Immortal Martial Era, March eighteenth.
The hour of the Rooster.
Ye Ping had already been at the Qingyun Dao Sect for a full fifteen days.
Ye Ping had thoroughly comprehended all one thousand four hundred and sixty sword moves of the Four Thunder Sword Art.
In other words, Ye Ping had completely stepped into the realm of perfection with this sword art.
What he needed to comprehend now was sword momentum.
So-called sword momentum was a kind of momentum in the Dao of the Sword.
A sword art with one thousand four hundred and sixty moves—if one truly performed them all, it would be no different from doing radio calisthenics, each move stiff and wooden.
But once sword momentum was condensed, there would be no need for that. As long as you thrust out one sword, it would be equivalent to having all the moves of the entire sword art empowered within that single strike.
Thus, sword momentum was very important. One move equaled an entire sword art.
As for sword intent, that was an even higher-level existence.
A mighty expert who possessed sword intent did not need to draw his sword at all. Merely by standing there, he could suppress his enemies.
Therefore, sword intent was the most profound realm.
Ye Ping had spent fifteen days comprehending the entire sword art. As for the sword momentum that came next, he believed it would not take long for him to comprehend it as well.
However, Ye Ping was not proud, because he knew that the reason he could achieve this was entirely due to his Eldest Senior Brother.
If not for Eldest Senior Brother’s sword scar, it would have been difficult for him to comprehend anything.
When drinking water, one must not forget the person who dug the well. Ye Ping would remember this kindness in his heart.
Thinking back to half a year ago, when he had attended more than fifty Immortal Ascension Assemblies, yet not a single sect wanted him, Ye Ping felt terribly bitter. Now that the Qingyun Dao Sect did not disdain him, Ye Ping naturally engraved this kindness in his heart.
At this thought, Ye Ping could not help but look toward Su Changyu on the cliff not far away, his heart filling with even greater admiration.
“Eldest Senior Brother.”
Ye Ping called out.
On the cliff, Su Changyu had been sitting there for several days in a row.
He did not know what had been wrong with him lately. During the day, he was still quite fine, but as soon as evening approached, he would inexplicably become melancholy.
Perhaps it was because he had suffered a blow, or perhaps because Ye Ping’s heaven-defying aptitude made him begin to doubt himself. He wondered whether he was simply unsuited to cultivating the Dao of the Sword.
Yet just then, Su Changyu heard Ye Ping’s voice and could not help but turn his head.
“What is it?”
Su Changyu’s expression was calm.
“Eldest Senior Brother, Junior Brother has already comprehended all one thousand four hundred and sixty sword moves. I came to inform you.”
Below the cliff, Ye Ping spoke calmly.
As soon as these words were spoken, Su Changyu, who was already gloomy, felt even worse.
He was so sour.
But he could only be sour in silence. Most importantly, Ye Ping was clearly very strong, yet he acted as though he were terribly weak.
As for himself, he was clearly as weak as a chick, yet he still had to act as though he were extremely strong.
No matter how thick-skinned he was, this was hard to endure.
“Then rest properly for a while. Don’t work too hard either. We cultivators must understand the balance between work and rest. As the saying goes, haste makes waste. You should understand this principle, yes?”
After a while, Su Changyu spoke, telling Ye Ping to rest for a while. At the same time, he was filled with emotion.
Geniuses were not terrifying. What was terrifying was when geniuses also worked hard. That was what truly made people despair.
“Many thanks for Senior Brother’s guidance.”
Below the cliff.
Ye Ping nodded.
Over these fifteen days, he had indeed been diligent and conscientious, forgetting sleep and meals, and had not had the slightest time to rest.
Although one should be hardworking, being too hardworking was not good either. At the appropriate time, one truly did need to rest.
Good. He would give himself half an hour off.
Ye Ping nodded, then sat down on the ground and emptied his mind.
He looked toward the Qingyun Dao Sect.
The evening glow unfurled along the horizon, and the Qingyun Mountain Range was reflected in a faint red hue. Everything was silent, yet filled with poetic charm.
At this moment, Ye Ping stretched his waist, swept his gaze over the beautiful scenery of the Qingyun Dao Sect, and then could not help but slowly speak.
“The evening glow veils Qingyun Peak; Hengyue’s heights and depths blaze red.”
“I wish to learn Qingzhou’s cultivation arts, and at dawn dine on a wisp of wind.”
Ye Ping spoke.
He could not help but recite a poem.
This was written by the Southern Song poet Lin Yongzhong.
However, Ye Ping had made slight changes, changing Zhurong Peak to Qingyun Peak, and changing “I wish to learn Lingyang’s cultivation arts” to “I wish to learn Qingzhou’s cultivation arts.”
A small alteration, yet the artistic conception remained unchanged. This was probably the highest realm of being a literary copyist.
Ye Ping felt slightly proud in his heart.
Although in the cultivation world he was a good-for-nothing, within the State of Jin, he could still be considered somewhat famous, right?
However, Ye Ping was indeed being modest. In the State of Jin, he was not merely “somewhat famous.”
To say a single word of his was worth a thousand gold would be an insult to his status.
The nobles and powerful figures of the State of Jin loved zither, chess, poetry, and painting most of all, and Ye Ping happened to be the object of their admiration. Thus, if not for the fact that this was a world of cultivation, Ye Ping could have lived very comfortably in the State of Jin.
But Ye Ping did not regret it in the slightest.
In his eyes, all other pursuits were inferior; only cultivating immortality stood supreme.
And at this very moment.
Su Changyu, standing on the rear cliff, moved slightly.
He changed his posture and turned his gaze toward Ye Ping.
First, because his legs had gone numb.
Second, because the poem Ye Ping had just composed had drawn his attention.
Su Changyu had no culture.
But even he could tell that Ye Ping’s poem was quite good.
Thinking of Ye Ping’s background, Su Changyu could not help but ask curiously.
“Little Junior Brother, I heard from Sect Master that before you came up the mountain, you were still a scholar?”
Su Changyu asked.
“Replying to Senior Brother, I could be considered half a scholar.”
Ye Ping hurriedly answered, not daring to be arrogant.
“Half a scholar?”
Su Changyu grew curious. What did “half a scholar” mean?
“I had yet to obtain scholarly honors, so I can only be considered half a scholar.”
Ye Ping immediately answered, not keeping him in suspense.
“Oh.” Su Changyu nodded. He did not really understand.
But at the end, Su Changyu continued asking.
“Then, Little Junior Brother, do you know the art of painting?”
Su Changyu asked.
“I know a little.”
Ye Ping said very modestly.
“Then make a painting for your Senior Brother.”
Su Changyu spoke. It was not that he had suddenly thought of it; he merely felt that if Ye Ping knew the art of painting, then when Ye Ping truly rose to great heights in the future, he would have something to brag about.
See that? The number one sword cultivator of the State of Jin once painted a portrait of me.
Su Changyu had no particular hobbies. His only hobby was showing off.
“All right. Senior Brother, please wait a moment. I’ll go fetch brush and ink.”
Ye Ping nodded.
Painting and sketching were things he was skilled at—not because he was interested, but because in his previous life, in order to pursue a goddess, he had joined a painting society. Then, after three years of bitter practice, he had finally learned how to paint. However, the goddess ran off with a rich second-generation heir.
Thus, Ye Ping understood a principle.
Learning to paint could not save a single dog.
Before long, Ye Ping brought over a brush, xuan paper, and an inkstone.
He had brought these things with him before going up the mountain; there had simply never been anywhere to use them. Now was just right.
After fetching the writing materials, Ye Ping became very serious. He looked at the color of the evening glow, then at this Eldest Senior Brother of his, and afterward began to move his brush.
Su Changyu did not think much of it either. He stood up, quietly gazing at the evening glow, leaving behind a graceful posture.
An hour later.
The painting was finished.