Sword Sect Outer Sect

Chapter 329 The Road to the Underworld
Between reality and illusion, Song Yan felt somewhat dazed.

Only after he confirmed repeatedly that it was real and could be taken out of the painting did he feel a surge of joy.

Having been fooled by the vast bamboo forest of Yunyuan earlier, I now feel a sense of having regained what I had lost.

It's amazing.

Just as I was calming myself down, I felt a wriggling motion inside my sleeve.

Immediately afterwards, a small snake's head emerged with some difficulty.

Xiao He was still drowsy, but she tried hard and reluctantly opened her eyes.

"Yan Yan... Ah... Where am I?"

Snake Baby's voice was still a little weak, but her spirits had obviously recovered a lot. She yawned and swam out from Song Yan's robes.

Although their cultivation is sealed, demons are very sensitive to changes in their environment.

"The spiritual energy is light and airy."

"Awake? Feeling better?"

Song Yan carefully sorted out the Yunyuan bamboo rice, wrapped it in a piece of cloth, and temporarily put it in his pocket.

He had originally prepared many jade boxes or special bags to hold spiritual herbs and plants.

However, without spiritual power at this moment, I cannot use the Qiankun Bag, so I can only make do for now.

"Light and airy is just right; this is the world in the painting."

As if performing some kind of show, Song Yan waved his hand over the spirit bamboo beside him, and the part he touched instantly turned into ink.

"Wow……"

Snake Baby seemed to be fully awake.

Song Yan felt much more relaxed and cheerful, and the tension she had felt in the days since arriving in the Central Region had dissipated considerably.

"Let's go for a walk."

This was made by a Nascent Soul Realm cultivator; how can you not take a good look at it?

So the man and the snake began to wander around the area.

Behind the small building, there is a babbling brook with flowing, light ink-colored water and black stones paving the bottom.

Song Yan tried, and as expected, he was unable to scoop up a single drop of real water.

Beside the stream stood a short bamboo covered in strange, dark-colored flowers. Snake Baby stretched out its tail to pick it, but the tail passed right through it, only managing to grab a handful of illusory light and shadow.

Then she remembered that these were fake.

Song Yan simply sat down by the stream and watched Xiao He play around.

The environment here is relaxed and comfortable; it would be wonderful to have a secluded cave dwelling here.

"I wonder what the situation is like for Senior Brother Lin Qing and the others who participated in the painting competition..."

The landscapes, flowers, and birds are fine, the scenes in the paintings are so realistic, but what about the scenes in the scroll of ghosts and gods? Aren't they gloomy and terrifying?
After going around in circles, I've returned to Xiaozhu.

Song Yan's gaze fell on the painting again. Looking at this unfinished work, his state of mind was completely different from when he first entered.

The fact that I obtained the spirit bamboo seeds during this trip to the Central Region was an unexpected delight, and I was in high spirits.

Looking at this painting again, my mind opened up, and I felt a desire to put my brush to paper.

Why not give it a try? It's just for fun anyway.

He approached the painting table.

The desk was fully equipped with writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. The ink was of the finest quality, thick and not easily dispersed, and the brush was a rabbit hair brush heavily dipped in ink and color.

Judging from the previous conversation between Senior Wu Daoxuan and that mysterious swordsman, he is definitely not the kind of petty person.

If I'm not satisfied with my drawing, at most it's just a bad grade; I'm unlikely to actually get angry or punished.

Although Song Yan told herself that she only needed to draw simple pictures.

But when he actually picked up the pen, he didn't know where to begin.

"To draw a portrait, you need someone to reference... But who should I draw?"

Just as he was hesitating, Xiao He suddenly asked, "Yan Yan, what do you want to draw?"

"I can draw a person, but I don't know how."

"It's nothing, I know how. Here you go."

With a flick of its tail, Xiao He snatched the pen from Song Yan's hand.

"Oh? When did you start learning to draw?"

"I haven't learned that, but isn't it the same as sculpting clay figures?"

Xiao He was speaking while holding a calligraphy brush, and the ink accidentally dripped onto the drawing paper, leaving a blot.

"Oh no, this is bad."

Snake Baby looked up at Song Yan with a guilty conscience.

Upon seeing this, Song Yan was initially startled, but then realized that he had no intention of pursuing any achievements at all.

So she smiled and said, "It's okay, go ahead and draw. Just let it go after you've had your fun."

"Oh."

But the ink dot kept spreading out, becoming quite a large patch.

Xiao He and Song Yan both thought the same thing: If only they could get a different sheet of paper.

Just as I was thinking this, the paper suddenly flipped, a page was turned away, and it vanished into ink.

A brand new sheet of drawing paper appeared on the drawing table, with the original parts on it being exactly the same as the previous one.

"Ouch."

Xiao He's eyes widened.

"Senior Wu Daoxuan is so thoughtful." Song Yan exclaimed in amazement, waving his hand: "Xiao He, show it to me."

"Let's show Senior Wu Daoxuan our skills and let him see the painting talent of this demon race prodigy."

"Okay! What should we draw?"

"Whatever." Song Yan shrugged. He had never met this senior sword cultivator before and didn't know what he looked like.

"However, this senior is a sword cultivator. Judging from his speech and demeanor, he should be a free and unrestrained person?"

"A sword cultivator? Aren't you one?"

Xiao He tilted her head: "That's easy, just watch me."

The snake's tail curled around the drawing pen; with a few quick strokes, it fell to the ground.

First, there were the slightly curved brow ridges, the eye sockets, and the straight bridge of the nose...

Further down, the lip line is clear, and although it is slightly thin, it has a sense of determination.

Almost instantly, a simple yet nascent human face appeared on the paper.

Although the lines are somewhat immature and not exquisite, they are clean and neat.

"Wow!" Song Yan was stunned and couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

Although the face was only a rough draft, it gave him a sense of familiarity.

Song Yan blinked and looked at Xiao He: "You really know how?"

Snake Baby raised its head and gave him a smug look: "You're absolutely right."

She dipped her brush in ink again, and this time, she wrote more slowly.

He would stop every now and then, as if he was reminiscing about something.

As Xiaohe continued to draw, the figure became clearer and clearer.

Finally, at a certain moment, the pen stopped, and with a whoosh, the snake spread its tail and threw the pen away.

"All right."

It’s really hard for me.

Upon closer inspection, one sees that the person in the painting has sword-like eyebrows, bright eyes, a straight nose, thin lips, and a handsome appearance.

Although it is just an ink painting, it seems to leap off the paper.

His eyebrows and eyes clearly resembled those of Song Yan.

Song Yan was slightly taken aback, then suddenly felt a sense of enlightenment.

That's right, how could those of them who participated in the painting process in later generations have ever seen that senior?

Why insist on depicting the senior's demeanor and style?
Song Yan didn't understand many of the techniques and brushstrokes in painting, but even as a layman, he could tell that the painting was very lifelike.

The brushstrokes are rough and lack any artistic conception, but it still looks like the subject.

Could it be that Xiaohe is really a painting genius?
"How about it?"

Song Yan was somewhat surprised: "Xiao He, you draw really well."

"of course."

As Xiaohe spoke, she also looked at her work with great satisfaction. "I've seen what Yanyan looks like at any time, and I remember it clearly, so of course my drawing of her is clear too! Hehe, it's not difficult!"

She spoke casually, as if describing Song Yan was the simplest thing in the world.

Song Yan clicked his tongue in amazement: "Could this be the legendary 'having a plan in mind'?"

Although Xiaohe didn't understand the complex principles of painting, she had already memorized the images and expressions of the people she painted, and had an incredibly vivid impression of them.

Her bamboo has grown over countless years of companionship, and has grown into its most authentic form.

Now, when I pick up the pen, I am naturally at ease, capturing both form and spirit.

Of course, there must be a little bit of talent involved.

After receiving such praise from Song Yan, Xiao He was in high spirits. She tugged at Song Yan's sleeve and said, "It's your turn. You draw too!"

"Ah I?"

Caught off guard, Song Yan was almost sweating profusely.

He doesn't have Xiao He's artistic talent.

"Uh...hehe, Xiaohe, look, if I were to start drawing too, wouldn't your beautiful paintings just disappear?"

Song Yan pointed to the painting: "What a pity."

Xiao He pondered for a moment: "Okay...you make a good point."

He successfully avoided embarrassing himself in front of Xiaohe.

Song Yan didn't know how to hand it over either; he should leave the painting first.

So they put the painting away and left the place.

"Let's go see what other people have painted."

……

Leaving the painted landscape, we returned to Daozi's old home.

Song Yan discovered that, apart from himself who didn't care about the final result at all, there were actually several other cultivators who had participated in the painting practice earlier than him.

There are three or four days left until the painting session ends.

He had assumed that those who had high standards for painting would only stop painting at the very last moment.

The reason Xiao Song has this doubt is because he doesn't understand the art of painting very well.

The art of painting has a Zen-like flavor; it depends a lot on luck and one's state of mind.

Sometimes, a sudden inspiration strikes, and a masterpiece is created, one that one may never be able to replicate in the future.

The same applies to calligraphy and chess.

Therefore, in the process of painting, many cultivators will naturally stop if they feel that they cannot reach the level of the current painting if they continue painting, since only one painting can remain on the scroll.

Song Yan looked around and found that none of the cultivators who had appeared had handed their paintings to Dao Zi Mo Ling.

Lin Qing had not yet appeared. He asked a stranger next to him and learned that Dao Zi Mo Ling would wait until all the cultivators had finished their paintings before giving their comments to ensure fairness.

He then walked to the side, sat down cross-legged, and waited for time to pass.

The incense burner in the room was three-sevenths full.

……

Within the Ghostly Realm painting.

Zhong Ali stood alone in a dimly lit world, with decaying branches and fallen leaves beneath her feet.

The sky was filled with surging, dark gray clouds.

Such scenery, compared to those beautiful mountains and rivers, and bright flowers and birds, is truly gloomy and terrifying.

However, what was even more terrifying was the scene before Zhong Ali's eyes.

Countless wronged souls and vengeful ghosts lined up in a long queue, slowly wandering and wriggling forward.

Some of them were ragged and had distorted faces.

Some wept softly, others wailed; their voices converged to form a mournful howl that echoed through this ghostly realm.

They seemed to be driven forward by something.

Zhong Ali didn't know where they were going; the direction was obscured by a thick, gray-black fog.

Zhong Ali held a paintbrush tightly in her hand. The ink on the tip of the brush had dried up, but she remained motionless, staring blankly at the end of the line, her thoughts churning.

I seem to have drifted off into thought again.

At the very back of the procession, in the direction she was staring, a gigantic tiger was stepping slowly across this land of the dead.

The tiger's size far surpassed that of ordinary beasts; its back was high and its fur shone with black, gold, and white hues under the dim phosphorescent light.

Abyss, Yellow Springs, White Bones.

The moment she saw the tiger, images of these terrifying creatures flashed through her mind.

Even more astonishingly, a human figure was vaguely sitting on the tiger's back.

Its outline is blurry and indistinct, and it has no face.

As the last group passed in front of her, Zhong Ali felt an overwhelming pressure wash over her, as if a god were looking down on an ant.

Beside the tiger, two little devils hunched over, each with one hand raised, carrying a long object on their shoulder.

It was also blurry, but one could vaguely make out that it was black and gold, and it was unclear whether it was a coffin or some kind of ritual object.

This painting was clearly meant for those participating in the painting contest to complete the figure's appearance and the long object on the little devil's shoulder.

The other cultivators had already finished their paintings and left.

Zhong Ali was left standing there in a daze, and it wasn't that she had encountered any bottleneck; she hadn't missed a single stroke.

To an outsider, this person would surely seem dull-witted, lacking any inspiration, and incapable of creating paintings.

In fact, quite the opposite.

In her mind, there was the image of such a person, and also the image of a huge longsword.

The image in my mind matched almost perfectly with the figure and the object...

It's like having already seen the answers before embarking on a scientific expedition.

She knew what the standard answer to this painting was.

"How could this be so..."

Zhong Ali's excitement and exhilaration lasted only for the very first moment of that day.

He then fell into deep thought.

She spent three days and three nights recalling the events, walking past the fierce ghosts and tigers four times, but still couldn't figure it out.

From her childhood as an ordinary child before she entered the Daoist path, she often had a strange dream.

She was surrounded by a constant stream of evil spirits rushing towards her.

However, those vengeful spirits and vengeful ghosts could never touch him.

Because there will always be a figure appearing in front of you, cutting down all those ghosts and monsters.

This man was riding a fierce tiger, with two little devils carrying an enormous sword beside him.

In every dream she had, she could not see the person's face clearly.

One day, Zhong Ali in her dream couldn't resist her curiosity and lunged forward, actually seeing what this person looked like.

With a leopard-like head, piercing eyes, an iron face, and a bushy beard, he had an unusual appearance.

He wore a scholar's turban on his head and held a folding fan in his hand.

He has a rugged appearance, but his attire makes him look like a scholar.

She wanted to properly thank the other party.

But the other party left in a hurry.

As luck would have it, the very next day, she met the sect leader of the Luofu Sect and was taken into the mountains to cultivate.

She never had that dream again, never dreamed of the vengeful ghost, and of course, never saw that person again.

However, Zhong Ali has never forgotten what that person looked like to this day.

Upon entering this ghostly realm and seeing the familiar tiger and vengeful spirit, she was momentarily dazed.

I almost wondered if I was dreaming.

"..."

She snapped out of her reverie and finally focused her gaze on the drawing paper in front of her.

Time is running out, and racking my brains here won't lead to anything. I might as well finish the painting and leave this place.

She wrote it down almost instantly.

Without any hindrance or obstruction.

Then, she took one last look at the human figure on the tiger's back, picked up the painting in her hand, and left the ghost realm.

(End of this chapter)