novelraw Chapter 982 976: Painting the Myriad Realms
Chapter 982 976: Painting the Myriad Realms
"Saint Master!"
"How could this be?"
"You despicable individual, you set me up. Why didn't you reveal your identity as a Saint Master earlier?"
The scribe's eyes widened in fury, his face twisted as he shouted hysterically.
Saint Master!
Since the birth of the myriad worlds, the path of calligraphy has never seen a Saint Master. Had he known Wang Xizhi was a Saint Master of calligraphy, he surely wouldn't have dared to debate against him.
He wouldn't have made that so-called Dao Oath either!
"Set you up? If you were honest, could I have harmed you? Ultimately, it's you who harmed yourself. You've forgotten that at the core, a scholar must uphold integrity with others!"
Wang Xizhi said calmly.
The reason he held back was out of fear that the scribe wouldn't own up.
Unexpectedly, the scribe, in a bid to win, foolishly made a Dao Oath.
Boom!
At that moment, the cosmos churned, an invincible will from above descended.
Everyone felt a chill in their hearts.
The Will of the Heavens had appeared!
In the next breath.
A heavenly punishment containing endless destruction descended, striking towards the scribe.
"No!"
The scribe's pupils contracted sharply; amidst desperate wails, his Dao heart was obliterated by the heavenly punishment, reducing him to a crippled state.
After losing his cultivation, the scribe quickly withered away, his hair turned white, and within a few breaths, he became a corpse, then disintegrated into dust.
Just like that, a master of calligraphy perished under his own 'cleverness'.
Heaven and earth fell silent.
Neither the onlooking martial artists nor the countless disciples of the Literary Realm expected such an outcome.
Oh, the scribe!
He was a giant on the path of calligraphy, and few in the Literary Dao could surpass him.
But now.
Not only did he lose the competition.
He also lost his life.
"Master!"
The scribe's disciple, Shu Wuyi, was dumbfounded, staring at the vanishing body as memories of the past flashed through his mind. Two thousand years of master-disciple bond—was it now severed by life and death?
And the instigator of all this was the Qin Dynasty's celestial court.
"Wang Xizhi, I am irreconcilable with you!"
An intense grief and rage almost overpowered Shu Wuyi's senses as he glared, eyes bloodshot, and clenched his teeth, shouting.
His eyes were like those of a bloodthirsty, starving wolf.
"Not good!"
Within the Literary Realm, many academy elders were shocked and rushed forward hastily.
But someone was faster than them, and that was Wang Xizhi. With a swipe of the pen in his hand, a gleam of literary light shot out, separating Shu Wuyi's head from his body.
"You..."
Several academy elders looked at Shu Wuyi's body, pointed at Wang Xizhi in anger.
"Is someone so mindless really worth your defense?"
Wang Xizhi said calmly.
He was a scholar but also had a backbone. Naturally, he wouldn't allow his enemies to grow unchecked.
Slay the weeds and eliminate the roots.
Only then could he sleep peacefully in the future.
"Alas!"
"All of you, stand down!"
At this moment, a long voice came from within the Literary Realm.
At the pavilion in the lake at Wen Palace, Wen Moke shook his head, not disappointed by the failed debate, but by the performances of the scribe and Shu Wuyi.
How could someone who can't even accept 'defeat' possibly win?
In the starry sky, several academy elders were stunned and reluctantly said, "Dean, he killed Shu Wuyi..."
"Stand down!"
The voice came again, tinged with dissatisfaction.
The academy elders opened their mouths slightly, not daring to oppose, and respectfully bowed, "As you command, Dean!"
With that, they picked up Shu Wuyi's body and left dejectedly.
"Dean?"
Wang Xizhi's eyes flickered as he gazed towards the Literary Realm, through time and space, and saw an old man fishing. A smile curled at the corners of his mouth, realizing there were still those who understood the truth!
"Let's debate on the path of painting!"
On the continent of literature, Gui Guzi spoke to Wu Daozi.
Wu Daozi nodded, walked onto the world's celestial canopy, hands behind his back, surrounded by literary aura, matching Wang Xizhi.
"I am Wu Daozi, master of the path of painting. Who will debate with me?"
Wu Daozi's loud voice echoed across the heavens, resonating through myriad worlds, reaching the ears of countless art academy disciples.
"I will debate!"
The grand elder of the art academy ascended, standing on the world's celestial canopy.
"Very well, I shall paint, and if you can point out any flaw, then I concede!"
Wu Daozi wasted no time, taking out a brush, using the Dao of painting as ink, and with the endless stars as the background, began depicting a prosperous scene.
A stroke fell, and mountains appeared!
Two strokes fell, and lands appeared!
Three strokes fell, and countless lifeforms appeared!
Four strokes fell, and a borderless world appeared...
With each stroke, endless transformations occurred, adding countless sceneries.
At first, people didn't quite grasp what Wu Daozi was painting, but gradually, a trace of shock appeared on everyone's faces.
"The Second Heaven!"
When Wu Daozi laid down the tenth stroke, the second heaven of the myriad worlds appeared in the painting.
The countless stars within the painting intertwined with the endless galaxy of the eighth heaven, appearing incredibly dreamlike. Clearly items in the painting, yet they seemed authentically real.
To the point where those with weak Dao hearts thought the second heaven and the eighth heaven had overlapped.
"Is he painting the myriad worlds?"
The coarse-clothed youth stopped reading and fixated on Wu Daozi, murmuring, "This Qin Dynasty's celestial court truly has some monsters! One calligraphy Saint Master, and now a painting Saint Master!"
"Little book, oh little book!"
"You say I'm Tianming, yet I'm not as accomplished as Qin Wudao. Are you fooling me?"
The coarse-clothed youth kept complaining, but with a hint of a smile on his face.
Strangely, his voice didn't carry out, and even those standing beside him didn't hear a thing.
The ancient book flashed with golden light, flickering now and then.
On the world's celestial canopy of the Literary Realm, Wu Daozi didn't pause his brush, dropping the eleventh stroke.
This stroke portrayed the Third Heaven!
"Hiss, is he really drawing the myriad worlds?"
The quick-witted spectators finally caught on, sucking in a cold breath, their scalps tingling in extreme shock.
How dare he?
Yet they couldn't help but harbor a trace of anticipation.
Since time immemorial, no painter dared to depict the myriad worlds due to the unbearable consequence of obliterating one's body under the weight of karma.
During the chaotic ancient epoch, a supreme painter from the ancient demon court attempted to encapsulate the great thousand worlds into a painting for strategic purposes.
But only halfway through, the painter bled from all orifices and died.
From then on.
The path of painting established the rule of three "do-not-paint" principles.
First, do not paint the myriad worlds.
Second, do not paint the Three Thousand Great Daos.
Third, do not paint the Supreme Saints.
"Can he succeed?"
"If he succeeds, regardless of any flaws, I willingly concede!"
Even the grand elder of the art academy earnestly watched Wu Daozi with great anticipation.
He was a relatively pure painter, devoted to the path of painting, and in his youth, he had sworn a great vow to someday paint the myriad worlds for all to admire.
But as his realm improved, he increasingly sensed the vastness of the myriad worlds, impossible to encapsulate in one painting.
What he couldn't achieve, he could only hope others might.
Therefore, seeing Wu Daozi paint the myriad worlds, he felt nothing but delight and anticipation with no other negative emotions.
Under countless gazes.
The twelfth stroke fell, painting the Fourth Heaven.
Following that, the thirteenth stroke, fourteenth stroke, fifteenth stroke...