"

The Zhongnan Post was written by the Second Master during his pilgrimage to Zhongnan Mountain to honor Prince Yan, Lu Chen, later copied and spread across the land.

Calligraphy lovers everywhere enshrined it as sacred scripture.

You studied the characters closely—clear strokes, strict structure, the words themselves familiar.

"The heart cannot hold two paths; those who sacrifice themselves to serve the world's good, though dying, feel no regret."

"When a good thought arises, recognize it and expand it; when an evil thought arises, recognize it and suppress it."

"Breaking bandits in the mountains is easy; breaking the bandits within the heart is hard."

These few lines revealed Xie Hong's calligraphic style: elegant, firm, and vigorous.

The copybook Dong Shao gave you was said to be his imitation of the Second Master's rubbings.

The Second Master's characters were formless yet spirit-filled—spirit, not form, mattered.

The First Master once praised: "The supreme model of all ages—critics say his brushwork floats like drifting clouds, leaps like startled dragons. Whoever gains even a fraction becomes a master of the age—these are no longer human characters!"

Their styles were utterly different.

In the Great Qi's calligraphy world, it was agreed: if one favored regular script, Xie Hong's name was the unmovable "Buzhou Mountain"—only after mastering his technique and grasping its essence could one enter the Second Master's path.

You stared at the characters, inwardly filled with reverence for Xie Hong's calligraphic mastery.

Fame is never false.

Xie Hong spoke slowly: "Fish, I desire. Bear's paw, I also desire. But if I cannot have both, I forsake the fish and choose the bear's paw."

You picked up the brush, ground the ink; with Xie Hong's characters before you, you wrote with absolute focus, undistracted.

Xie Hong stepped beside the desk, gazed at your writing—his dim eyes suddenly gleamed, and a faint smile touched his lips.

【"Written well!"】

【"All who study his calligraphy first learn regular script to establish a foundation before daring to emulate his style."】

【"But no one knew he had never copied a single calligraphy model since childhood—he wrote purely from instinct."】

【"You are the same: you never learned any other script. Like a calf unaware of danger, you captured his true spirit."】

【His calm tone finally showed a ripple.】

【Lu Hua stepped closer to look, then chuckled: "Indeed—brushstrokes radiating in eight directions, like sails in a storm, horses in battle—like a widow who lost her virtue."】

【This remark was the Grand Master of the Academy's unconventional assessment of the Second Master's calligraphy.】

【The four Masters of the Academy each had vastly different temperaments.】

【The Grand Master of the Academy was free-spirited and unrestrained, fond of traveling far and wide, recording the world's wonders with ink and brush. His travelogues stirred the nation, and he once wrote: "A true man should face the azure sea in the morning and the purple mountains by night."】

【The Second Master of the Academy lived like a wandering knight, roaming the four seas, making his home wherever he went, settling scores with swift and decisive action.】

【The Third Master of the Academy was strict and disciplined, born into a noble northern family, a man of all talents, never given to laughter. During his travels across the states, he once held the seal of chancellor in six kingdoms.】

【The Fourth Master of the Academy is none other than Su Xiang today—a chess master unmatched in the world. Once merely a scholar in a humble alley, he always wore a warm smile.】

【You paused your brush, suspended it in midair, and pondered. This line is the essence of the Sacred Words, and beyond it lies deeper meaning: "Life is what I desire; righteousness is also what I desire. If both cannot be had together, I forsake life and choose righteousness."】

【Xie Hong let out a sigh, but did not recite the following lines.】

【Xie Hong whispered: "Man follows the Earth; the Earth follows Heaven; Heaven follows the Dao; the Dao follows Nature."】

【"Heaven and Earth have no benevolence—they treat all things as straw dogs. The Sage has no benevolence—he treats the people as straw dogs."】

【You lifted your brush again and wrote these lines onto paper, yet a flicker of doubt arose in your heart: such words were not recorded in Confucian classics, but belonged to Daoist teachings.】

【Upon hearing this, Lu Hua gave a soft smile.】

【Xie Hong continued: "I never imagined the self-nature was inherently pure; I never imagined the self-nature was neither born nor destroyed; I never imagined the self-nature was inherently complete; I never imagined the self-nature was unmoving; I never imagined the self-nature gives rise to all dharmas."】

【You wrote swiftly, without pause. Over the past two years, aside from the Confucian Four Books and Five Classics, you had also read other texts—this passage came from the Sixth Patriarch Huineng's Platform Sutra, a Buddhist scripture teaching that the original mind is self-sufficient and gives rise to all phenomena.】

【Xie Hong's voice continued: "Victorious armies first secure victory before seeking battle; defeated armies first fight and then seek victory."】

【You wrote rapidly—the essence of military strategy, revealing that a skilled commander must first ensure he cannot be defeated, perceive opportunities before they arise, and never let a single chance slip away.】

【Xie Hong turned around and said coolly: "That's all."】

【You slowly set down your brush.】

【Xie Hong glanced at your work, then looked up at you and said: "You may go. Thank you for your trouble."】

【He paused, then added: "I know you've been studying his calligraphy. I have here a copybook he wrote with his own hand—consider it your payment for today."】

【Xie Hong pulled from behind his desk a heavy wooden box of yellow wood, opened it with a wistful expression, and inside lay a scroll tied with a red cord.】

【You received the copybook from Xie Hong with reverence, bowed deeply, and said: "Thank you, Uncle Mingshan."】

【Your eyes burned with eagerness; clutching the copybook, you took your leave and stepped out of the bamboo hut.】

(End of Chapter)