Chapter 57: The Sublime Calligraphy Gathering

At the summit of Azurewood Peak, the night was deep and silent. Under ordinary circumstances, this was the hour when Liang Yan and Old Deadwood would play their game of chess. Yet tonight, the mountaintop was empty, not a soul to be seen.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the mountain path. A young man in gray, with sword-like brows and bright eyes, climbed to the peak—it was Liang Yan. He hurried to the spot beneath the ancient tree, his gaze searching for the familiar figure of Old Deadwood. Finding the space vacant, he felt a faint pang of disappointment.

"Could it be that the old man is angry with me for missing our appointment, and will no longer play chess with me?"

Liang Yan walked beneath the tree, only to see a chessboard placed atop a massive stone. Black and white pieces had already been set, and above the board, a letter hovered in midair. On its surface was written: "To Liang Yan, dear friend."

"Left for me?" Liang Yan thought, surprised, and reached out to retrieve the letter. Opening it, he read:

"Forgive me, Liang Yan. The Festival of Fine Calligraphy approaches, and I am beset by official duties, unable to meet our appointment in time. The chessboard displays a game I have arranged, which may offer you some diversion."

Reading the letter, Liang Yan breathed a sigh of relief. "So the old gentleman isn't angry—he is simply busy. But what is this 'Festival of Fine Calligraphy'? I've never heard of it."

He pondered for a while, but could find no clue. Thus, he sat beside the stone and turned his attention to the chessboard.

Upon the board, lines of black and white pieces crisscrossed; each side commanded half the territory. Liang Yan studied the arrangement for a long time, and a strange expression gradually appeared on his face.

The art of Go centers around the concept of "encirclement." Though there are countless strategies, all ultimately revolve around the capture of territory. Yet the current board was peculiar: black and white pieces formed dozens of lines, some short, some long, none engaged in direct conflict. It resembled not a chess game, but a black-and-white ink painting—like rivers winding across the board.

"This can't be a real endgame! Could the old man be teasing me?"

Liang Yan's first reaction was that Old Deadwood was playing a prank. But then, recalling the elder's temperament, he doubted this could be so frivolous. With patience, he examined the board once more.

"Ah?"

A spark of insight. He noticed that along one of the black lines, there was a gap—one piece missing.

He paused, then picked up a black stone and placed it in the empty spot with a crisp snap.

A thunderous roar. The scene before Liang Yan shifted wildly. Though he remained seated upon the stone bench, Azurewood Peak had vanished beneath him. In its place, dozens of winding rivers snaked across the landscape, weaving north and south.

Liang Yan was floating high in the sky, or more precisely, the stone bench beneath him held him aloft. Overhead, the full moon hung as if directly above his head.

"Is this some kind of illusion?" As shock filled his heart, the rivers below suddenly surged and roared. Thunder rumbled. A sharp pain struck Liang Yan's mind, and then, abruptly, a string of incantations sounded within his thoughts.

"Azure Water Scarlet Heart Technique!"

The information in his mind revealed the name of the cultivation method. He looked again below—the rivers were not rivers at all, but meridians; the flow of water mirrored the circulation of spiritual energy within the body.

Seated high above, Liang Yan observed the winding rivers, comparing their flow to the incantations in his mind, gradually comprehending their essence.

Had an outsider chanced upon the scene, they would see a gray-robed youth seated upon a stone beneath the old tree, eyes closed, pinching a black stone in his hand, frozen in the posture of placing a piece—like someone entranced.

Time ticked by. When the first pale light appeared at the horizon, Liang Yan suddenly opened his eyes. Sweat drenched his body; his face was pale, but joy shone in his gaze.

"This Azure Water Scarlet Heart Technique is an auxiliary method, able to slightly increase the speed at which Qi Refining cultivators condense their spiritual energy. For someone like me, with poor aptitude, it's precisely what I need. Moreover, it helps when breaking through bottlenecks and resisting inner demons!"

Thinking of the technique's wonders, Liang Yan was quietly delighted. He felt a surge of gratitude toward Old Deadwood—a straightforward, true-hearted elder, both mentor and friend. Old Deadwood had long been aware of Liang Yan's lack of talent, yet never dismissed him, instead offering all possible assistance. It was a stark contrast to Yan Xinyu, warming Liang Yan's heart.

"It's a pity I can't play a few games with him today. Next time, I'll have to wait another month—a great loss of pleasure." Liang Yan shook his head, regret evident on his face.

...

Leaving Azurewood Peak, Liang Yan made his way toward the thatched hut in the apricot grove. Just as he reached the courtyard, a figure approached—it was his fellow disciple, Sun Qianli.

Liang Yan glanced at him, noting his weary face and the bright determination in his eyes, deducing he must have spent another night cultivating in the Spirit Spring cave. Smiling, he said, "Brother Sun, your diligence in cultivation is remarkable. It seems your breakthrough is only a matter of course."

Sun Qianli looked at him in surprise. "You noticed?"

Liang Yan smiled, "I've been busy lately and haven't had a chance to congratulate you on breaking through the third layer of Qi Refining and advancing to the fourth!"

Sun Qianli possessed a secret method to conceal his cultivation. Compared to the cultivators of Yongle Town, his skill was far superior—his aura now barely perceptible, even to Liang Yan.

Sun Qianli gave a bitter smile. "Truly, nothing escapes you, Brother Liang. The reason I've been pushing myself so hard is actually out of necessity."

Liang Yan saw his expression and knew he had his troubles. Every household has its own hard-to-read scripture. Since Sun Qianli didn't wish to elaborate, Liang Yan didn't press him. Besides, his own issue—the red light sphere within him—remained unresolved; he had no energy to help others.

At that moment, Sun Qianli seemed to recall something. "Speaking of which, Brother Liang, every month there's a day when you're absent from the cave. Now, you're not at the hut either. Could it be you're meeting with some confidante in the sect?"

Liang Yan coughed, laughing and scolding, "I didn't expect Brother Sun to be so mischievous. Well, there's no harm in telling you. I'm not in the cave because I go to play chess with a senior."

"A senior?" Sun Qianli looked at him strangely. "Are you saying there's a senior in the sect with enough leisure to play chess with you?"

Liang Yan was struck by his words. "Has something happened in the sect recently?"

"Don't you know? In two months, it's the day of our sect's Festival of Fine Calligraphy."

"The Festival of Fine Calligraphy!"

Liang Yan suddenly remembered—the letter from Old Deadwood had mentioned the festival as the reason he couldn't meet.

"I'm completely ignorant of this matter. Brother Sun, could you enlighten me?"

Sun Qianli nodded. "It's not surprising you don't know. Even Li Dali and I are experiencing it for the first time. The Festival of Fine Calligraphy is a grand event held by our Chess Star Pavilion only once every fifty years!"

"Once every fifty years!"

Liang Yan drew a sharp breath. Ordinary Qi Refining cultivators, though able to strengthen their bodies and extend their lives, remain mortal; their lifespan is at most about a hundred and fifty years. Over a lifetime, they might only witness such an event two or three times.

"On the day of the festival, a Grand Elder who usually remains in seclusion will come forth to lecture and impart teachings. In past festivals, there have been instances where young disciples gained sudden enlightenment and broke through their cultivation on the spot. During the festival, all the branches and paths engage in friendly competitions and exchange their knowledge. The sect offers generous rewards to the victors—occasionally, famed magical treasures or spiritual instruments have appeared."

"Is that so?"

Liang Yan understood at last. "No wonder the old man is absent. Such a festival must be a major event for the sect; he must be helping with preparations."

Sun Qianli saw his realization, but shook his head and continued, "Actually, those aspects are secondary. The most important part of the festival is the competition for the Qilin Dao Fruit. The fruit comes in silver, gold, and white. Foundation Establishment cultivators who consume the silver fruit gain the equivalent of twenty years of hard cultivation; Core Formation cultivators who eat the gold fruit have a chance to improve the quality of their golden core; as for those at the Golden Core stage, eating the white fruit increases their chances of breaking through bottlenecks by ten percent. The Chess Star Pavilion owes this fortune to Patriarch Yi Xing, who, with great power, acquired a Qilin Sacred Tree and planted it in the forbidden grounds behind the pavilion. The tree bears fruit every fifty years—five of each color. The winners of the competitions and those who make significant contributions to the sect in those fifty years receive the fruit."

"In that case, the Festival of Fine Calligraphy truly is the Chess Star Pavilion's foremost event," Liang Yan said, "But do Qi Refining disciples like us have any chance?"

"You wish!" Sun Qianli laughed. "To participate, you must at least have Foundation Establishment cultivation. Only a few Qi Refining disciples with special status are led by elders or masters. As for the Qilin Dao Fruit—forget it!"

"I see."

Liang Yan nodded. For some reason, the image of a slender, white-robed maiden surfaced in his mind. "If it's her, surely she could attend the Festival of Fine Calligraphy."

Thinking of Tang Diexian, Liang Yan fell silent. Sun Qianli noticed his absent-minded state and asked, "Brother Liang, are you alright?"

"I'm fine!"

Liang Yan returned to himself, smiling briskly. He had already sworn not to see her again until he reached Foundation Establishment; why let such thoughts disturb his heart? He was not one for indecision. With a faint smile, he bade Sun Qianli farewell and turned to return to his own quarters.