"You make it sound simple."
"It became simple after I survived."
"You entered a forbidden region guarded by an Ink Beast, a creature even the Chronicle Lord would not name."
"That Ink Beast was not particularly pleasant."
"You lost most of your cultivation."
"I can cultivate again."
"The Chronicle Lord said your internal inkways can no longer recover."
Zhuquan De looked offended. "Why does he continue telling you everything?"
"Because you tell me almost nothing."
"That is how elders remain mysterious."
Yang Lujia sighed.
Despite the old man's attempts to make the conversation less serious, the blackness covering his fingertips remained.
"You do not owe me anything, Grandpa."
Zhuquan De's expression changed. "I did not save you because I owed you anything."
"You were the one who raised me. However, that still does not mean you have to sacrifice everything whenever something happens to me."
Zhuquan De stood.
Several soft cracks came from his back as he straightened his body. He ignored them, walked toward Yang Lujia, and placed one hand upon his head.
His palm was rough.
The blackened fingertips moved through Yang Lujia's hair, although they no longer carried any heat from the life force once burned through them.
"The world attempted to erase you before you were old enough to understand what existence meant," Zhuquan De said. "Was I supposed to sit here and watch?"
"No."
"Then stop speaking as though I made the wrong decision."
"I did not say it was wrong."
"You are looking at me as though you intend to repay everything."
Yang Lujia became silent.
Zhuquan De immediately understood. "That expression is exactly why I never told you."
"What expression?"
"The one saying that you have already begun calculating how many years it will take before you can restore my cultivation."
Yang Lujia moved the old man's hand away from his head. "I was not calculating anything."
"You were."
"I cannot calculate something when I do not know what you used."
"Good. Then stop trying."
Yang Lujia looked toward the sect buildings beyond their dwelling. "I only want to help you."
"You can help me by not disappearing again."
"That is not entirely under my control."
"Then make it your first cultivation goal."
Yang Lujia turned toward him.
Zhuquan De smiled. "Besides, who said your Page would remain blank forever?"
"The sect has examined me several times."
"The sect's examination cannot recognize everything."
"They said there was no complete foundation inside my body."
"I said it was not complete. I did not say it did not exist."
Yang Lujia remembered something the old man had told him many years ago.
"But you once said that a Blank Page was the strongest foundation."
"It can be."
"Because anything can be written upon it."
"Exactly." Zhuquan De picked up the gourd again. "A Page that already contains a complete script must follow what has been written. A Blank Page still possesses more possibilities."
"Then why have I remained unable to cultivate?"
"Because your foundation has not fully realized itself."
"That sounds like another explanation you created because you do not want to give me an actual answer."
"It is an actual answer."
"It is incomplete."
"Most answers become incomplete after enough questions."
Yang Lujia looked at him without speaking.
Zhuquan De drank from the gourd.
The old man had used the same method throughout Yang Lujia's childhood. Whenever he did not want to discuss something, he buried the truth beneath a statement that sounded meaningful enough to prevent the conversation from immediately continuing.
This time, however, another possibility entered Yang Lujia's mind.
The Eternal Quill System had remained silent since that war.
It did not issue missions. It did not provide regular information or explain why it had revised his conclusion. Apart from several moments when Yang Lujia sensed that something inside his existence had moved, the System seemed to have disappeared.
Perhaps it had not been inactive.
Or the incomplete foundation Zhuquan De described had something to do with it.
After several breaths, Yang Lujia spoke again, "Apart from the manuscripts you ordered me to copy, I also attempted to cultivate."
The gourd stopped before reaching Zhuquan De's mouth. "You did what?"
"I attempted to absorb Ink."
"Did I not tell you to wait?"
"You have told me to wait for fifteen years."
"Because the proper time has not arrived."
"I cannot continue doing nothing."
"You have been writing manuscripts."
"That is not cultivation."
"It is preparation."
"For what?"
Zhuquan De lowered the gourd and looked at him seriously.
"For the moment when your foundation finally begins accepting Ink."
Yang Lujia's expression remained unchanged. "I only tried gathering a small amount."
"How small?"
"Enough to determine whether my body would react."
"And did it?"
Yang Lujia hesitated.
Zhuquan De noticed. "What happened?"
"The Ink disappeared."
"Disappeared where?"
"I do not know."
Zhuquan De moved closer and placed two fingers against Yang Lujia's wrist.
A faint line of blue Ink entered his skin.
Yang Lujia felt it travel through his body. The Ink passed across several points where ordinary Inkways should have existed before reaching the empty space near the center of his Manuscript.
Then it disappeared.
Zhuquan De's expression became more serious.
Yang Lujia watched him. "Is that supposed to happen?"
"No."
"That was what I thought."
"How many times did you attempt it?"
"Seven."
Zhuquan De stared at him.
"Perhaps eight."
"Yang Lujia."
"I stopped when the result did not change."
"You should have stopped after the first attempt."
"I needed to confirm that it was not accidental."
"You could have erased yourself again."
"That is why I used a small amount."
Zhuquan De struck him lightly upon the forehead.
Yang Lujia took one step backward.
"Do not attempt it again without me."
"I cannot promise that."
"You will promise."
"I will try."
"That means you intend to do it again."
"It means I will consider your instruction."
Zhuquan De raised his hand. Yang Lujia moved beyond its reach.
The old man sighed and returned to the bench.
"I want to become stronger," Yang Lujia said.
"You will."
"I want to help you before something happens that cannot be corrected."
Zhuquan De's expression darkened. "Do not say those things."
Yang Lujia looked at him.
"You are the only family I have," he continued. "If you ever begin fading from existence, I want to possess enough strength to pull you back the way you did for me."
"Stop."
Zhuquan De's voice no longer carried its usual amusement. "Do not speak carelessly about calling someone back after Reality has already taken him."
"Why?"
"Because there are things capable of hearing intentions before they become actions."
Yang Lujia narrowed his eyes.
"That thing?"
Zhuquan De realized what he had said.
"What thing, Grandpa?"
"You do not need to know."
"You just warned me that it might attempt to erase me again."
"I warned you not to speak carelessly."
"Is it connected to what happened when I was three?"
Zhuquan De picked up the gourd. "Enough."
"Is it connected to the System?"
The old man drank without answering.
Yang Lujia waited.
Zhuquan De eventually lowered the gourd.
"There are entities beyond this sect, the Verdant Archive, and even the parts of Reality most cultivators believe to be the highest," he said. "Their existence does not follow the same logic as ours. Some will notice you merely because you attempted to understand them."
Yang Lujia listened carefully.
"Always remember that something exists beyond every horizon," Zhuquan De continued. "No matter how high you climb, there will always be another sky above the one you reached."
"Have you seen those entities?"
"I have seen enough to know that seeing more would not benefit me."
"Was one of them responsible for rejecting my existence?"
Zhuquan De looked at him. "You need not know."
The answer confirmed that the old man knew more than he admitted.
Yang Lujia did not continue.
Silence entered the porch.
The wind moved through the manuscripts forming the roof, causing hundreds of pages to rustle above them. Somewhere deeper inside the Dragon Brush Sect, a bell rang once.
Zhuquan De looked toward the sound. "I have somewhere I need to go."
Yang Lujia had expected those words.
The old man had already mentioned an important matter earlier, but the bell appeared to confirm that the time had arrived.
"How long will you be gone?"
"I do not know."
"That is not reassuring."
"It was not intended to be."
"Where are you going?"
"Somewhere outside the sect."
"That describes most places."
Zhuquan De ignored the comment. "You will act as my proxy during the next Trial of Ink."
Yang Lujia looked at him.
"No."
"I was not asking."
"I have successfully avoided every trial held by the sect until now."
"That achievement ends today."
Yang Lujia's face darkened. "Why do I need to attend?"
"Because someone must represent me."
"You can ask another High Archivist."
"I chose you."
"I am not a cultivator."
"You know more about foundations than most of the people who will stand there."
"I learned those things by copying your manuscripts."
"Then the manuscripts were useful."
Yang Lujia became silent.
Zhuquan De smiled as though he had won something.
"You will observe the participants," the old man continued. "Whether you accept anyone as a disciple will be entirely up to you."
Yang Lujia frowned. "A disciple?"
"Yes."
"I cannot cultivate."
"That does not mean you cannot teach."
"What am I supposed to teach someone who may already possess more cultivation than I do?"
"How to think."
"That does not sound like enough."
"For many people, it is more than what they currently possess."
Yang Lujia looked toward the bell tower.
He disliked attending the Trial of Ink. Too many elders used them to compete over talented disciples, while the participants treated every examination as though failing would erase the value of the rest of their lives.
However, Zhuquan De's expression had become unusually serious.
The old man attempted to conceal it beneath his usual smile, but Yang Lujia had spent fifteen years observing him.
This departure was different.
Yang Lujia did not know whether Zhuquan De expected to return soon.
"I will attend the trial," he said.
"Good."
"I will also continue trying to become stronger."
Zhuquan De sighed. "I expected that part."
"I will try."
"You should say you will succeed."
"That would be dishonest when I do not know what my foundation is doing."
"You really know how to ruin a proper declaration."
Yang Lujia looked at him.
"By the way," Zhuquan De said, "do you have something else to tell me?"
"What do you mean?"
"The Chronicle Lord mentioned that you wished to speak with me before I left."
Yang Lujia shook his head.
"I never told him that."
"Then perhaps he misunderstood."
"He rarely misunderstands anything."
"Perhaps he wanted you to say something."
Yang Lujia became silent.
Zhuquan De waited.
Eventually, Yang Lujia looked away. "I only wanted to tell you to take care of yourself."
Zhuquan De blinked.
Then his face brightened.
"Oho?"
Yang Lujia immediately regretted speaking.
"When did my precious grandson become so concerned about his beloved grandfather?" Zhuquan De disappeared from beside the bench.
Yang Lujia sensed him moving and stepped to the side.
The old man passed through the place where he had been standing.
Unable to stop in time, Zhuquan De struck one of the support beams, turned once, and fell face-first onto the porch.
Several old pages dropped from the roof. Yang Lujia looked down at him.
Zhuquan De raised his head. "You avoided your grandfather's embrace."
"You attacked without warning."
"It was affection."
"It was still an attack."
"Ungrateful brat."
Zhuquan De pushed himself upward and brushed several pieces of paper from his robe.
"Just wait until you have a grandson of your own," he complained. "Or even a disciple. Then you will understand."
Yang Lujia considered it. "I believe I would be a dedicated teacher."
Zhuquan De nodded approvingly.
"But I would not be as clingy as you," Yang Lujia continued.
The approval disappeared.
"That is because we are family," the old man said. "Family members are supposed to remain close."
"You attempted to crush me."
"I was embracing you."
"With the strength of a cultivator."
"I controlled it."
"You collided with the house."
"The house moved."
Yang Lujia looked at the support beam.
It had not moved.
Zhuquan De pretended not to notice.
"At the end of the day, family may become the only people you can completely trust," he said.
The humor in his voice gradually faded.
Yang Lujia looked at him. "I know."
The idea of family had always felt unfamiliar to him.
In his first life, he had never known his parents.
In his second, he had also grown up without a family he could truly call his own. He learned how to rely upon himself, how to build relationships based on usefulness, and how to survive without expecting anyone to remain beside him.
This time, however, Zhuquan De found him.
The old man had never asked Yang Lujia to repay the years spent raising him. He complained, drank too much wine, gave him endless manuscripts to copy, and avoided important questions whenever possible.
But he had also risked everything to keep Yang Lujia alive.
Yang Lujia could no longer pretend that the old man was merely someone who happened to rescue him.
Zhuquan De was his grandfather.
Not by blood, but that had stopped mattering many years ago.
"So?" Zhuquan De asked again. "You truly have nothing else to tell this old man before he leaves?"
Yang Lujia met his gaze.
The old man wore the same expression he usually carried whenever he left the dwelling. However, something about it felt different.
Perhaps it was only Yang Lujia's concern.
Or perhaps it was not.
"There is nothing else," Yang Lujia said.
Zhuquan De smiled.
Yang Lujia stepped forward.
Before the old man could react, he wrapped both arms around him.
Zhuquan De became completely still.
Yang Lujia tightened the embrace.
"I love you, Grandpa," he said quietly. "Always."