Chapter 56: The Power of Four Words

Zhu Xiaoyuan stepped into the study. He took ink and brush from the table, then casually pulled a few sheets from the stack of rice paper nearby. A flute hung on the rack; Zhu Xiaoyuan took that down as well.

In the courtyard, he began to grind ink, lifted his brush, and let it dance across the paper. The brush was ancient, its form simple and noble, seemingly crafted by nature itself. On the shaft, two faintly carved characters could be discerned—likely “Xuanji.”

As the brush touched the paper, ink flowed and lines appeared, crisp and defined. Feng and Huanyue stood by, faces filled with astonishment. Even they could sense that, as Zhu Xiaoyuan’s brush fell, the courtyard itself began to resonate with the rhythm of the Dao.

“Is that really a brush in our teacher’s hand? It feels more like a sharp sword!” Huanyue muttered, mouth agape.

“The clash of the Dao, all in the moment our teacher’s brush moves! What level has he reached in his cultivation?” Feng whispered in awe.

A long time passed before Zhu Xiaoyuan finally set aside the brush. Four large characters stood clear on the rice paper: “The Lone Serenity Courtyard.” Each stroke was like silver hooks and iron lines, flawless and perfect. The proportions were precise; no one could find a single flaw.

“Huanyue,” Zhu Xiaoyuan said, putting down the brush and handing her the rice paper. “Go and post these characters on the gate of our courtyard.”

He had lived here for many years, yet had never named his little courtyard. Now, why not use the name written here? It was timely, too—if those irritable people from the Spell Association saw this, perhaps they would retreat at once! Let them understand the difficulty they faced.

Zhu Xiaoyuan believed that, once those outside knew Huanyue and the others were his disciples, and his abilities surpassed theirs, they would surely leave.

Huanyue stepped forward and took the calligraphy from Zhu Xiaoyuan with both hands. A powerful flow of Dao rhythm enveloped her. She took a deep breath and turned to go.

Outside the courtyard, Tie Ming and Dou Tai eyed it with suspicion. “This courtyard is strange! It looks peaceful, but I feel danger standing here,” Tie Ming observed, surveying the area, eyes full of awe. If not for sensing the threat within, they would have barged in already.

“Let’s just go in. It’s only a shabby courtyard! This is just a mountain village; what’s there to fear? Let’s go!” Dou Tai said confidently, grabbing Tie Ming as if to pull him inside.

Just as they were about to move, the gate opened from within. Huanyue walked out directly. The crowd paused, stunned at the sight of her.

“That little brat is really hiding here!” Zhu Xin and Hao Ming said grimly in unison.

“Huanyue, you finally came out. Where’s Feng? I heard you both took someone else as your master. That’s utter rebellion! I’ll teach you a lesson for your master right now!” Dou Tai threatened fiercely.

Huanyue’s eyes showed some fear, but she quickly straightened herself. “Feng and I are now disciples of Elder Zhu. You mustn’t speak rashly before him!”

With that, she shook out the paper in her hand, revealing the calligraphy. Dao intent surged. Dou Tai felt as if struck by lightning. He stared at the calligraphy, reading each word aloud, and was immediately drawn in.

With each stroke, Dao rhythm hid beneath. With each line, rules manifested. Unique—one and only, inviolable.

These four simple words radiated a terrifying aura.

What kind of person could write such characters? The thought struck Dou Tai, and suddenly he felt as if adrift in a vast ocean, experiencing a mysterious sensation. He was a supreme expert, yet still could sense the power contained within the calligraphy.

Overwhelmed, Dou Tai dropped to his knees with a thud. Above him, the pressure of the Dao weighed down. He realized he was but an ant, his once-proud strength utterly insignificant. The Dao swirled around him, the birth and death of rules unfolding before his eyes. Blood streamed from his eyes as he stared wide-eyed.

“No!” Tie Ming cried, sensing something was wrong, though his cultivation did not focus on calligraphy and so he felt less affected than Dou Tai. He stepped forward, pulled Dou Tai up, flung him behind, and covered his eyes. “Fellow Daoist Dou Tai, you mustn’t look anymore, or you’ll be lost!”

Tie Ming was desperate to wake Dou Tai, whose spiritual energy was leaking uncontrollably, unable to stabilize his aura. But after seeing Zhu Xiaoyuan’s four characters, Dou Tai could not regain his senses. Arms and legs flailed wildly, like a man gone mad with joy—“I can become immortal! I’ve seen the ultimate in calligraphy! Hahaha… hahahaha…”

He broke free from Tie Ming’s grasp, skipping away like a child, gleefully running toward the distance.

Tie Ming watched helplessly, finally murmuring, “Dou Tai… has gone mad!”

Mad? Impossible.

Zhu Xin and Hao Ming simply couldn’t comprehend it; their faces were filled with shock. How could Dou Tai lose his mind so easily? He was a supreme figure! Just four characters—could that drive someone mad?

If word got out, it would be laughable! Yet, before their eyes, it had truly happened.

“What kind of person could write such characters?” Hao Ming trembled, stammering the question.