Chapter Twenty-Two: Righteousness

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The wolf demon truly has come...

Chen Jianchen recalled Yingning’s words: demons possess inner cores, which can be devoured by their own kind to increase their cultivation—this, fundamentally, was why the wolf demon spared Yingning and did not consume her outright. By swallowing the little white fox’s inner core, it could instantly gain decades’ worth of cultivation, an irresistible temptation.

Such allure emboldened the wolf demon to take risks, haunting the outskirts of Jingyang Village to prevent Yingning’s escape. Although it dared not brazenly enter the village, its presence remained an ever-looming threat.

Back in his study, Chen Jianchen felt a deep unease. He took up his talisman brush and some paper, seeking solace in calligraphy—a scholar’s skill akin to a monk’s wooden fish or a priest’s meditation, a means to swiftly calm the mind.

Brush strokes flew across the page, ten characters appearing in bold, unrestrained form on the white paper: “Wild mountains, lingering snow by night; a lone candle, a stranger in a foreign land!”

This line, taken from a Tang poem, carried a sense of bleakness and chill, mirroring Chen Jianchen’s current state of mind.

Yingning, seeing him write, broke from her meditation and came over to observe—

The moment she reached the desk and peered at the characters, she was startled to see each of the ten bold inked words radiating light!

This light was faint, only visible in total darkness, yet to Yingning’s eyes, each ray seemed needle-sharp, piercing her one after another.

Pain!

Yingning felt her mind explode; a torrent of chaotic thoughts surged, threatening to drown her. It was as if she were naked before a raging furnace, every inch of her body aflame, on the verge of being reduced to ashes.

A shrill cry escaped her lips. With the last of her strength, she whirled around and dove beneath the bed, curling into a trembling ball—just like a little girl frightened out of her wits.

Her sudden fright startled Chen Jianchen as well. From outside, A’bao’s worried voice called, “Liu Xian, what was that strange noise in your room?”

Chen Jianchen drew a deep breath, opened the door, and replied with a smile, “Nothing—just a mouse ran out. I gave it a knock.”

A’bao, having not heard clearly, saw Chen Jianchen unharmed and was reassured, asking no more.

Once he had shut the door again, Chen Jianchen’s mind was awash with confusion. What had so frightened Yingning, as if she’d encountered a mortal enemy? Could it be the wolf demon had broken in?

If so, that would be no small matter!

But he reconsidered—surely not. There were many traps set around the village, and several seasoned hunters kept watch at night. If the wolf demon approached, they would have noticed. After all, a wolf demon was not among the most formidable of demons; aside from its awakened intellect and physical prowess, it possessed no significant magical arts. As for letting its spirit roam outside its body, in such cold wilderness, doing so would be certain death.

To untangle this knot, only Yingning herself could provide an answer.

However, the white fox remained paralyzed with fear. Only when she had calmed could he inquire further.

Yingning took far longer to recover than expected—an entire hour passed before she cautiously emerged.

“Yingning, what happened?” Chen Jianchen asked gravely.

Yingning’s gaze lingered on the paper and brush atop the desk, still tinged with fear, unwilling to draw near.

Sensing something, Chen Jianchen quickly fetched the pen and paper Yingning had used the night before and handed them to her.

She accepted them, her forepaw still trembling slightly. After a moment’s pause, finding herself unable to write, she resumed meditation to compose her spirit. Only after a length of time did she open her eyes and begin to write—seven words:

“Master’s writing carries righteous energy!”

Chen Jianchen was momentarily stunned. He understood the meaning of “righteous energy,” but the significance of her statement eluded him.

Yingning continued: “I once heard an old teacher at a private school say that if a scholar’s thoughts are upright, his heart resolute, and his spirit noble, then after reading ten thousand books, his brushstrokes will be as if guided by the divine. Each character will be imbued with righteous energy—open and bright, fiercely yang, repelling all evil, and impervious to harm... At the time, I thought the old man was simply boasting. How could such a thing exist in the world? Yet never did I imagine that master’s writing would truly contain righteous energy. When I approached, I was instantly wounded by it—my very soul felt scorched, nearly lost beyond redemption.”

Chen Jianchen was still bewildered. He knew himself well; those mystical claims hardly applied to him.

Righteous energy?

He examined the characters he’d just written—seeing nothing unusual, just another practice sheet. He’d written countless such pieces, most discarded unsatisfied.

Yingning wrote on: “The old teacher also said that righteous energy comes in differing strengths. The weaker kind will evaporate from the ink and paper soon after the words are written…”

This, at least, made sense to Chen Jianchen. To put it simply, righteous energy was like magical power: a consumable resource. Once used, it was gone. Practitioners of the Dao would channel their power into talismans, imbuing them with extraordinary effects. If his writing truly contained righteous energy, then his words were like talismans, possessing special power of their own?

His heart thudded wildly at the thought. It all seemed a little unbelievable.

Chen Jianchen calmed himself and pondered. He was certain he possessed no such righteous energy. The paper and ink were nothing special. The only thing left to suspect was the “Evil-Repelling” brush, a memento from Earth.

Legend had it that this brush once belonged to Zhong Kui, the legendary demon-queller from myth and folklore. Could those tales be true?

Chen Jianchen had always suspected something was unusual about the brush, but despite repeated examination, he’d found nothing. Unexpectedly, by sheer accident, he’d now stumbled upon a clue. Yet he sensed this was only the beginning; the Evil-Repelling brush surely held deeper secrets waiting to be uncovered.

But how to unlock them?

Chen Jianchen grew anxious, like a man standing before a mountain of treasure, unable to find its entrance. How could he not be impatient?

Yingning, seeing him lost in thought, dared not disturb him. The earlier shock had truly frightened her; the righteous energy in the ink had nearly shattered her soul. She now felt a newfound reverence for Chen Jianchen. In her eyes, he was unlike any scholar she had ever met—free of pedantry. Perhaps this was the very reason his brush could produce righteous energy.

Upright and resolute—so easy to say, yet how many in this world can truly attain it?