Chapter 78: Senior Brother Ma

Chess Star Pavilion, Windback Mountain was the training ground for the inner disciples of the Way of Calligraphy.

Halfway up Windback Mountain stood a two-story pavilion, with a spacious courtyard spread before it, spanning several dozen yards in each direction. The courtyard was filled with peach trees that bloomed throughout the four seasons.

From outside the courtyard, the entire area was shrouded in mist, hazy and indistinct, making it impossible to see clearly.

At this moment, a youth in gray stood outside the courtyard, peering inside again and again. This was Liang Yan.

“This Senior Brother Ma truly has an eccentric temperament,” Liang Yan mused inwardly.

He had already gathered some information before arriving. The master of this place was named Ma Yuan, an inner disciple of the Way of Calligraphy, whose cultivation had reached the ninth level of Qi Refining.

Ma Yuan was renowned for two things: his mastery of artifact refining and his peculiar disposition.

He was reclusive, rarely interacting with fellow disciples, and his abode was usually closed off to visitors. Even elders who had achieved Foundation Establishment often found themselves turned away.

Yet, because his artifact refining skills far surpassed his cultivation level, even those elders could not afford to offend him, and frequently sought his expertise.

Now Liang Yan stood at the entrance to Ma Yuan’s residence, observing the open door but not daring to enter uninvited. The reason was simple: the seemingly enchanting grove of peach blossoms before him.

These peach trees appeared to be planted at random, but in truth, their placement was extremely intricate.

Beautiful as the blossoms were, hidden dangers lurked among them.

“The Ten Hidden Flower Killing Array!” Liang Yan muttered, frowning.

This array was indeed profound, but to Liang Yan, it was merely passable. However, breaking the array required destroying three peach trees, and as he had come to ask a favor, he could hardly act so recklessly.

But without breaking the array, he could not enter. The master of the abode clearly did not wish to see anyone; no matter how loudly he called, there was no response.

As he struggled with this dilemma, his eye caught a glimpse of a thin cord hanging from the lintel above the door.

Liang Yan hesitated briefly, then leaped up and grabbed the end of the cord, pulling it down.

A white paper scroll unfurled, and at the end of the scroll hung a talisman brush.

Almost simultaneously, four talisman papers dropped from either side of the lintel, two on each side, suspended in midair by strings. Each talisman had a completed design, except for a blank space in the center.

Liang Yan was unfamiliar with the Way of Talismans and knew nothing of their workings. But his attention was not on the talismans, but on the central white scroll, upon which four lines of small characters were written:

“A dot divides, a dot combines, a dot remains, a dot diminishes.”

Liang Yan's expression grew strange.

“This Senior Brother Ma is actually playing with riddles from the mundane world?”

He found it both amusing and exasperating, inwardly grumbling at Ma Yuan. But since he had come seeking help, he had no choice but to play along, regardless of what Ma Yuan demanded.

He pondered at the entrance for a while, then took the talisman brush and approached the four papers, writing the characters “Fen,” “Qia,” “Liu,” and “Sha” in the blank spaces, one after another.

As soon as he finished the last character, “Sha,” the four talisman papers stirred without wind, breaking free from their cords and flying into the peach grove.

No sooner had the talismans entered the grove than the mist began to churn violently. Moments later, part of the mist slowly dissipated, revealing a narrow path through the peach trees.

Liang Yan smiled, stepped onto the path, and walked into the courtyard.

The peach grove was not large, and soon the mist vanished and he emerged from the trees.

Before him stood two golden-armored automatons, each wielding a sword, crossed to block the pavilion’s entrance.

“What new trouble is this…” Liang Yan wondered.

These golden-armored automatons seemed highly intelligent. He had no doubt that forcing his way through would trigger their attack.

“But given Senior Brother Ma’s temperament, he surely wouldn’t want others to battle his automatons. There must be a clue.”

Thinking this, Liang Yan moved closer and found a note pasted on the back of the left automaton, which read:

“Better to command a hundred men than to be a mere scholar.”

On the back of the right automaton was a blank note.

“First a riddle, now a couplet. Senior Brother Ma certainly has many hobbies,” Liang Yan remarked with a helpless smile.

“Better to command a hundred men than to be a mere scholar… Since he is a disciple of the Way of Calligraphy, how could he truly disparage scholars…”

Liang Yan frowned in silence for a long time, then suddenly smiled. “What a sly Ma Yuan—he’s just fishing for compliments in a roundabout way.”

He approached the right automaton and, channeling spiritual energy into his fingertip, wrote on the blank note:

“All pursuits are inferior; only learning is supreme!”

As soon as he finished writing, a rumbling sound erupted. The two automatons’ eyes flashed with spiritual light, and they each stepped back, drew their swords upright, and extended a hand toward the door in a gesture of welcome.

“Indeed, self-praise doesn’t count; only the willing praise of others is true flattery…” Liang Yan shook his head with a wry smile, then, without further hesitation, pushed open the door and entered the pavilion.

With a creak, Liang Yan saw before him a square redwood table and a rattan armchair, upon which lay an elderly man well over a hundred years old.

The man’s eyes were closed, hands folded on his chest, rocking the rattan chair and snoring loudly—clearly lost in sleep.

Liang Yan knocked on the door several times, but seeing there was no response, he cleared his throat and called out in a loud voice, “Liang Yan, miscellaneous disciple of the Array Branch, greets Senior Brother Ma!”

The old man’s snores stopped abruptly. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and lifted his head from the chair.

“Hm?”

Ma Yuan was clearly startled upon seeing Liang Yan, then glanced outside at the golden-armored automatons, a strange expression crossing his face as he muttered, “So there are some sharp minds in Chess Star Pavilion after all.”

Liang Yan, seeing his demeanor, could not help but think, “It’s not that others are dull—it’s just that you’re too difficult to deal with.”

But he only thought this to himself; outwardly, he remained respectful. “Forgive me for disturbing your rest, Senior Brother Ma. I wouldn’t trouble you were it not for an urgent matter.”

“Oh?” Ma Yuan glanced at him. “So, tell me—what matter compels you to seek my help?”

“I heard that last year, Senior Brother Ma acquired an antique—a ‘Heavenly Treasure Copper Coin’ from the previous dynasty?” Liang Yan asked.

Ma Yuan squinted, as if recalling the event, and after a while, nodded. “Yes, I did come by such an item last year. During my travels in the mundane world, I happened to save a wealthy merchant, who gave me the antique as thanks.”

Liang Yan’s face brightened. “Would Senior Brother Ma be willing to sell it to me?”

Ma Yuan gave him a sideways glance, replying languidly, “What will you offer? Spirit stones? Anyone who knows me knows spirit stones can’t buy anything from me.”

He paused, then continued, “I have no hope of reaching Foundation Establishment; the ninth level of Qi Refining is my limit. My only ambition now is to enjoy life and wander the mountains. If you can offer something interesting in exchange, I’ll gladly give you the ‘Heavenly Treasure Copper Coin.’ Otherwise, you may return whence you came.”

Liang Yan thought, “Just as expected!”

Such eccentric people could not be dealt with by ordinary means. Fortunately, he had come prepared. Unhurriedly, he took a scroll from his storage pouch.

“What’s this?” Ma Yuan asked, frowning.

“Please take a look, Senior Brother,” Liang Yan said, unrolling the scroll to reveal a calligraphy piece.

“So that’s all? A copy of Huang Zhen’s ‘Gathering at Returning Clouds Pavilion’? What a pity. You went to all that trouble for a forgery—not worth mentioning,” Ma Yuan said, shaking his head in disappointment.

Liang Yan smiled. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Senior Brother. Look closer.”

He pressed his hand to the top of the calligraphy, gently brushing downward. As his palm passed, a layer of the scroll peeled away, revealing a pristine calligraphy beneath. The strokes were vigorous, the brushwork lively—a master’s work.

“‘Record of the Dao of Clouds!’ The ‘Record of the Dao of Clouds’ by Fan Zhang, the Calligraphy Sage of Zhao!” Ma Yuan cried out in astonishment.