Under One Person: I Have a Billion Taoist Gods Within Me

at the same time...

Xiao Guan Shihua sat beside her mother, holding her small teacup properly and sipping the sweet osmanthus drink in small sips.

She didn't really understand who won the match just now, but she thought the two older brothers fought very well, with the sparks flashing like fireworks in the first month of the lunar calendar.

But the handsome older brother in the moon-white shirt stood very steadily from beginning to end, not a single hair on his head was out of place.

She glanced at Lu Jin secretly, then quickly lowered her head, her little face flushed.

My mother said that a girl shouldn't stare at a man for too long, or people will laugh at her.

But... but that older brother is really handsome.

His eyes crinkled when he smiled, and his voice was pleasant to hear, even more dashing than the "Jade-Faced Young General" told by the town's storyteller.

Moreover, he wasn't arrogant even after winning. He politely bowed to the older brother of Huo Dezong, showing no sign of looking down on him.

Guan Shihua was too young to understand what "a gentleman is like jade" meant.

But she felt that Lu Jin was probably the "gentleman" described in the book.

As she was thinking, she suddenly felt a burning gaze staring intently at her from the side.

Guan Shihua turned her head.

Wang Ai's chubby little face was suddenly very close, her black bean-like eyes wide open, her cheeks bulging, like an angry hamster.

Guan Shihua was startled: "What...what are you doing?"

Wang Ai didn't speak, but followed her gaze and glared fiercely at Lu Jin, who was drinking tea in the distance.

That look in his eyes was just like looking at a thief who stole his family's pickled vegetables.

Guan Shihua asked, bewildered, "Why are you glaring at me?"

Wang Ai looked away, puffed out her cheeks, and said in a muffled voice, "No...nothing!"

He paused, then couldn't help but add:

"What's so good-looking about him? He's just a little thinner, a little paler, and a little straighter!"

Guan Shihua blinked and answered honestly, "But he really is very handsome."

Wang Ai: "......"

Wang Ai's chubby face became even rounder.

He turned away angrily, no longer looking at Guan Shihua.

Instead, he stared intently at the spot in the center of the courtyard where Lu Jin had just stood, a small flame of resentment igniting in his eyes.

Guan Shihua did not say "Lu Jin is very powerful".

She said, "Lu Jin is very good-looking."

This gave the chubby Wang Ai an unprecedented feeling—not a crisis, but a more complex, subtle, and indescribable emotion.

He couldn't explain what it was either.

All he knew was that he couldn't let that guy surnamed Lu show off in front of Guan Shihua.

He needs to prove that he's also very capable!

No, he's even better than him!

Wang Ai suddenly stood up.

The movement was too big, and his chubby little leg bumped into the table leg, making the teacup rattle and spill half a cup of tea onto his newly changed red brocade jacket.

He didn't even bother wiping it; he slammed his chubby little hand on the table and shouted crisply:

"I want to come too!"

The shout was loud and clear, with a childish tone but an undeniable air of arrogance, instantly drowning out the whispers and discussions in the courtyard and drawing everyone's attention.

Wang Wang was exchanging pleasantries with Lü Jian, who was sitting next to him, when he heard this and his hand trembled, almost spilling the tea in his teacup onto his robe.

He turned his head and looked at his chubby son, who was so arrogant and full of himself, with a look of "I'm going to war" on his face. The veins on his forehead throbbed.

"Aier!"

Wang Wang lowered his voice and spoke sternly.

"Stop fooling around! Is this a place for you to play around?"

"I'm not messing around!" Wang Ai retorted, her chubby face turning bright red.

"Dad, I can do more than just fishing! You always said I'm 'talented but lack polishing,' so I'll polish myself up and show the world!"

He paused, then added confidently:

"Furthermore, Uncle Lu just said that it should end when the point is reached, a friendly exchange of martial arts!"

"I'm just asking Brother Lu for a few pointers; it's a friendly exchange! He can't be the only one showing off, and I can't demonstrate my skills, can I?"

Wang Wang was speechless, choked by his twisted logic.

He certainly knew what his son's "spirituality" was all about; it was a far cry from proper "cultivation."

Fishing, coaxing cats, and making little fuss with colored sand on the ground are all fine, but what about fighting against Lu Jin, the direct descendant of the San Yi Sect and a disciple who has entered the sect through the Reverse Rebirth Triple?

This isn't a friendly gathering; this is asking for a beating.

He was about to forcibly push his son back into his seat.

"Hehe, Patriarch Wang, there's no need to be angry."

An aged yet kind voice came from the direction of the main seat.

Grandpa Lu stroked his white beard, smiling as he looked at Wang Ai, his eyes full of the tolerance and amusement an elder has for his mischievous grandchild.

"This little boy is quite robust and has a bit of his father's style back in the day."

"Master Wang, since your son has this intention, why not let him give it a try?"

"Young people should have a bit of spirit, that's a good thing. Besides, with so many eyes watching, Jin'er knows what she's doing. She wouldn't really hurt this little kid, would she?"

Wang Wang's lips twitched.

He thought to himself, "Grandpa, you don't understand this wretched child of mine."

What he feared was not that Lu Jin would hurt Wang Ai.

What he feared was that Wang Ai's "spur-of-the-moment" unorthodox methods would embarrass the Wang family in front of all the heroes of the world!

But since the old man had already spoken, he, as a junior, couldn't very well refuse the birthday celebrant in public.

Wang Wang took a deep breath, forced a smile, turned to Wang Ai, and his voice was squeezed out through clenched teeth:

"Ai'er, since Old Master Lu has agreed, you should... go and learn a few moves from Young Master Lu."

He paused, then emphasized:

"Remember, know when to stop, and don't be rude."

He lowered his voice even further, almost whispering:

"No more of your fancy tricks! No more drawing on the ground! No more scattering colored sand everywhere!"

Wang Ai readily agreed, "Okay, okay!"

Then it darted out in a flash, its chubby little legs moving incredibly fast, like a rolling red ball.

Wang Wang covered his face.

Wang Ai had already run to the center of the courtyard and stood about three zhang away from Lu Jin's seat.

He tilted his round face up and clasped his hands in a fist salute to Lu Jin.

The gesture of clasping hands was quite standard, something Wang Wang had forced him to teach over the years. It was methodical and showed the demeanor of a scion of a noble family.

"Wang Ai of the Wang family wishes to learn from Brother Lu!"

His voice was clear and loud, and he puffed out his chest, trying his best to look like a majestic general.

Unfortunately, that round face and chubby cheeks were far from "majestic".

A soft, friendly laugh rippled through the crowd.

Lu Jin had already stood up. He looked at the chubby boy in front of him, who was only up to his chest and whose face seemed to say "I'm awesome." He was stunned for a moment, then a gentle smile appeared on his face.

He showed no disrespect for the other party because of her youth, but instead solemnly returned the greeting with clasped hands and a slight bow, bringing his gaze level with Wang Ai's.

"Greetings, Prince Wang."

"Lu Jin of the Sanyi Sect is willing to learn the unique skills of the Wang family's Divine Scripture."

He paused, his eyes filled with genuine appreciation:

"I just heard that Wang Shidi used colored sand to paint and sugar sticks as brushes at Chengxin Water Pavilion, attracting koi to leap in the water."

"Although my younger brother is young, his intelligence is already extraordinary. I am honored to be able to exchange ideas with him today."

Wang Ai was stunned.

He was prepared to be looked down upon, ridiculed, and told to "go play somewhere else, you little brat."

He even had his rebuttal lines ready: something like "Ambition knows no age," something like "A young person with great ambitions," something like "How can a sparrow know the ambitions of a swan"...

But Lu Jin didn't look down on him; instead, she praised him earnestly.

He was still praising his unorthodox fishing method, which his father scolded as "nonsense."

Wang Ai blinked, momentarily at a loss for words.

The chubby boy's face turned even redder.

His stiff neck subtly relaxed, and his voice softened, becoming somewhat awkward and hurried.

"That's just a trivial skill, not worth mentioning..."

He paused, then couldn't help but add in a low voice:

"Brother, you were truly formidable when you received that palm strike from Little Fire God just now."

Upon hearing this, Lu Jin's smile deepened.

"Then let us verify each other's work and learn from each other."

Wang Ai nodded vigorously.

He took a deep breath, stepped back two paces, and solemnly took out two items from the bulging brocade pouch at his waist.

It's not colored sand.

It's not a sugar figurine stick.

Instead, it was a fine-tubed pen that was entirely black with dark gold cloud and thunder patterns engraved on the handle, and a roll of blank Xuan paper about the size of a palm with silver threads pressed along the edges.

Wang Wang watched from afar, his tense expression relaxing slightly.

These are legitimate ritual implements passed down through generations of the Wang family's divine art. The pen is named "Painting Gold" and the paper is named "Inheriting Wishes".

Although Ai'er usually liked to play around and cause trouble, she knew what was important when it mattered and didn't dare to embarrass herself with those low-class things.

As Wang Ai held the pen, her entire demeanor changed.

That round face, usually always playful and full of mischievous ideas, was unusually focused at this moment, even showing a calmness beyond its years.

He did not start writing immediately.

Instead, she closed her eyes first.

The hustle and bustle of the courtyard seemed to be shut out at this moment.

He stood quietly, the "gilding" brush hovering in his palm, tip pointing downwards, less than an inch from the Xuan paper.

There is no ink.

The Wang family's divine painting method uses the heart as ink and intention as color.

Three breaths.

Five breaths.

Nine breaths.

Just as some people started whispering, "Is this little baby asleep?"

Wang Ai opened her eyes.

In that instant, something seemed to suddenly light up deep within his beady black eyes.

It is neither the blazing flames of the Fire Virtue Sect nor the clear light of the Reverse Life Triple.

Rather, it is a more subtle and profound "meaning".

He put down his pen.

The moment the brush tip touches the rice paper, there is no ink bleeding or color spreading.

However, everyone, even the junior disciples with the lowest cultivation level, "sense" a certain change.

That is the bestowal of "existence".

That was "nothingness" being filled.

That is, on a blank sheet of rice paper, the edge of a "world" is being born.

Wang Ai's brushstrokes were incredibly fast, a stark contrast to the scribbling he had done earlier while "fishing" at Chengxin Water Pavilion.

Every stroke is crisp and clean, every line is precise and powerful.

He didn't draw fish, seaweed, or those childish doodles.

What he drew was—

mountain.

The first stroke is a slanted line, swept with the side of the brush belly, which quickly outlines the rugged and steep mountain ridge.

With another stroke, a light touch and pause with the tip of the brush, and in an instant, layers of cliff texture are created.

The third stroke, a dry brush dragging horizontally, conveys the idea but the brush doesn't quite reach it, creating a misty cloud swirling around the mountainside, both real and ethereal, seemingly there yet not there.

Wang Wang sat at the table, watching his son's brushstrokes, his pupils slightly contracting.

This is not something he, as a father, taught me.

It wasn't even taught by any of the elders in the Wang family.

This was something Ai'er figured out himself...

You don't need ink to paint mountains.

Yet it makes the existence of the mountain more "visible" than any vivid description.

Each brushstroke on the rice paper is less a "graphic" and more a "trajectory of thought".

The mountain's "danger" and "steepness"...

The "illusory" and "vast" nature of clouds and mist...

The "coldness" and "hardness" of the cliff face —

These "images" that should have been presented visually were directly "defined" on this piece of paper by Wang Ai in an almost domineering manner.

He wasn't painting a mountain.

He was saying: There is a mountain here.

And so, the mountain came into being.

The moment Wang Ai finished the last stroke and raised his wrist to finish the stroke.

On that piece of Xuan paper, no bigger than the palm of your hand, a layer of extremely restrained yet genuine spiritual light suddenly emanated.

A flash of inspiration is fleeting.

However, in that fleeting moment of inspiration, everyone vaguely saw...

A majestic, verdant mountain peak loomed behind Wang Ai, echoing the brushstrokes on the Xuan paper.

The mountain shadow lasted for less than a breath before vanishing without a trace.

But the shock of that one breath was enough to make many senior figures present show genuine astonishment and respect.

Wang Ai was panting heavily, and the chubby boy's face was covered in sweat.

He was still young and his cultivation foundation was still shallow. Forcibly "defining" the "meaning" of a complete mountain shape using the method of divine painting was a huge burden for him.

But he didn't stop.

With difficulty, he raised his hand and gently pushed forward the sheet of Xuan paper that bore the image of "mountain".

The Xuan paper fluttered to the ground.

But the "mountain" stood silently in the center of the courtyard, unnoticed by anyone.

It is not a physical mountain.

There are no mountains, rocks, grass, or trees; there is no weight or volume.

But Lu Jin clearly "senses" it.

An invisible, heavy, and insurmountable barrier has been erected between him and Wang Ai.

That barrier had no physical form, yet it was more difficult to break through than any physical object.

Because it is not an obstacle of "force".

It is the judgment of "meaning".

—This road is blocked.

—The mountain is here.

—You can't come!