The Xie family has settled in the Lei Realm for a long time. They have always lived a peaceful life. They only make a living by writing with ink. They are good at painting, love to tend flowers, and enjoy leisure. They often regard themselves as scholars.
Back then, Xie Chuncan's grandfather composed a seven-day poem to condense the golden elixir. At the moment when he had condensed the elixir and achieved enlightenment, and was about to touch the Great Dao, his grandfather discovered an important thing: calligraphy and ink have spiritual power, can communicate with words, and can infuse qi and meridians.
A handsome and refreshing travelogue can soothe the mind, and a sobering word of advice can enlighten the heart. Xie Chuncan's grandfather studied hard for a hundred years and finally figured out a special method of sealing spiritual energy in ink, and then using ink to write texts to nourish the spirit. This method is called Shuqi.
A sentence inscribed on clothes, "I have always been brave enough to fight ten thousand men, and I carry this heroic spirit throughout my life," can greatly boost a person's energy. A poem written in cursive script about the chivalrous spirit of a young man from "Six States" can also make people brave enough to take the lead.
This method of writing poems inside clothes, either to purify the mind, to boost morale, or to forge a strong character, became famous in just a few years. The Xie family also rose from a small family living in a remote corner of the mountains to a prosperous and prominent family in just over ten years.
However, their family foundation is not stable after all, and the cultivator with the highest cultivation level is only a Golden Core. If they can proceed steadily and step by step, perhaps they can gain a position that cannot be ignored in the world after a hundred years. However, they have risen too quickly.
It was so fast that he almost offended all the weapon refiners and alchemists in this world.
Xie Chuncan's memories of a peaceful, stable, and prosperous childhood actually concealed a perilous situation, with the Xie family on the verge of collapse. His image of a family that seemed all-powerful and powerful was actually treading on the brink of destruction.
Young Xie Chuncan was oblivious to all this. He was a genius whose talent his father deliberately concealed, the youngest son cherished and cherished by the entire Xie family. All he needed to do was study literature and compose poetry. Even the flowers in the yard never wilted, and nothing else went his way.
So when the night of extermination came, countless cold and bloody butcher knives chopped down on his head, and the uncles and aunts who were amiable in the past became stiff and cold corpses, and all the flowers and flowers of the Xie family were burned into ruins by the raging fire, Xie Chuncan faced the harshest fate without any preparation.
Those people thought that he was too young to learn the Xie family's prayers, and that the people who had caused his family's destruction were always hypocritical, so they "spare" his life after teasing him. But seeing how they sent Xie Chuncan to this hellish place, it was clear that they never intended to let Xie Chuncan live.
However, the other party could not have expected that the hand that was only used to hold a pen and grind ink in the past was also extremely talented when it came to drawing a bow and arrow.
When Xie Chuncan and Luo Jiujiang first met, he could hardly stop laughing at his words "Eight generations of great scholars have produced an unworthy descendant like me who tells stand-up comedians", and it was not entirely because of the humor of the words.
He was actually laughing at himself.
It was his Xie family whose ancestors had produced eight generations of great scholars. The unworthy descendant who was full of hatred, unrecognizable, cruel and cunning to the point of killing people without blinking an eye, and cowardly and evasive to the point of never daring to pick up a pen to write a prayer was Xie Chuncan.
But now he won't run away anymore.
Xie Chuncan spread out his single garment, his eyes firm and sharp. Beside him, Luo Jiujiang's breathing gradually weakened, and every rise and fall of his chest seemed like a sign of death. However, he did not even glance at him again, but focused all his energy on the calligraphy in front of him.
Xie's grandfather mastered the art of calligraphy after a century of comprehension, meticulously infusing every inch of spiritual energy. Because the spiritual energy used was both abundant and sharp, writing on thin, soft, narrow, and short materials, like the rags Luo Jiujiang was currently wearing, wouldn't withstand even the first stroke.
This is why Xie Chuncan was regarded as a genius when he was able to write prayers on paper at the age of five, and why he now insists on taking off his undamaged clothes to make materials for writing prayers.
But no matter how focused Xie Chuncan was, he had neglected this skill for far too long. Shuqi also held extremely high standards for calligraphers, and Xie Chuncan's spiritual energy strayed slightly. Just as the word "bad" flashed through his mind, the garment he had just taken off crumbled before his eyes.
As the clothes tore, so did Xie Chuncan's hope.
There is one more chance, one last chance... Xie Chuncan thought silently. This situation was within his expectations, but it was definitely not the result he expected.
The inner garment was the lightest and thinnest of the three pieces of clothing. If one wanted to use it to write a prayer, it would be as difficult as using paper. However, the blood and ink were sticky, and the spiritual skills required were complicated and numerous, not to mention that Luo Jiujiang's injury required him to write a long prayer - although he had written a prayer with paper once, that piece of paper only carried one word.
Xie Chuncan's hand remained steady, but with his upper body naked, sweat was already beading on his forehead. The flesh on his index finger had dried a bit, and without a second thought, he cut his hand again, this time deeper and more brutally.
He cannot fail, he has no room for failure anymore.
…………
In such a desperate situation, there was no room for error. Xie Chuncan felt as if he was standing on a suspension bridge across a deep valley. There seemed to be a strong wind blowing all around him, not allowing him to lose focus for even a moment.
This time, Xie Chuncan was extremely cautious, rehearsing each stroke in his mind first, his fingers moving very slowly. Just as he was about to finish the prayer, a drop of sweat suddenly rolled down Xie Chuncan's forehead.
Sweat splattered on the silk, spreading a smear of fresh blood. His thin silk undergarment suddenly flew up without any wind, breaking into two fluttering pieces. Xie Chuncan was left kneeling on the ground, his fingertips barely able to lift from his clothes.
His lips were still tightly pursed, his expression still focused, but his brows were already aware of what was happening, and every wrinkle on his forehead was filled with disbelief. Xie Chuncan raised his head, his eyes filled with dullness.
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