Cha Ming shook his head. “Brother Huoshan overpraises. The three hours of preparation beforehand were very important. It took me eight hours in reality. Besides, the talismans aren’t yet evaluated.”
“It’s still an impressive feat,” Huoshan said. “And the evaluation is just a formality. Setting up this formation comes at great expense. One only uses such a formation to appraise talismans without destroying them. The formation’s value isn’t less than a mid-grade talisman. Do you think they would waste so much effort on a failed product? At their realm, they already know the result but need proof to placate the audience.”
True to his words, the examiner finished the formation in exactly half an hour. It was built with water and earth element components, many of which Cha Ming didn’t recognize. He handed the talismans to the examiner while bowing courteously. The examiner proceeded to place the first talisman, the Crumbling Talisman, in the center of the formation.
As soon as the man stepped out, the crystals and lines in formation began to dim, and a projection lit up the room. Cha Ming saw two earth golems appear and begin fighting. They fought for an incense time with no result, showing that they were evenly matched. They continued fighting with increasing intensity and increasingly powerful blows until rocks began to fall off their freshly constructed bodies. A light flashed, and a brown talisman suddenly struck one of the golems. He let out a loud roar. To the audience’s surprise, the next fist strike from the opposing golem shattered its chest. The next blow shattered its hip. A final strike demolished the golem’s head. It was a clean victory.
Crumbling Talisman (Poetic Talisman—Du Cha Ming) Lesser-Grade Magic Talisman. Efficiency—100%. The display appeared briefly before fading.
The examiner then walked up once more, retrieving the used talisman and replacing it with the Hardening Talisman. Fist strikes rained down from both golems until they became powerful enough to damage each other. This time, a light flashed and struck the same golem. But instead of shattering, its rocky skin glistened like a freshly polished gem. It struck the other golem without fear, breaking off small pieces one at a time. After thirty breaths, the effects wore off, and the other golem’s blows began taking their toll, and the lead he had developed granted an easy victory.
Hardening Talisman (Poetic Talisman—Du Cha Ming) Lesser-Grade Magic Talisman. Efficiency—100%.
Its effects weren’t as surprising as the first, but plenty of talk ensued. The examiner ignored them and tested both remaining talismans sequentially. This time, the results were a lot closer. The Resistance Talisman caused the reaction speed of one golem to slow, but its attacks were difficult to interrupt. Ultimately, the affected golem succumbed.
The Momentum Talisman, on the other hand, caused the golem to deal much more damage, but its motions became awkward and difficult to control. Despite this handicap, it still won the exchange.
Resistance Talisman (Poetic Talisman—Du Cha Ming) Lesser-Grade Magic Talisman. Efficiency—100%.
Momentum Talisman (Poetic Talisman—Du Cha Ming) Lesser-Grade Magic Talisman. Efficiency—100%.
Four talismans at one-hundred-percent efficiency appeared simultaneously, and they were all original creations. Cha Ming was quite curious as to how the formation was able to determine he was the original creator. It also knew the original name he’d given it.
“Congratulations, Cha Ming, on achieving the rank of lesser-grade master artist,” the examiner said, flicking his sleeve. A silver medal was quickly engraved with Cha Ming’s credentials, and the examiner pinned it directly to his robes. “Do make sure to visit the guild leader once these formalities are over. And bring those talismans.” The man’s cold demeanor had softened considerably after Cha Ming’s success.
“Congratulations, Brother Cha Ming,” Feng Huoshan, Luo Ming, and Hua Dong said while clasping their fists and bowing.
“You are too kind, seniors,” Cha Ming replied and returned the gesture. The master artists then made various excuses to depart.
“Congratulations to you, Brother Cha Ming,” Luo Xuehua said sweetly. “It’s impressive that you were able to not only pass but obtain your lesser-master qualification.”
“The same goes to you, Sister Xuehua,” Cha Ming said. “I just barely passed. You, however, did so with your eyes closed.” He instantly regretted his poor choice of words, as the young lady with silver hair smiled bitterly.
“You should go ahead and see the branch leader,” Xuehua said, walking away. Once again, she was surrounded by an aura of unapproachable loneliness.
Cha Ming proceeded to the branch leader’s office immediately after the examination ended. He quickly used his water qi to freshen up, removing most of the dirt, blood, and grime that had accumulated over the course of the test. He then dried himself off using fire qi.
It was a short walk to the branch leader’s office. He needed no one to guide him, as this was the only place in the guild that his incandescent force couldn’t invade. As far as he knew, there were only two possible reasons for this. The first involved a large quantity of very expensive spirit-repelling materials to perfectly insulate the room. The second and most likely reason was that the branch leader was a core-formation cultivator. A core-formation cultivator’s soul was qualitatively different compared to his incandescent soul.
Cha Ming soon arrived at a luxurious waiting room. The door to the branch leader’s office was shut, so Cha Ming could only wait. He had no doubt that the branch leader already knew he had arrived; therefore he took his time admiring the four exquisite paintings situated on each of the four walls. They each represented a season, and by looking at them, Cha Ming could feel the temperature in the room change to match the season he looked at. The paintings felt familiar, so he looked for a signature. He soon found it hidden in a corner—Jun Xiezi. All four were Jun Xiezi’s works.
An hour passed before the door opened and the examiner, after bowing toward the inside of the room, flew out of a side window without glancing at him. “Come in,” a pleasant but strangely familiar voice called out.
Cha Ming walked into a room illuminated by a large window. The sun happened to be shining in his eyes and obscuring the man’s figure. He could only look toward the side as he walked forward.
The room smelled of rose petals and morning dew, and to his surprise, the moment he entered, the residual blood and soot that he’d missed in his hasty cleaning had disappeared. In addition, he felt hidden wounds that hadn’t yet regenerated heal instantly.
This room also had paintings on all four walls, but instead of four separate paintings, a continuous fresco traveled just below the ceiling. The two-foot-wide painting displayed scenes and people frolicking in a spring. The rose petals were being spread out by servants who waited on the young lords and ladies. He recognized the style, of course. It was Jun Xiezi’s style.
“Art is a wonderful thing,” a soft voice said. “Without it, life is emotionless and stale, a race for survival. A competition. People become so entangled in everyday life that they forget to appreciate what is around them, to sit down and smell the roses.”
The speaker was a silver-haired old man. He was unfathomable, both in cultivation and soul. Considering the man’s cultivation and apparent age, Cha Ming wouldn’t be surprised if he had lived over four hundred years. Moreover, his identity was surprising. It was the man from the art gallery.
“Greetings, senior,” Cha Ming said, bowing deeply. “Never could I have imagined that the branch leader was enjoying the paintings in the gallery like everyone else.”
The man smiled. “Why shouldn’t I? Not only do I get to enjoy the paintings, but I get a constant flow of appreciative company. Like yourself, for example.”
“I see that you’re very enamored with Jun Xiezi’s paintings,” Cha Ming said, observing the intricate artwork on the walls with appreciation.
“I should be,” the man said. “A man should always enjoy his own work.”
“You mean… you are Jun Xiezi?” Cha Mi
ng asked, his eyes wide.
“Naturally,” Jun Xiezi said. “How else would I have more of Jun Xiezi’s artwork in my office than the rest of the city combined? Now tell me, what do you think of art?”
The question caught Cha Ming by surprise. It was an especially meaningful question, given that it came from such a prestigious painter.
Cha Ming hesitated. “Branch Leader, my knowledge of art is very shallow. Therefore, I believe my answer might lack depth.”
“Entertain me,” the man said, smiling. “And do away with the honorifics, as I really can’t stand them. Please call me Jun Xiezi. Senior, if you must.”
“Of course, Senior Xiezi,” Cha Ming said. “Since you would like to hear it, I will share my meager thoughts on the matter. But for that, I will need to start at the beginning.”
“Oh?” Jun Xiezi said. “Please go ahead, I’m curious to hear it. Meanwhile, let us have some of this herbal tea. I was brewing it before you came in, so I hope you enjoy it.”
A clear teapot was sitting on the man’s wooden desk, revealing a beautiful flower arrangement floating within its heated waters. Jun Xiezi’s bony and wrinkled hand firmly grasped the teapot, pouring it into two small transparent cups. The tea was light and aromatic, as many herbal teas were. Cha Ming tapped both his fingers on the table after sitting down, then smelled the tea for a while before taking a sip.
“I can’t say I’ve ever tasted anything quite like this,” Cha Ming said. The tea tasted both hot and refreshing at the same time. If he were to describe its nature, it would be “pure,” just like the sensation he felt as he walked into the room.
“I would be surprised if you had,” the man said, smiling again. “These flowers come from a transcendent realm, and they are difficult for most people to procure. Fortunately I’ve taken to growing them in my garden.” He motioned to a painting beside him depicting thorny rose bushes. “Please continue with your explanation.”
“Right,” Cha Ming said. “In the beginning, people were concerned with survival. They struggled every day. Their lives were full of suffering but full of purpose. They lived in caves. Despite this hard life, they still discovered that one could leave marks on a wall with coal, and they began recording stories. They did this both to remember and to facilitate the telling of stories orally. These stories were a respite from the monotony, something they chose to do, despite their struggle for survival.
“With time, society evolved. People gained additional free time, and their choices grew exponentially. Their stories grew, and their styles evolved. So too did the styles, the quality, and the quantity of paintings. The same applied to clothing. Art evolved with mankind and evolved with their prosperity.
“I dare to speculate that eventually, everyone will become so completely secure that their lives will seem meaningless and without purpose. This world has not yet reached that point, but I believe it will. Yet regardless of how meaningless life seems, people will never fail to appreciate the art they resonate with.
“Art is both a distraction from reality and an extension of it. During times of war, people wish they could be at home singing songs, telling stories, or participating in various art forms. During times of peace, people flock to art in droves.
“Art is wonderful because it’s an expression of choice, something people historically have very little of. People can choose to make it, choose to enjoy it. It is an expression of the most powerful emotions mankind can produce. As such, humans will make art for as long as humanity exists.”
Xiezi looked at him pensively, his eyes piercing into his soul. “It is very interesting for someone of this plane to have such a point of view,” he said, sighing. “It is indeed as you say. Society will flourish to the point that people will lose motivation. This is what my teacher has told me. He is from a transcendent plane, you see; his perspective much vaster than you can imagine.
“Since you have been kind enough to give me an answer, I will now give you mine. Art, my friend, is the ultimate expression of emotions,” the man said. “To the point that nature itself will resonate with art once it reaches a certain level. Moreover, art at a high enough level will birth runes intrinsically. Take a closer look at the painting you were just looking at.”
Curious, Cha Ming gazed at the fresco. He didn’t blink, lest he miss something.
“You are focusing too hard,” the man said. “Don’t focus.”
Cha Ming blinked his eyes, letting them wander as they chose. Before long, his eyesight blurred, but something he saw became clearer. Shifting, glowing lines began to appear. They floated around the painting, dancing with joy. He could vaguely perceive them as runes, but he didn’t have sufficient insight to truly see them.
“Only those who have gained inspiration on the true meaning of the painting will be able to see them,” the man said, chuckling. “However, you have experienced their effect. As soon as you entered the room, they freshened and revitalized you. This is my understanding and my manifestation of art. The proof is in what you see around you.
“My paintings are infused with my desire to relax, travel, and appreciate the world’s beauty. Every painting I make is infused with a wonderful scene that I’ve personally witnessed. This specific moment was decades ago, when I visited the decadent Sui Kingdom. This was one of their famous parties, one held by a royal prince. It was one of the most relaxing and invigorating experiences in my life.”
They sat for a few moments, contemplating each other’s answers while sipping tea. After a while, Cha Ming recalled where he was and looked up to see the man peering at him from his chair. “Senior Xiezi, the examiner told me you wanted to see me. I presume it has something to do with the talismans I painted?”
The man nodded. “Indeed. I had them test them differently because I would like to trade for your talismans.”
Cha Ming had expected this answer, but he was quite reluctant. These talismans were a very personal production, with much emotional investment. No one else in the world could make them.
“I understand your reluctance,” the man said, sighing. Then he motioned to the various paintings and the fresco in the room. “These paintings are my life’s work, and it would pain me to part with any of them. In fact, the only reason some of my art is in the gallery is because I owed a friend a favor. I have never sold a painting, only gifted them. And while I like traveling, I owed another favor to the Northern Talisman Artist Guild’s leader, who happens to be a master sculptor and gifted me one of his famous works. So here I am, shackled to this desk for ten more years.
“I propose a trade,” Jun Xiezi said, his eyes glittering. “After you painted the first two talismans, I had an epiphany. I’ve created a polarized painting that I believe could be very useful to you. I hope you’ll consider trading your talismans for it.” The silver-haired man waved his sleeve. A six-foot-by-six-foot painting appeared in the room.
Cha Ming inhaled sharply as he stared at the painting, which looked a lot more like two individual creations. On the lower-right corner was vivid greenery, flowers, and vitality. He felt his emotions recover just by looking at it, and he could faintly sense that if he looked at it long enough, his emotional state would recover enough to be able to paint his four poetic talismans once more. However, looking at the upper-left corner, he saw dried-out trunks devoid of life and a poisonous miasma. It eroded at his soul and worsened his emotions.
Looking at the middle of the painting, this destruction and nurturing reached an equilibrium. He felt that during this cycle, his soul was slowly strengthening, wearing away at the bottleneck into the next realm.
“I was inspired by the polarized nature of your talismans,” Jun Xiezi said. “When you came to the art gallery yesterday, you seemed confused and distraught. However, I noticed that my painting stabilized you and your emotions. This painting was made for you and is my gift to you, should you choose to accept it. It will help refine your soul, and perhaps in the long term, you can gain inspiration from it.”
; Cha Ming gulped as he inspected the painting a little more closely. It emanated a substantial pressure that far exceeded his Clear Sky Staff or Stormchaser Boots. “This is a core-formation treasure?”
“That’s right, it’s a core treasure,” the man said. “But it’s the least of core treasures, so don’t bother yourself with that.”
“This is much too valuable,” Cha Ming said, shaking his head.
“Then trade me a promise as well,” the man said. “When you make new poetic talismans, I want one of each of them. That way you don’t have to feel guilty, and I can study your four talismans and look for inspiration with a clear conscience.”
Cha Ming nodded. “Very well, it’s a deal.” Cha Ming took out his four talismans and placed them on the desk, and at Jun Xiezi’s insistence, he stowed away the painting in his Clear Sky World.
“Fascinating,” Xiezi said, examining one of the talismans. “You made your talismans using runic poetry. If I am not mistaken, you’ve infused emotions of resistance and momentum into the water talismans, while infusing crumbling and hardening into the earth talismans. How very interesting. My master once told me of a sect in the transcendent realm closest to this mortal plane called the Inky Sea Sect. They do something similar there.”
Cha Ming chuckled. “You are certainly very well educated. I was taught talisman arts by a member of the Inky Sea Sect.” Of course, Cha Ming had not known this at the time. It was only after he read Elder Ling’s letter that he knew this.
“As I suspected,” the man said, nodding. “Thank you very much for sharing these insights with me. “
Seeing that Xiezi’s gaze lingered on the talismans on the table, Cha Ming took the hint and stood up. “It’s been a pleasure, senior. I’m very tired and should be heading back to my accommodations.”
The silver-haired man nodded slightly, and Cha Ming left him to his contemplation.
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