Chapter Twenty: Ever More Exacting Conditions for Transformation

Time flows relentlessly, the seasons pass like a river, and the Dao fruit transforms of its own accord. The cultivation prodigy’s Dao fruit metamorphoses into a talent that echoes through the ages.

An Le opened his eyes, unable to suppress the surge of delight in his heart. The Dao fruit of cultivation genius had already granted him many blessings, enabling him to swiftly comprehend the “Sword Cascade Diagram” and enter meditative insight within three quarters of an hour. It could be said this Dao fruit elevated his innate talent, and now, with its transformation, it was certainly for the better—bestowing ten strands of temporal essence and evolving into the “Talent of the Ages.”

As its name suggested, it was the mark of a genius seen only once in a thousand years! Such a gift was far from ordinary. If the “Cultivation Genius” allowed him to set foot in the fifth realm on his path, then “Talent of the Ages” might well let him easily break through the barrier between the fifth and sixth realms.

Lady Hua had told him before: though crossing each stage in cultivation was fraught with difficulty, the leap from the fifth to sixth realm was the most arduous. Even prodigies like Luo Qingchen, who rose from Qingzhou with boundless ambition—a talent rare in a century—had lingered for over a decade in the fifth realm. Though the dust upon the Dao heart played a part, this fact alone showed how formidable the challenge was.

Though he was still in the Martial Training Hall, An Le’s joy was irrepressible. With a thought, the light screen appeared.

…

[Name: An Le]

[Temporal Essence: 3 strands]

[Dao Fruit: Talent of the Ages (Golden Temporal Essence 0/2 strands, 0/100 strands), Sword Dancer (0/10 strands), Fearless Heart]

[Mastered Techniques: “Sword Cascade Diagram” (0 strands), “Qi Guidance and Breathing Method” (1 strand)]

[Mastered Skills: “Five Beasts Body Forging Skill” (0 strands), “Ancestor Zhao’s Long Fist (fragment)” (1 strand)]

…

Upon the light screen, the Dao fruit section had changed, and “Talent of the Ages” was boldly listed. Yet what made An Le’s gaze sharpen was that, compared to the conditions for the cultivation genius Dao fruit’s transformation, the requirements for “Talent of the Ages” were even more stringent.

“Golden temporal essence can condense Dao fruit, and the transformation requires two strands of golden temporal essence. Does that mean I need to provide two Dao fruits?” he murmured. “Besides that, a hundred strands of gray temporal essence…”

An Le whispered, sensing the challenge. Still, it was within reason; to grow stronger was never easy. With the light screen in hand, he could grow in visible ways—already a stroke of luck.

The conditions for Dao fruit transformation, in essence, required him to spend more time gathering temporal essence, observing the glorious pasts of the world’s strongest. Difficult, but not impossible.

Two strands of golden temporal essence could transform and empower Dao fruits with less demand or similar nature.

Recently, An Le had discovered certain tricks while extracting temporal essence. Golden temporal essence was more likely found in the bodies of the strong. For instance, it took three tries with Fairy Yun Rou to obtain golden temporal essence, but with Lady Hua and Luo Qingchen, he succeeded on the first attempt. Of course, this was not wholly reliable; just now, he had failed to extract golden temporal essence from Lord Lin Si.

There was always an element of luck. Yet the transformation of his Dao fruit left An Le exhilarated and in high spirits.

He opened his eyes and looked at the young men of the Lin Mansion, finding each bare-chested son to be remarkably handsome.

“Master An, what’s wrong?” Lin Qingyin, observing An Le, noticed he had suddenly closed his eyes and thought something was amiss.

“Thank you for your concern, Miss Qingyin. I am well. I shall begin painting for the young masters. Who will be first?” An Le asked with a smile.

No sooner had he spoken than Lin Zhuifeng unfastened the fire iron at his waist and strode into the Martial Training Hall.

“Everyone, the old lady has invited a painter to make portraits for you. This painter’s skills are superb. Who wants to go first?” Lin Zhuifeng grinned broadly.

His voice echoed in the hall, quickly drowned out by the boisterous cries and shouts of the young men, none paying him any mind.

Yet Lin Zhuifeng was not in the least annoyed; instead, his fire iron began spinning like a windmill around his wrist.

“If you won’t answer, we’ll let strength decide. Whoever can defeat my fire iron may go to the back of the line!” As he finished, the fire iron in his hand suddenly extended and strengthened, a surge of vital energy erupting like real flames, sending waves of heat through the hall.

He swung it at one of the young men.

Moments later.

The young man, battered and tearful, was dragged before An Le by Lin Zhuifeng.

“Master An, this is the eighth young master, Lin Ye, son of Seventh Lord. He is absolutely delighted to be the first to have his portrait painted.” Lin Zhuifeng returned the fire iron to his waist and flashed his large white teeth.

Which eye of yours sees him happy?

An Le’s lips twitched as he looked at the deeply aggrieved eighth young master, unsure how to respond.

Lin Ye gazed at An Le, pleading miserably, “Sir, please make me look good in the painting—these bruises must be gone!”

“Don’t worry, young master. I am well-versed in the art of retouching. I’m a professional.” An Le replied with a laugh.

Soon, the tools for painting prepared by Lin Qingyin were brought forward.

As for Lin Ye, bruised and battered, he sat on the small stool Lin Zhuifeng had arranged. There was a grand chair, but Lin Zhuifeng had made it clear: those who volunteered for their portrait could sit in the grand chair; those dragged in only got the small stool.

An Le took up a stick of charcoal, sharpened it with a dagger, spread thick paper on the wooden easel, and the brush began to whisper softly.

Within the Martial Training Hall, blood and vigor surged—passion ran high.

Outside, spring rain fell on tiles like crisp beads.

The youth held his brush, accompanied by the gentle sound of charcoal, beginning his first painting since joining the Lin Mansion.

…

…

By evening, the spring rain had nearly ceased, the dusk clouds had dispersed, and crimson light spilled across the world.

The air was cool, the breeze fresh and invigorating.

An Le folded his oil-paper umbrella, clad in blue, and—amid Lin Zhuifeng, Lin Qingyin, and the bruised but jubilant Lin Ye’s warm farewells—departed the Lin Mansion.

Lin Ye was utterly delighted. He had expected, after being beaten by Lin Zhuifeng, that the painter might fail to capture his handsomeness, but to his surprise, An Le had perfectly portrayed him—not only was the painting true to life, but it made him look even more attractive!

Lin Ye’s reluctance quickly turned to appreciation.

While An Le painted, Lin Qingyin watched and learned; An Le taught her some sketching techniques—how to hold the brush, how to manage light and shadow, how to handle lines.

Teaching and creating, he only completed Lin Ye’s portrait that day. There was no rush; quality mattered more than speed.

“Master An, here is your payment for today—ten Yuan Spirit coins.” A maid in fine dress ran up, smiling as she handed An Le a brocade purse.

This was Xi Xiang, Lady Hua’s personal maid—a woman both warm and generous.

“Thank you, Miss Xi Xiang. Please convey my gratitude to Lady Hua.” An Le received the purse and bowed with a smile.

Xi Xiang, seeing An Le’s handsome and courteous manner, couldn’t help but cover her mouth and laugh, glancing back several times before returning to the mansion.

Bathed in the golden twilight, An Le walked the quiet stone streets, umbrella in hand. With his Dao fruit transformed, a reward of ten Yuan Spirit coins, and the refreshing breeze after the rain, his mood was excellent. Even the lingering effects from the earlier attack at the street’s entrance had faded.

He was even impatient to return to the inn and cultivate, eager to experience the blessings brought by the “Talent of the Ages” Dao fruit.

But just as he left the quiet street, he saw a familiar face: Huang Xian, the black-uniformed captain, distinct from the official constables, approached briskly.

“Master An,” Huang Xian greeted, his expression serious.

An Le’s smile faded; he recalled his promise to paint the portrait of a criminal for Huang.

“I am aware of the attack you suffered at the street entrance… The man behind Mr. Luo is the Qin Mansion. Qin and Lin have a blood feud. Mr. Luo intended to bribe Liu Qingyan to enter the Lin Mansion as a painter and cause trouble for the old lady, but you intervened, so you were caught in the crossfire.” Huang Xian explained the situation thoroughly.

An Le nodded. Without Lady Hua’s promise, the Qin Mansion would indeed loom like a mountain, suffocating him, sleepless and anxious.

But with Lady Hua’s assurance, he could focus on improving himself.

“Lady Hua has told me all this. Since I have joined the Lin Mansion, there is no reason to retreat,” An Le said with a gentle smile.

Seeing An Le’s calm detachment, Huang Xian couldn’t help but admire him.

“By the way, please let me know if you apprehend Liu Qingyan, or inform me of his whereabouts… Good for good, straight for straight—Liu Qingyan hired men to attack me, and I must seek justice. After all, I hold the title of Scholar.” An Le bowed earnestly.

But as soon as he finished speaking, Huang Xian’s expression grew peculiar.

“Master An, Liu Qingyan… is already dead.”

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