Chapter Sixty-One: The Fire Within Ink and Water

"By the way, Brother Lu, you must keep this item safe," Shangguan Chuci said, his gaze drifting to the marionette resting beside the couch. As he looked at the doll's face, its innocence tinged with something uncanny, his delicate brows knit together and he added, "After last night's battle, this puppet has absorbed your vital essence. It seems even more strange now, and who knows what change it has undergone. The Demon Suppression Bureau will surely come to investigate in the coming days. You must not let them see it, lest more troubles arise."

Since Lu Chenyuan had awakened, he had constantly felt as if unseen eyes were watching him from the shadows, like needles pricking his back. At her mention, he gathered his focus and finally sensed that the source of that gaze was none other than this disaster effigy entrusted to him by Qian Dahai before his death.

He fixed his attention on the doll and saw that at the corners of its mouth, several new hair-thin cracks had split open. The face, already eerily lifelike, now seemed seven parts alive, yet that vitality was so chilling and grim that it made one's heart freeze.

He could not help but recall the lonely island of bone and dead wood he had seen in the sea of his mind. For a moment, he did not know whether to feel reassured or afraid.

As this thought stirred, a buzzing filled his head, and the monstrous image from his mind—the cage of flesh and blood, the eyes of demons covering its body—reemerged. Lu Chenyuan was shaken to his core, and in an instant, he felt as if his consciousness was being drawn by some invisible force into a void and illusory realm.

All around was pitch black; he could not see his hand before his face, nor hear a single sound.

"Where am I? Have I... fallen into a nightmare again?"

As he wavered between fear and doubt, a glimmer appeared in the darkness. In a flash, countless fragments of memory and fleeting images rose in his mind.

He saw the kindly, ancient face of an old man gently speaking to a youth: "Zhuo'er, the way of the sword and the way of painting may be different paths, but they lead to the same truth and to immortality. Since you are not fated for the sword, you must devote yourself to painting."

Hearing the name "Zhuo'er," Lu Chenyuan's heart stirred. "Is this... could these be the past memories of that demon sorcerer Wei Zhuo?"

The vision shifted. He saw the youth bent over his desk, brush moving with the force of a dragon, seemingly painting landscapes. Yet when the painting was done, the youth's face was full of frustration. He crumpled the painting into a ball and hurled it into the corner.

Between gritted teeth, the youth muttered to himself, "Two years! Why has my skill shown not the slightest progress?"

Seeing this, Lu Chenyuan sighed inwardly, "So even one as wicked as this once suffered the pain of seeking the great path and failing to find it."

Just then, it was as if the youth had suddenly realized something. A fierce light blazed in his eyes. "That's it! The heart's fire can illuminate the turbid flow. The world believes the turbid flow is an obstacle to cultivation, but if I use the heart's fire to observe the world, what I see will be utterly different. If I paint that, what scene will emerge?"

He immediately kindled his heart's fire and took up the brush once more. As ink touched the paper, the painting seemed to come alive. Mountains were no longer mountains, water was no longer water—his brush conjured twisted, uncanny forms suffused with the aura of the turbid flow.

Time passed, but the painting was never finished.

Suddenly, a disciple burst in, pale as death, crying out in alarm, "Senior brother, something terrible has happened!"

"What has you so shaken?"

"Do you remember that scroll, 'Celestial Palace of the Nine Heavens,' which you copied half a month ago? A prince bought it for a thousand gold pieces and hung it in his mansion, admiring it day and night… Now that prince has gone mad! The Demon Suppression Bureau has heard of it and is coming to arrest you!"

Thunder and lightning crashed, and rain poured down in torrents. The youth fled in panic, the scroll slipping from his grasp and falling into the muddy earth.

At that moment, a number of armored agents of the Demon Suppression Bureau surrounded him. Just as danger loomed, a hissing sound was heard—a gigantic serpent's head burst from the shadows and swallowed the lead officer whole; the rest were flung aside.

A figure in ink-black Daoist robes walked slowly through the mud until he stood before the youth. In a flash of lightning, his hideous face was revealed.

Though Lu Chenyuan knew this was but a vision, his heart leaped in fright: "It's Master Li!"

He watched as Master Li picked up the scroll from the mud, glanced at it, then looked at Wei Zhuo, clicking his tongue in admiration: "Not bad, not bad. Without even being initiated, you have discovered the method to channel the turbid flow into your paintings. Boy, you were born to be one of our sacred order."

At that, the vision ended abruptly.

The myriad flickering images coalesced before Lu Chenyuan's eyes, finally forming a black flame like ink. The black fire blazed up, illuminating the world around him.

Lu Chenyuan looked closely.

He saw a range of mountains, drawn in ink, stretching endlessly before him—bizarre peaks rendered in bold strokes. Beneath those mountains, turbid currents formed rivers, surging ceaselessly.

"The ink fire... could this be the heart's fire of that Wei Zhuo?"

Lu Chenyuan recalled that before he lost consciousness, his mutated right arm had indeed transformed into a maw and devoured all the heart's fire that had become the demon painting.

"If so, what I see now must be that demon's heart's fire. But what are these ink-painted mountains?"

Suddenly, he remembered what Shangguan Chuci had said: the heart's fire is kindled only with one's own foundation as fuel. If he had merely devoured the heart's fire, it would be a rootless flame, incapable of conjuring such a vast inner world—unless...

A wild, incredible thought struck Lu Chenyuan.

"Could it be... not only did I consume his heart's fire, I forcibly seized the very foundation of all his life's cultivation as well?!"

As he struggled with shock and doubt, a familiar voice sounded at his ear: "Brother Lu, have you been cursed? You've been staring at that puppet, eyes dull and mind wandering, and didn't respond no matter how I called you."

Lu Chenyuan's heart jolted, and his consciousness was drawn out from that strange and dazzling vision, the world before him regaining clarity.

His gaze swept first over the marionette, then to Shangguan Chuci's face—still beautiful, but pale from injury.

Lu Chenyuan thought to himself, "This is truly inconceivable. If I told anyone, they'd think me mad. Yet Chuci is wise and broad-minded, far beyond ordinary people—perhaps she can help me resolve this puzzle. Besides, she risked her life to save me—how could I repay such loyalty with secrecy? If I hid this from her, wouldn't that be petty?"

These thoughts spun through his mind in a mere moment. At last, he steeled his resolve, raised his head, and said to Shangguan Chuci in a low voice, "My lady, there is indeed a strange matter weighing on my heart. I wish to tell you, if you are willing to listen."

Having made his decision, Lu Chenyuan felt no further hesitation. To him, it was simple: in this life, true confidants are rare, and she had risked everything for him—how could he withhold the truth? If he could not trust someone so loyal and sincere, who else in this vast world could he trust?

Seeing the gravity in his expression, Shangguan Chuci sensed this was no simple matter, and her curiosity was piqued. When she heard his words, she smiled faintly—though the effort brought a trace of fatigue to her face, her smile remained bright and lovely.

She closed her white jade folding fan and said, "Since Brother Lu is willing to share his secret with me, it means you no longer see me as an outsider. Such trust, how could I betray it? Speak freely."