Thinking about what happened before Zhuquan De left, Yang Lujia could not help but feel embarrassed again.
The old man had not stopped after hearing those three words.
For the rest of the day, Zhuquan De walked throughout the Dragon Brush Sect and told almost everyone he encountered that his grandson loved him.
"Did you hear that? My grandson said he loves me!"
"My Lu'er is unmatched! None of your disciples can compare with him!"
"What is that expression? Are you jealous because you do not have a grandson as good as mine?"
Even several Junior and Senior Scribes had been unable to escape him.
Yang Lujia attempted to remain inside their dwelling until Zhuquan De finally departed, but the old man repeatedly returned just to confirm that he had not misunderstood what Yang Lujia said.
"Say it again."
"No."
"Perhaps I heard incorrectly."
"You heard clearly."
"Then there is no harm in saying it again."
"There is."
Merely remembering the conversation caused Yang Lujia's head to hurt.
Still, he had not regretted saying those words.
'I hope he will be fine.'
Zhuquan De had already left the Dragon Brush Sect several hours ago. He did not explain where he was going or how long the matter would take. He only told Yang Lujia to attend the Trial of Ink as his proxy.
That was why Yang Lujia was currently walking toward the Trial Ground.
The Dragon Brush Sect had been his home for fifteen years, but its appearance still occasionally caused him to stop and look around.
The sect had been built upon a mountain rising from the center of a large and dark lake. From a distance, the entire mountain resembled an enormous calligraphy brush standing upright.
Countless weeping trees covered the lower part of the mountain. Their branches hung above the lake and nearly touched the dark water, resembling the wet bristles of a brush after it had been dipped into Ink.
Several wooden pavilions had been constructed between those trees. Their golden lanterns remained visible even during the day because the thick branches prevented most sunlight from reaching the ground.
A tall pillar of white stone rose from the center of the mountain.
It formed the handle of the brush.
An enormous stone dragon had wrapped itself around the pillar, its body creating a spiraling path leading toward the summit. Roads, temples, and staircases had been built across its scales, while several sections of the Dragon Brush Sect occupied the wide spaces between its claws.
At the highest part of the mountain, the dragon's head faced the sky.
Its mouth remained open, holding a golden sphere between its teeth.
According to Zhuquan De, that sphere had existed before the Dragon Brush Sect was founded. Even the Chronicle Lord did not know who placed it there or what purpose it originally served.
Yang Lujia once asked whether anyone had attempted to remove it.
Zhuquan De told him that several people had tried.
None of them succeeded.
The Trial Ground was located inside the upper portion of the white stone pillar, not far beneath the dragon's head.
Every few years, young people from the surrounding cities, villages, clans, and smaller sects gathered there to participate in the Trial of Ink.
For many of them, being accepted into the Dragon Brush Sect would completely change their lives.
The sect possessed resources ordinary families could never obtain. Its disciples received cultivation techniques, weapons, Ink Pills, and opportunities to enter places normally inaccessible to outsiders. Even someone born without a powerful background could eventually become respected as long as he proved talented enough.
That possibility brought thousands of people to the mountain whenever the Trial of Ink began.
Parents hoped their children would be accepted. Clans hoped to establish a connection with the sect.
Several young participants simply wanted to leave the small places where they had spent their entire lives. All of them had arrived to discover whether they possessed an Ink Imprint worthy of cultivation.
When Yang Lujia reached the Trial Ground, most of the participants had already gathered below the main platform.
The wide area had been carved from pale vellum slate. Under the sunlight, the ground appeared similar to an enormous sheet of polished parchment.
Several hundred boys and girls stood within the marked sections below the platform. Most of them were between ten and fifteen years old. Some wore expensive robes displaying the symbols of their clans, while others had arrived in simple clothes that had already been repaired several times.
Their families and companions remained farther behind them.
The difference in their backgrounds was obvious.
However, during the trial, all of them would be judged by the same thing.
Their Ink Imprints.
Yang Lujia walked toward the elevated platform.
Several Junior and Senior Scribes had already taken their places. The Junior Scribes occupied the lower seats, while the Senior Scribes sat closer to the center.
An Archivist sat among them.
At the highest point of the platform, the Chronicle Lord remained upon a large throne carved from petrified brushwood. Several lines of golden Script moved slowly across its surface before disappearing into the armrests.
Normally, Zhuquan De would have occupied the empty seat beside him.
Today, Yang Lujia was expected to sit there instead.
The moment he stepped onto the platform, several people turned toward him.
The whispers began immediately.
"Is that Yang Lujia?"
"I heard the High Archivist treats him like his own grandson."
"Treats him like one? Did you not hear what happened yesterday? The High Archivist walked throughout the sect telling everyone that the boy loved him."
Someone laughed quietly.
"He even stopped one of the Senior Scribes in the middle of a lecture just to tell him."
"I heard that too."
Yang Lujia continued walking without reacting.
Another person lowered his voice.
"The High Archivist already admitted they are not related by blood. I do not understand why he cares so much about a mortal boy."
"He has a Blank Imprint, correct?"
"Yes. No cultivation and no visible foundation."
"Then why is he representing the High Archivist?"
"Perhaps the old man wanted to give him some importance before he eventually dies as a mortal."
Several participants looked toward Yang Lujia with curiosity.
Others openly showed contempt.
'Let them talk shit about me.'
Yang Lujia reached the empty seat beside the Chronicle Lord and sat down.
He had already heard similar comments throughout his childhood.
Inside the Dragon Brush Sect, a Blank Imprint was usually considered the absence of talent. It meant that the person's existence had failed to form a recognizable foundation.
People with Blank Imprints were sometimes called the Unwritten.
Most could not absorb Ink.
They could not sense their Ink Manuscript, open their first Page, or strengthen their bodies through cultivation. Unless an unusual treasure changed their condition, they would remain ordinary for the rest of their lives.
Yang Lujia's condition appeared similar.
However, Zhuquan De had repeatedly told him that his foundation was not absent.
It was incomplete.
A Blank Page did not contain anything, but that also meant it had not been restricted by anything previously written upon it. In theory, any kind of foundation could still be created.
The problem was that Yang Lujia had not discovered how to write the first stroke.
No matter how many times he attempted to absorb Ink, it disappeared after entering his body. He could not locate the Ink Manuscript that should have existed within him, nor could he find the place where the absorbed energy went.
It was as though something had sealed the first Page of his existence.
The Eternal Quill System had also remained silent.
After revising his death upon the War Battleground, it had never issued another notification. Fifteen years had passed without a mission, an explanation, or even an indication that the System still existed.
Sometimes, Yang Lujia wondered whether he had imagined the entire thing.
However, the memories remained too clear.
He still remembered the translucent vellum, the turning pages, the declaration that his conclusion had been revised, and Zhuquan De's name appearing before the old man picked him up.
The System had been real.
Yang Lujia simply did not understand what it had been doing since then.
The Chronicle Lord glanced at him. "Did Zhuquan De leave without causing trouble?"
Yang Lujia looked toward him. "He informed most of the sect that I loved him."
The Chronicle Lord closed his eyes for a moment. "So that was why he interrupted the council meeting."
"He entered the council meeting?"
"He opened the doors, announced what happened, and left."
Yang Lujia became silent.
The Chronicle Lord released a quiet sigh. "At least he departed afterward."
"He did."
"Did he explain where he was going?"
"No."
The Chronicle Lord's fingers moved slightly against the armrest.
Yang Lujia noticed the reaction but did not ask about it.
If the Chronicle Lord knew where Zhuquan De had gone, he did not appear willing to explain it either.
A Junior Scribe walked toward the front of the platform.
Several sound-amplifying characters appeared around him, causing his voice to reach everyone inside the Trial Ground.
"Silence."
The conversations below gradually stopped.
The participants turned toward the platform.
The Junior Scribe looked across the crowd.
"Every cultivator writes upon Reality," he began. "The Ink Manuscript is the record of everything a cultivator has inscribed into his existence."
Yang Lujia listened quietly.
Zhuquan De had repeated the same explanation many times.
"Your body carries your life," the Junior Scribe continued. "Your soul carries your consciousness. However, your Ink Manuscript carries the existence recognized by Reality itself."
Several of the younger participants appeared confused.
The Junior Scribe expected that reaction.
"When a living being is born, the soul naturally resonates with Reality. That resonance leaves a mark upon the person's Ink Manuscript. We call that mark an Ink Imprint."
He raised one hand. A large sheet of white paper floated above the platform.
Several images appeared upon it.
A sword.
A burning tree.
A river.
A bird covered in lightning.
"Ink Imprints take many forms. Some resemble weapons. Others resemble creatures, objects, elements, or things that cannot be immediately understood. An Ink Imprint affects how a Page absorbs Ink and determines which scriptures are most compatible with his existence."
The children below listened carefully.
For many of them, this was the first time someone had properly explained cultivation.
Yang Lujia looked across their faces.
Some were excited.
Others were visibly nervous.
A few continued pretending not to care, although their tightly closed hands revealed otherwise.
Seeing them reminded Yang Lujia of his previous lives.
He had once been a teacher.
In another life, he became a professor.
Although much had changed since then, the sight of young people waiting to learn something still urged a familiar feeling inside him.
He wanted to teach again.
Not merely stand before a group and repeat information from a manuscript, but guide someone from the beginning and watch how that person changed after understanding something he previously could not.