Chapter 21: The Way of Calligraphy

When Mu Feng suddenly stopped walking to look at the words on the plaque, Sky Splitting Tiger, who was ahead of him, suddenly brightened up his eyes and said, “What, Brother Mu Feng, are you skilled at calligraphy?”

“I’m not really skilled, I just know a little. I only write a bit when there’s nothing else to do.” Mu Feng smiled, hesitated for a moment, then added, “Big brother, the character ‘yuan’ on this plaque…”

“This is an incomplete character!”

Before Sky Splitting Tiger could reply, Jing Wushuang stepped up from behind. She was dressed in coarse clothes and wore no makeup, but her beautiful features and slim figure still showed through. She had the dignity of a well-bred lady, yet she kept the kindness and hard work of a simple common girl.

Perhaps reminded of something sad by her father’s memory, her eyes turned a little red. She said, “When my late father was alive, his favorite thing was calligraphy. He often wrote a piece, then tore it up and started over, always saying his skill wasn’t strong enough. This plaque was written by my late father himself, but unfortunately, when he got to the last stroke of the ‘yuan’ character, he simply couldn’t finish it. He said the feeling was wrong and he could never add the final stroke.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mu Feng thought to himself that this was unusual.

Such strong spirit and determination proved that Sky Splitting Tiger and his sister’s father was no ordinary man. No wonder he could build this annex courtyard deep in the Hundred Thousand Mountains, and no wonder he said such things.

“Right before he passed, my late father was always sad that he never completed the missing stroke on the plaque. He felt deeply unhappy.” Jing Wushuang’s voice was soft and gentle, carrying a touch of sorrow. That look in her eyes seemed filled with worry down to the bone.

“Yes, deeply unhappy. That sentiment shows up very clearly in the four big characters on the plaque!”

Mu Feng paused, then continued, “The first character ‘qing’ was written with calm strokes, clearly showing that your father aimed for peace and simplicity. But the second character ‘shan’ suddenly changed in spirit, becoming extraordinary and highlighting the grandeur, pride, and dignity of the mountain. Obviously, he tried to act simple on the surface, but inside he had intense struggles. The third character ‘bie’ gave off deep sadness, or maybe guilt. The last character ‘yuan’ had heavy strokes, but with an underlying sharpness, showing that your father held onto a kind of hope. Especially that final stroke—that was the most important part. The plain outside mixed with his inner pride, dignity, and guilt, so he could not bring himself to write the last stroke. If I guess right, your father was surely no ordinary man when he was alive. He lived through a past that normal people couldn’t even imagine!”

A person’s handwriting reflects their character, just like drinking tea shows the mind.

By taking it slow, a person’s nature and morals could be sensed through just a few strokes. Those with sharp eyes might even roughly figure out the writer’s life story from one piece of calligraphy.

After thinking carefully, Mu Feng had almost guessed the truth. He understood that Sky Splitting Tiger and his sister Jing Wushuang’s father was far from ordinary, and he finally knew why that last stroke was left empty.

Impressive!

Sky Splitting Tiger and his sister Jing Wushuang exchanged a look and were overjoyed. They turned to gaze at Mu Feng, now feeling a rare spark of eagerness.

They had searched for a long time and suddenly found him when hope seemed lost.

Finishing that last stroke on the plaque was their father’s greatest wish before he passed. To let their father rest peacefully, the siblings had invited countless scholars over the years, even some with official titles like Xiucai to help mend it. But no one could do it right to blend perfectly with the writing their father left. Some wrote beautifully, but when placed next to the words on the plaque, it never felt quite right.

They had thought their father’s last wish would never be fulfilled, but then, unexpectedly, they came across Mu Feng, a true scholar!

They saw at once what he could do.

Hearing Mu Feng’s words, they knew his skill in calligraphy was far better than those false talents.

Seeing the world clearly is learning deeply; knowing life’s ways is writing well!

Writing was just like living—if you didn’t understand reason or tell right from wrong, the writing would lack feeling, or more so, spirit. Since ancient times, many great calligraphers were high officials or had official experience. Why?

Only because those who rise to high positions are never average people; they have deep views on life and society. Calligraphy follows the path of the brush; once you grasp the principles, the writing naturally carries the personal mark, with spirit.

“I was right not to misjudge him!”

Sky Splitting Tiger nodded to himself, looking at Mu Feng’s calm face.

Mu Feng had vast knowledge but kept a low profile, just like how he had amazing power but hadn’t fully entered cultivation yet—he hid it well.

Such a person was like a hidden koi fish in a pond, looking ordinary among other fish. But when the moment came, he would leap through the dragon gate and turn into an ancient dragon soaring across the skies.

“Our father was once a prince of the Dali Kingdom. Our grandfather was the powerful Guardian General who ruled the land, with unmatched martial skill. He hoped to pass the Way of Immortals down to our father and have his sons continue guarding the kingdom. Unfortunately, our father lived a life of ease and pleasure when young, known as a playboy in the Dali Kingdom. He spent all day wandering among artist studios, showing no interest in cultivation or power. Only after our grandfather died in battle and our home crumbled did he wake up, filled with regret. After that, he lived in isolation here in the remote Hundred Thousand Mountains, passing his later years in sadness.”

Jing Wushuang spoke in a heavy tone, briefly telling her father’s story, then paused and added, “Young Master Mu, no, Brother Mu Feng, could you help us finish the character? Could you fulfill our father’s only wish?”

Suddenly finding a master calligrapher by chance, Jing Wushuang’s eyes lit up, looking at Mu Feng with a hint of respect and hope.

At first, when her brother Sky Splitting Tiger brought back a so-called sworn brother without warning and asked her to call him Second Brother, she felt uneasy. Now, all that resentment faded away, replaced by surprise, delight, excitement, and admiration like never before, along with an odd feeling she couldn’t name.

Just then, in his blood-stained, worn-out clothes and looking weary, Mu Feng’s thin frame somehow seemed more towering than her sturdy brother.

A late prince?

Mu Feng nodded, finally understanding the whole story, and agreed at once, “Good, I’ll give it a try!”

During this period, his cultivation had advanced rapidly, taking up most of his time. But writing was his true calling; he had focused on it since childhood because he couldn’t cultivate. His skill wasn’t the best, but across all Jianning City, he felt confident few could compete.

Seeing him agree so readily, Sky Splitting Tiger and Jing Wushuang were thrilled and hurried to prepare.

This was no small matter—it was fulfilling their father’s only wish, so they made it solemn and grand.

He bathed, changed clothes, and quietly recited the Clear Wind Method…

After cleaning inside and out, Mu Feng sat down at the desk in fresh robes, still whispering the Clear Wind Method. He calmed his mind and cleared his thoughts. Jing Wushuang, naturally beautiful, changed into a white robe and gently ground the ink beside him. But Sky Splitting Tiger, always bold and impatient, couldn’t wait. He grabbed his Overlord Spear and stormed about the courtyard, with wild movements whistling through the air.

“The first Overlord style, Army-Crushing Slash!”

Sky Splitting Tiger shook his spear, sparking silver dots, and immediately punched tiny holes through the nearby earth wall, like a sieve. Then, without turning back, he suddenly thrust his weapon backward and flipped up a huge stone a thousand pounds heavy. With a fierce “Hu!”, he poured his strength into his arms and lifted it high.

Emperor’s Thrust!

After battling Mu Feng in that bamboo grove and narrowly escaping death, his spear skills seemed to have improved, breaking through a long-held barrier.

As he whooped and moved around the courtyard, in the study, the calm Mu Feng sat utterly still, like a monk in deep trance, deaf to the outside world. After a long while, he suddenly took the brush handed by Jing Wushuang and gave a firm stroke downward, then right, and finally lifted it at the end, filling in the last stroke of the ‘yuan’ character.

His strokes were powerful and precise, especially that final uplift—like drawing life into it—making it gleam and blowing away the dullness, sadness, and weight of the other characters. A direct, unstoppable force hit them in the face, yet it blended perfectly with the rest!

The way spoken isn’t the true way.

Every act had an unseen path. In cultivation, there was the Way of Immortals and the Way of the Sorcerer. In writing a piece of calligraphy, there was also a path not grasped by outsiders.

After putting down the brush and looking at the flawlessly blended characters, Mu Feng felt a bit more insight into the so-called way.