THE MARTIAL KING - Season 7 Episode 25

The divine texture for meditation was among the first that Zen had learned under the cyan dragon’s instruction. It was a kind of meditation rune.

This particular rune was usually placed in a practice room or on a furnace. Its energy could reinforce the meditative state of its cultivator.

Practice necessitated much concentration. Akin to an artist refining his craft, a cultivator required great reserves of concentration. The meditation rune would be of much use in calming nerves and eliminating distractions.

According to the cyan dragon’s words, the divine texture for meditation was one of the simplest among the one-star divine textures. Its lines were definite and uncomplicated.

However, this feat was very easy only for the cyan dragon himself.

At the first stroke of Zen’s pen, a dull, grey line marred the smooth surface of the paper. The edges were messy, an insult itself to the brush. It was an obvious failure. Zen had only begun familiarizing himself with the weight of the brush and the consistency of the ink.
“Beginnings are the hardest part,” the cyan dragon said in good-natured jest.

Zen shrugged his teasing aside, the ribbing not particularly wounding him.

He didn’t think that he could succeed on the first try either. There was much work to be done, and he knew perfectly well that it would not be easy. According to the art of painting divine textures that the cyan dragon had taught him, he needed to meld his being with the pen, distinguishing the ingredients in the ink with subtle perception. Only after arranging the materials in their proper order with his spiritual energy would the stroke follow his hand and create a sleek, polished line.

Taking a new sheet of paper, he focused in silence for a while before continuing his attempts. He could turn his soul into a thorn and enter the state of forgetting himself, but it appeared that perception was not his strong suit. He was not good at feeling things with his soul.

The Spiritual Thorn required nothing more than a rough shooting at his enemy’s direction. It was the first time that Zen had to maintain control of his soul power in such a painstaking and meticulous manner.

After collecting his thoughts, Zen raised his hand and touched its tip to the paper. At the contact with the sheet, the tip shone with a cyan light.

‘I made it!’

Zen thought in excitement. But the cyan light disappeared as soon as it arrived, dying down at the small movement of Zen’s hand. Zen took a closer inspection of the stroke: its first half contained a cyan color, and the rest of the line still in a dull grey hue.

“I guess this is another failure,” the cyan dragon laughed at him again.

The sound of the dragon’s laughter was starting to tug at Zen’s nerves. Turning to the source of the offending sound, Zen said irritated, “Stop your wisecrack now! Why don’t you show me and do something useful instead?”

The cyan dragon appeared taken aback by the demand. “You want a demonstration? Of a one-star divine texture?” the dragon asked in disbelief. A one-star divine texture was an insult to his divinity.

The cyan dragon’s expertise lay on the art of divine textures. He paled to the other eight dragons on the furnace in measures of strength or martial techniques, but he would not be bested with the brush. Even the Grand Marvelous Array, the shielding array of their race, was arranged by his own hand.

And here was this mortal, asking a creature of his rank to paint a one-star texture. The dragon was wide-eyed at the ridiculous request.

Nonetheless, he eventually deigned to give a demonstration. He had given his word to teach the boy, and so he should keep it.

The cyan dragon didn’t have a real body, but he could teach Zen with his spiritual power. He instructed, “Hold your pen higher!”

After following the dragon’s words, a small streak of light burst from Zen’s forehead to the pen. The cyan dragon projected a part of his soul into the brush. After it had combined with the brush, the dragon spoke once again, “Try once more now.”

Zen moved his pen on the paper with a gentle stroke. A beautiful cyan line appeared on the paper. It was nothing short of perfection. The masterful way of handling the ingredients in the ink was evident in the clear, refined line on the sheet.

Zen was unable to take his eyes off his handiwork. He sat silently and marveled at the utter perfection of the brushwork.
“How do you like it, boy?” The cyan dragon’s voice came from Zen’s mind.

“It’s amazing!” Zen praised sincerely.

“Of course it is! What do you take me for?” the dragon scoffed, then his voice turned serious. “You don’t have to push yourself to get everything right immediately.” The dragon paused thoughtfully before adding, “Your second attempt was incomplete, but you have actually grasped the technique. Even runic experts cannot achieve that in such a short amount of time. For many, it takes months.”

Despite laughing at the mortal’s earlier failures, the cyan dragon was surprised at how quickly Zen had comprehended the key to the strokes. It had come so naturally to him.

“Months? That long! Is it so difficult?” Zen’s shoulders slumped in dejection at first upon seeing the disparity of his skill next to the dragon’s but after learning that he was doing better than most people, his motivation returned. The fact that he seemingly had a natural aptitude for the skill brought his determination back.

His lips curled into a confident smile. He changed the sheet once again and held his brush again.

Furrowing his brows in concentration, he spoke to himself. ‘Try to feel the ingredients in the ink with my soul…’

Focusing his energy, he sifted through the particles of the ink, envisioning the proper strokes. ‘There are four ingredients in the ink. The Potent Kudzu Root has the largest quantity, while the Gelid Herb is the smallest. I need to put the Gelid Herb particles to the bottom. Only in this way can I make full use of the Potent Kudzu Root.