Chapter 263: A Talisman
An osmanthus island was like being at the bottom of a large bowl, with seawater as the bowl's walls.
All the passengers could very well become a meal for those dragon descendants.
It would be a long-awaited feast.
The seawater beneath Osmanthus Island and the ferry had come to a standstill, motionless, while all around were the cold, piercing gazes cast from the Jiaolong Trench.
The situation was extremely delicate. On Osmanthus Island, silence reigned—there was both resentment and complaint toward the island, as well as a bewildered sense of calamity descending from the heavens. Some people were quietly calculating their own interests, weighing their protective talismans, trying to snatch benefits from the fire. If they succeeded in surviving to the end, setting aside the island's treasury, simply grabbing a few bodies of Qi refiners would already be an enormous fortune.
At the forefront, the always reserved manager Aunt Gui hovered before the seawater cliff, facing off against the golden old flood dragon. Their conversation was obscure, definitely not the elegant speech of any continent; it was most likely an ancient dragon's unique language, which the various schools of thought in that era had elegantly called "Water Sounds." As for why Aunt Gui was proficient in it and dared to go deep into enemy territory alone to confront so many flood dragons, the passengers on Osmanthus Island had already stopped caring deeply. They wished this plain-looking woman would suddenly transform into a fifth-tier realm cultivator, turn the tide, and then lead Osmanthus Island out of this damned Jiaolong Trench.
The woman seemed to be having difficulty communicating with the golden old dragon. She was suppressing her anger with great effort, trying to keep her tone steady, and said slowly, "Is there really no room for negotiation? According to records, the Fan family has dragged back as many as twelve rain-bringing flood dragon corpses for you. Over all these years, whenever passing through your Jiaolong Trench, the Fan family's ferrymen have always scattered a large number of silver foil folded papers as tribute to your cloud-riding and rain-bringing offerings. Not once have we missed…"
The old dragon, covered in golden scales, indeed had eyes as large as winnowing baskets, filled with cold indifference. "Rules are rules. If rules could be disregarded, would this Jiaolong Trench even exist in the world?"
Aunt Gui wanted to argue further, but the golden old dragon raised a claw and slammed it heavily into the water. Instantly, the currents surged and a fierce wind rose. Aunt Gui, standing firm against the wind, felt the oncoming wind and waves slap her cheeks with a stinging pain. But from start to finish, she did not raise a hand to block, nor did she use any Earth Immortal realm divine abilities to dodge. She simply withstood the old dragon's wrath head-on.
The old dragon sneered coldly, "Someone deliberately set up your Osmanthus Island. I'm not blind; I could see it at a glance. But rules are rules. Your Osmanthus Island failed to recognize the true nature of a person, allowing a ferry passenger to use a Dragon King Basket without permission to capture a young dragon, breaking the rules between us. Lady Gui, you may leave alone. All the living beings on that ferry must die here."
Aunt Gui shook her head. "I will not abandon them."
The old dragon's eyes were filled with ice-cold mockery, along with a scorching gaze reminiscent of a gourmet eyeing a delicacy—cold and hot alternatingly flickering. "I know, that's why I said it. Lady Gui, do you know how much willpower it takes every time you pass overhead, when I have to strictly abide by the rules, honor those few broken iron laws, and restrain myself from eating you?"
Aunt Gui asked one last time, "No room for discussion?"
The golden old dragon slowly shifted its mountain-ridge-like body; its two dragon whiskers trailed lazily in the clear seawater, shimmering with precious light. It glanced at a small boat not far behind the woman. On it, the ferryman had already been brutally killed. The passenger was a shifty-eyed man, looking timid, glancing left and right. In his hand, he held a small basket resembling a cricket cage, made of ivory, exquisite and cute.
A young dragon, originally six or seven zhang long, after being captured, had shrunk within the Dragon King Basket to the size of a loach, thrashing and struggling, constantly letting out mournful cries.
The old ferryman who had been rowing for Gold Grain and Chen Ping'an was now standing on the water surface next to that man's small boat, guarding strictly, absolutely unwilling to let the culprit escape.
As for why the old ferryman—whose true identity was a resident Golden Core cultivator of Osmanthus Island—had not decisively seized the Dragon King Basket, there were two reasons. First, the shifty-eyed, wretched-looking man was surrounded by a slowly orbiting natal flying sword. The sword was a foot long, jet black like ink, constantly emitting thick black smoke. At the very least, he was a Dragon Gate realm swordsmith. Second, the old ferryman feared that the scoundrel, once he started something, might destroy both the Dragon King Basket and the young dragon together, dragging the entire Osmanthus Island down with him as his burial companion.
The old ferryman interrogated the man, asking why he would do something so harmful to both others and himself. The man, who had caused the great calamity, grinned widely, simply surveying the surroundings without answering. The old ferryman attempted several probing questions, trying to infer from the man's words who was behind this. Was it the young master Jiang, who had disembarked midway? Or the Ding family of Old Dragon City, at odds with the Fan family? Unfortunately, the man remained utterly indifferent, speaking sparingly as if each word were precious, unwilling to say even one more.
The old ferryman was helpless. He had to wait for the outcome of the negotiations between Lady Gui and that old dragon. If it truly became a deadlock, then he would have no choice but to kill the man first and desperately seize the Dragon King Basket. Every life spared on Osmanthus Island counted! The Fan family's thousand-year enterprise must not be destroyed today, by the mouths of these criminal remnants from ancient times!
The old ferryman calmed his heart, no longer hoping that the strangely behaving man would speak. He asked calmly, "Do you think you can still escape? Right under the nose of that old dragon, flee from this Jiaolong Trench?"
The nondescript man finally grinned and said, "Then let me try, shall I?"
"This little basket is worth quite a few Grain Rain Coins! Take it, catch!" The man suddenly tossed the low-quality Dragon King Basket high into the air. It was most likely a shoddy imitation mass-produced by some mountain stronghold of the ancient Shu Kingdom. But over time, through repeated plundering, collection, and destruction, Dragon King Baskets had become increasingly rare, almost as precious as Sword Nurturing Gourds.
The old ferryman did not immediately reach for the Dragon King Basket, wary of falling into a malicious trap. Instead, he used his spiritual energy to suspend it in front of him. Concentrating, he looked closely and then flew into a rage. Somehow, the man had secretly employed some means, and the young dragon in the basket was already dying, its flesh a bloody mess, bones exposed, gasping for breath.
The man laughed loudly. His natal flying sword transformed into rolling black smoke to protect his entire body, and between two fingers he pinched a talisman made of golden material. "I'll offer you a toast at your graves later, haha! What a pity the world will never again have Osmanthus Little Brew…"
The talisman flashed with golden light, and the man instantly vanished from the small boat.
The golden old dragon, its scales gleaming, shook its head. One dragon whisker struck the seawater like a long whip, hitting empty space near its body.
But the next moment, one—or rather, two halves of a figure—fell weakly from the clouds high above the Jiaolong Trench. It was the swordsmith who had just used the talisman to try to escape. That talisman had been a priceless, market-scarce Cun Talisman, the second rank among such talismans in the world, capable of teleporting a hundred miles in an instant. Even the person who gave him the talisman had sworn that none of the beasts in the Jiaolong Trench could stop it. That swordsmith had thought himself infallible: he had thrown the Dragon King Basket, the young dragon was nearly dead, Osmanthus Island and the Jiaolong Trench were locked in confrontation like two armies, Lady Gui was distracting the old dragon, and with this golden Cun Talisman, which supposedly could evade a single sword strike from a terrestrial Immortal Swordsman, he could seize the chance to escape. What could go wrong?
The old dragon's another dragon whisker struck through the air, and a series of muffled explosions like spring thunder sounded in the seawater.
The Golden Core swordsmith, cut in two at the waist, had his Golden Core turned to dust in midair. A shower of golden fragments scattered into the clear waters of the Jiaolong Trench, and the pulverized Core, along with the two halves of his body, slowly sank. This drew countless dragon-kind surging to the surface, fighting over the spoils like wolves over food.
The swordsmith died with his eyes wide open, unrelenting.
For a wandering cultivator with no roots, to cultivate a Golden Core realm swordsmith—how difficult was that?
In his lifetime, he had dreamed of completing this big deal, building up a solid foundation, then finding a good place with beautiful scenery and abundant spiritual energy to become the founding ancestor of a sect, to spread his branches and leaves, for a hundred or a thousand years of peaceful generations. He would learn from those immortal seedlings he had long envied, focusing solely on pursuing the Dao, never again having to walk on the edge of a blade…
The old ferryman confirmed that the Dragon King Basket had not been tampered with, then gently grasped it in his hand, turned his head, sighed, and said, "Little one, what are you doing here? This disaster is not something you can meddle in. Quickly retreat to Osmanthus Island. With luck, you might still see Inverted Mountain. If not…"
He did not continue. Such disheartening words, even if the truth were vast, would be useless on the eve of battle.
Chen Ping'an had taken a big gulp of wine and had already re-hooked the Sword Nurturing Gourd at his waist.
The old ferryman noticed nothing unusual, nor did the woman who had been facing the old dragon with her back to Osmanthus Island.
But the silver eyes of the golden old dragon, with their vertical pupils, revealed a hint of amusement. It did not expose the boy's little trick on the spot, merely treating it as killing time, like a cat toying with a mouse.
Chen Ping'an asked, "Old senior, can the situation for our Osmanthus Island get any worse than this?"
"Worse to the extreme."
The old ferryman nodded, unwilling to lie about this matter, and said softly without any concealment, "It is said that when that old dragon signed the contract with the Fan family ancestor, its realm was equivalent to a Nascent Soul realm Qi refiner. Such innate exotic creatures often cultivate extremely slowly, but once they climb to a high level, their actual combat strength often far exceeds their stated realm. Not to mention that a trench filled with thousands of dragon-kind is no weaker than a 'Zong' level immortal sect on Vase Bottle Continent. The key is that old dragon is there to command the formation, making it the most troublesome."
Chen Ping'an felt a bit helpless. "At the very least, that old dragon is an Earth Immortal of the Nascent Soul realm?"
The old ferryman nodded, wondering why the bamboo-pole-carrying, sword-wielding young man asked this.
Chen Ping'an looked up to the distant golden old dragon.
It met his gaze, its silver eyes filled with intense mockery. It deliberately glanced at the Sword Nurturing Gourd at Chen Ping'an's waist.
Chen Ping'an knew the old dragon had seen through his little trick.
The mountain god Wei Bo, who had personally handed him this "Jiang Gourd," had said that Qi refiners below the tenth realm could not see through the illusion he had cast on the Sword Nurturing Gourd. But this old dragon was clearly a tenth-realm Earth Immortal. Therefore, Chen Ping'an's method of covertly drawing the power of First and Fifteenth into his body under the pretense of drinking wine must have long been under its gaze. Thus, one of Chen Ping'an's ace-in-the-hole cards was already exposed in broad daylight.
The old ferryman urged, "Little one, go. Your young chivalrous spirit is commendable, but it is destined to be of no use. Why play the hero? It's better to return to Osmanthus Island and obediently wait for that slim chance. If you stay here, I certainly won't be able to look after your life or death, so don't think you're helping. With your current cultivation, it's no different from walking into death."
The old ferryman had wanted to say that even returning to Osmanthus Island meant nothing more than waiting to die, but it was still better than being torn apart and devoured by the dragons in the sea. But those words stayed in his throat, swallowed back down.
Chen Ping'an took the Dragon-Suppressing Pole and handed it to the old ferryman, explaining, "Senior, this is a Lock-Breaking Talisman I modified. It comes from a 'True Traces of the Cinnabar Book.' According to the records, the complete talisman should have eight ancient seal characters. The earlier poles only had the four characters 'Do what you must.' Actually, you were missing the 'Rain Master's Decree,' and the cloud patterns also deviated quite a bit. So I redrew this Lock-Breaking Talisman."
The old man stared fixedly, stunned on the spot. Then, without another word, he snatched the inherited Dragon-Suppressing Pole and examined it closely, rubbing the texture of the talisman on the bamboo pole with his palm. "Its original name is Lock-Breaking Talisman? Missing the four characters 'Rain Master's Decree'? The Cinnabar Script font, Cloud Seal patterns, and the true intent of suppression are indeed of high rank. Young man, are you a talisman sect Daoist? Did you study under a grand master of a sect?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head lightly.
He did not say that he was a martial artist, merely using a stream of pure true qi within his body, imitating the scholar Li Xisheng of Fortune and Emolument Street, to draw the talisman in one breath.
The old ferryman sighed deeply, "What a pity. We only have this one restored Dragon-Suppressing Pole. If we had dozens of poles, all inscribed with this Lock-Breaking Talisman, and with the help of a formation master proficient in strange gates and hidden arms, perhaps we could truly intimidate this Jiaolong Trench. A pity, such a pity!"
Aunt Gui had already drifted back. Seeing the pole, she was also somewhat surprised, though not as regretful as the old ferryman. She shook her head calmly, "It's useless. Although this talisman has deep origins, often carved on Dragon-Subduing Pillars or swords and sabers—one of the ancient gods' tools for capturing and whipping guilty dragons—I only glanced at a few of them in my early years. It can indeed suppress the dragon-kind, but that old dragon has profound Daoist skills; it's no longer very afraid of this. First, the material of these poles is not high; second, this talisman has extremely high demands on brush and ink…"
After handing over the pole, Chen Ping'an strained his eyes to secretly observe the old dragon.
In its silver eyes, a trace of deep nostalgia appeared, but it quickly returned to normal. Its two dragon whiskers drifted slowly, shimmering with colorful light in the seawater.
It was said that magical cords made from the golden whiskers of a thousand-year-old dragon were the cream of the crop among artifacts.
Chen Ping'an withdrew his gaze and suddenly said, "Aunt Gui, old senior, can you hold them off for a little while? I need to redraw a talisman. If you have other plans, just pretend I didn't say anything. Don't worry, I will try my best to finish this talisman on my own."
Chen Ping'an's voice was very soft, but the unyielding determination in his eyes was moving. "A very important talisman!"
——
On Osmanthus Island, at the top of the Osmanthus Palace, a young Osmanthus guest stood on the roof, looking into the distance in all directions. Beside him was an old woman, full of worry.
The young man wore a bright yellow long robe. At first glance, it seemed unremarkable, and like Chen Ping'an's Sword Nurturing Gourd, it had been adorned with an advanced illusion by someone of high skill. If one could break through that technique and examine it closely, they would see the secret: the robe was not made of silk or satin, but of countless yellowed bamboo pieces, exquisitely woven together with marvelous craftsmanship. The bamboo pieces were thin but extraordinarily tough. Wearing this garment, warm in winter and cool in summer, was not surprising, but it also allowed the wearer to be constantly immersed in a small cave paradise, greatly bolstering cultivation. This was true immortal grandeur.
This robe was called "Coolness," a renowned dharma robe from the Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven's Azure God Mountain. It had once been the favorite of a great dynasty's monarch in the Central Earth Divine Continent. With the dynasty's fall, the precious garment had been lost for a long time, never expected to appear on this young man.
The young man said in a halting Vase Bottle Continent elegant speech, "Granny Liu, even the Golden Core swordsmith's hundred-mile Cun Talisman didn't work. Is my thousand-mile Cun Talisman also very unreliable?"
The old woman sighed, "That old dragon's own cultivation isn't actually frightening—just the peak of Nascent Soul realm. But with the help of a certain high-level being, this trench has been turned into a small world. It has become a sage ruling here, with combat power equivalent to a Jade Pu realm cultivator, and it enjoys all advantages of time, place, and people."
The young man frowned. "Then what do we do?"
The old woman smiled, "Young master, don't worry too much. Even if I have to risk my life, I will send the young master out of this Jiaolong Trench. But afterwards, the young master must remember to go back the way he came, to that colorful tower cliff where the embroidered ball was thrown. Announce your name there—they won't dare to slight you. Then the young master can smoothly return to White Snow Continent and tell the matter to the old ancestor. Then a heavenly punishment will descend, leveling this place to the ground, avenging this old woman."
The young man complained, "Granny Liu, life and death are such huge matters. Why do you speak so lightly? I don't want you to die here. We have to go home together."
The old woman's expression remained cloudless, and she looked at the young man with kind eyes, smiling gently, "It's a helpless move. I can't very well stand before the young master with a sorrowful face and crying—at my age, I really can't do that."
She recalled something and glanced at a jade thumb ring on the young man's hand. She said softly, "Young master, this heirloom 'Span of a Foot' item, remember to hide it well. Don't take out treasures inside when others are around. When you're away from home, don't test people's hearts lightly. The human heart is the most difficult thing to scrutinize."
At this, the old woman's withered, wrinkled face showed a hint of trance—after all, every old woman in the world had once walked the path of a young girl.
The bamboo-robed young man pointed to the single skiff. "Granny Liu, take a look at that young man carrying a bamboo pole. He's about my age, right? He's really awesome, bold and handsome! Much better than me. I'll definitely find a master painter later to have this scene painted."
The old woman shook her head and laughed, "Don't learn from the boy's impulsiveness, young master. You are not just any ordinary thousand-gold or ten-thousand-gold child. If something really happens to you in this area between Vase Bottle Continent and Bodhi Continent, it would be a huge disaster."
The young man said helplessly, "Granny Liu, I've been through many trials already. Don't always treat me like a kid, okay?"
The old woman smiled without speaking.
Every single one of those seemingly perilous trials had always had some old ancestor watching over him personally.
In fact, on this long journey, they had first gone from White Snow Continent to Gathering Reed Continent, then south to Vase Bottle Continent—Divine Declaration Sect, Lake-Viewing Academy, Yunlin Jiang Clan, finally reaching Old Dragon City. Then they continued southward, landing on Tongye Continent, visiting both the northern Tongye Continent and the southern Jade Table Sect. The young master had even almost entered that Cloud Grotto Blessed Land. The entire journey had been smooth without any wind or rain, but the old woman could never understand why she was the only one accompanying the young master as a guard. Wasn't that too rash? A Nascent Soul realm Qi refiner wasn't low in realm, but the young master's status was incomparably noble!
For example, in this Jiaolong Trench crisis, if a Jade Pu realm swordsmith had been guarding the young master, he wouldn't have needed to frown at all, let alone be frightened. He could have just watched from a safe distance.
——
Outside an ordinary house halfway up Osmanthus Island, there was a small pavilion. A young woman of exquisite beauty sat inside, dressed in a short shirt and long skirt, with a colored sash at her waist. Faced with this inexplicable calamity, though her face was full of anger and she was furious at Old Dragon City's Fan family, she still patiently finished brewing tea, drank it, packed up the tea set piece by piece, and then began to consider her options. But when she saw the gruesome scene of the Golden Core swordsmith's body and dao disappearing, she felt somewhat disheartened. It was likely a dead end.
The woman's face was full of worry. She tapped the table lightly with her fingers and muttered to herself, "There's no reason for such bad luck. I cast a divination at Old Dragon City and declined the Mountain-Turtle boat, choosing Osmanthus Island. According to reason, it should have been right. I should have picked up a couple of opportunities along the way. How could I perish here?"
The young woman stood up, tiptoed to the top of the pavilion, and gained a broad view from above. She swallowed, slowly changed from standing to squatting on the roof, and began to calculate with her fingers, deducing the situation. "Is there a high-level being hidden among us, or is the one who can break this deadlock yet to appear? In any case, it can't be a dead end. It can't be… Let me calculate you, woman who can confront the golden old dragon. Oh, so you are Osmanthus Island itself. Strange, the one to break the deadlock is still not you…"
"Let's look at this ferryman, hiding his true strength. Eh? A Qi refiner who fell from Nascent Soul to Golden Core realm? And his injury hasn't healed yet. He's indeed a ferryman with a story. But you can't break the deadlock either…"
"As for this young calf who doesn't fear tigers, forget it. He's carrying a bamboo pole, and what's more, drinking? Too ostentatious. Does he think he's a fifth-tier Immortal Swordsman? What a fool… So the key to breaking the deadlock must be on the mountain. Is there a divine being watching from the sidelines, waiting for that old dragon to relax before delivering a fatal blow? Let me calculate—there really is a hermit concealing his aura. But unfortunately… it's still not!"
The woman tore at her hair, her cheeks flushed. She was clearly frantic. Her hairpins and ornaments were askew, her hair a mess.
"Don't panic, don't panic. My master said in person: amidst any great trend in the world, there is always a hidden 'One' that gives rise to all things. Even that Dao Ancestor has been pursuing this word. So it is for that True Dragon, so it is for the true mystery of the Pearl Grotto Cave Heaven, so it is for the Sword Qi Great Wall—all the same…"
At the moment when this young woman's mind was wavering, Gold Grain, the osmanthus flower girl of the Gui Mansion small courtyard, happened to be walking while looking back step by step. She saw her master's dangerous confrontation with the golden old dragon, saw the old ferryman who was very likely Osmanthus Island's Golden Core cultivator, and of course saw that sword-wielding young man rowing forward to stir up trouble. Gold Grain knew she should not resent the young man who had stepped forward, but for some reason, her anger towards him grew fiercer, as if all the disasters she had suffered today had to be blamed on this fellow for her to feel a little better inside.
Gold Grain did not want to think further, nor was she willing to admit that the reason for her rage was not that the outlander named Chen Ping'an had done something wrong, but rather that his "stubbornness" inadvertently highlighted her own cowardice and timidity. She did not even have the courage to stand by her master's side as a master and disciple facing each other.
Between life and death, some cling to life and fear death, assessing the situation and retreating from danger; others sacrifice life for righteousness, facing the difficulties head-on, seeking survival amid death.
For young people just starting on the long road of immortality, one may not be wrong, and the other may not be right.
On the sea outside Osmanthus Island, two small boats were moored side by side.
The old ferryman had tried several times to persuade him to no avail. Deep down, he truly could not bear to watch this young man die here. So he was a bit angry and said, "Since Lady Gui has already explained the power of that old dragon, why are you still staying here? Nonsense!"
The woman smiled bitterly, "Trapped on all sides, apart from fighting to the death, there is really no chance."
The old man suddenly lowered his voice, "Lady Gui, you must survive. The Fan family…"
The woman shook her head, "My mind is made up."
She turned to the young man and asked softly, "Chen Ping'an, is that talisman really that important?"
Chen Ping'an nodded vigorously.
The woman took a deep breath, "Well, since things have come to this, what else can we do? That old dragon is determined not to remember old ties, pressing me with the word 'rules' at every turn. Unusual events must hide some monster. Since you, Chen Ping'an, are willing to do something, then do it. The two of us helping you buy a little time shouldn't be difficult."
Chen Ping'an immediately sat down in the small boat, his back to the golden flood dragon. Connecting his mind with the flying sword Fifteen, which was a Cun object, he soon slipped a piece of blue talisman paper from his sleeve—apparently a page torn from a sage's book. Chen Ping'an held the brush "Small Snow Cone" in his left hand and gently breathed out. But when the brush tip of that "Spirit-Possessed" brush moved toward the talisman paper, Chen Ping'an's heart shook violently. The brush tip seemed like a traveler in deep snow, feet trapped, unable to move an inch!
The pure true qi of his martial body actually broke off right there!
Previously, when writing on golden talisman paper for the Pagoda-Suppressing Demon Talisman and the Yang Qi Lamp Talisman, Chen Ping'an had never encountered such a situation.
Instead, Chen Ping'an felt a surge of joy.
Preferring to suffer internal injury and shock to his spirit, he still forced a new breath and sank his arm down. The tip of Small Snow Cone moved steadily toward that paper talisman.
You can do something, but you must ensure it doesn't make the situation worse.
In front of a decrepit temple in Yellow Court Kingdom, those young martial heroes in bright clothes and horses, for their idea of an ardent heart and righteous deeds, had nearly ruined the great undertaking of the righteous Qi refiners and almost allowed the mischief-making wild fox spirit to escape.
That was a cautionary tale of good intentions causing harm.
If he could guarantee this premise, Chen Ping'an felt he had to do something.
In the City God Temple of Rouge Prefecture in Colorful Garment Kingdom, the prefect's daughter, with silver bells tied to her hands and feet, had similarly helped with a measured touch. Each time she helped, it was within her ability and also helped Chen Ping'an share the pressure appropriately. That was excellent.
The same was true of the ferry: one, the Osmanthus Island of Old Dragon City; the other, the Whale Ship of Sacrificial Mountain.
This Osmanthus Island was the family property his good friend Fan Er would inherit after coming of age.
And that Whale Ship had once held two girls who were inseparable from each other day and night, named Spring Water and Autumn Fruit, both fine girls. Chen Ping'an had thought that at such a young age, whether a few years or decades later, even separated by mountains and rivers, after parting they would always meet again.
Chen Ping'an continuously increased the force in his fingers and arm. His breath regulation and the Eighteen Stops of Sword Qi circulated swiftly and violently. This stream of pure true qi within his body, breaking through all obstacles, had to be both fast and stable.
If the qi is stable, the spirit is calm; if the spirit is calm, the talisman is numinous.
In the final analysis, thinking back to those days, throwing pottery and pulling the wheel also required stability. With a calm heart, the hand is steady.
The tip of Small Snow Cone finally touched the blue talisman paper.
A small point of light exploded instantly.
It was like a bright moon rising over the sea.
Chen Ping'an was unmoved. His mind was completely immersed in that Lock-Breaking Talisman. He had to write eight characters on the blue talisman paper: "Do what you must, Rain Master's Decree."
At this moment, the young man sat cross-legged in the small boat, utterly lost in concentration.
Facing an ancient page, with brush in hand, he didn't seem like a pure martial artist or a swordsman, but rather like a scholar boy copying texts in a landscape.
Whether this talisman would succeed or fail—he would only know after he finished drawing it.
Just like the Mountain-Shaking Fist—whether the fist technique was high or low, he would first practice it a million times and then see.
If he did nothing today, Chen Ping'an felt he would be letting down the fists he had trained, the sword he had learned, the wine he had drunk, and the many people he had come to know.