Beware Of Chicken v7c42: Framing and Brushes

Yang observed that the reception held by Master Rou, his wife, and their servants had proceeded smoothly for the Framed Sun Sect. Tension dissolved once they witnessed the visitor’s approachable nature, and the powerful cultivator graciously allowed Yang to document their encounter.

A gentle smile played on his lips—the kind one reserves for those their junior. While such an expression might have appeared condescending from another, coming from Master Rou, a Spiritual Herb Master of the Cloudy Sword Sect, it was an incredibly favorable development.

A man does not gaze upon children with such kindness if he harbors intent to destroy them.

The attitude aligned perfectly with his reputation: benevolent, uninterested in demanding servitude, and possessing an immense existence that empowered others to forge their own destiny.

Although the Framed Sun Sect was clearly the lesser party in this interaction, Master Rou and his wife offered genuine praise, treating their hosts with respectful courtesy.

The events were progressing well. Their honored guests were ushered to the main pavilion, which offered the finest view of the Peaks.

“The scenery is truly magnificent. I heard the legends, and I viewed Yun Ren’s paintings, but witnessing it with my own eyes…?” Lady Meiling whispered, her gaze fixed upon the Dueling Peaks. The sun was nearing its most awe-inspiring position from the pavilion, moments before it dipped behind the great gong, known as the Thunder of the Earth.

“The sun retreats, the mountain awakens,” Yang recited softly, the words of an ancestor drifting from his lips.

Initially, they had interpreted the verse solely as a comment on Cultivation. Now, however, Yang felt certain it referred more to the spiritual weight the Dueling Peaks embodied.

Yang’s father tightened his posture, worried by the interruption of the guest’s contemplation. Yet, both Master Rou and Lady Meiling smiled, entirely unbothered. “Ah, that is a lovely verse,” she remarked, and Yang inclined his head in thanks. His father transitioned from nervous tension to beaming with pride at the compliment.

“I invite you to be seated, Master Rou, and sample our Sect’s hospitality,” Chen Tai gestured gracefully. Servants appeared from the wings, bearing platters piled high with their most exquisite culinary creations. Rare delicacies reserved for grand celebrations were abundant—tea-smoked duck, honey-glazed goose, spiced peacock, and a whole braised ripperbeak. This massive bird, dwarfing a grown man, had been seasoned with citrus, herbs, and spices, with butter pressed beneath its skin according to an ancestral method.

And those were merely the fowl. The entire bounty of the Grass Sea covered the tables.

Plates were filled with smoked bison ribs paired with wild berry reduction, steaks seared on scorching stones, and loin-filled bao with cabbage and onion.

There were roasted deer shanks; rice flavored with five treasures, nuts, bamboo, peas, squash, and steamed riverfish infused with wine and ginger. Their signature sweets, crafted from sunflower seeds—sourced from the vast golden fields to the south—completed the meal.

It was a gargantuan feast that strained the very wood of the tables. Wa Shi stared at the spread in absolute bliss.

“Thank you for this warm welcome, Sect Master Chen Tai. My apologies to your kitchen staff; the notice was rather brief.” Such a statement would be inconceivable from many cultivators. Usually, mortals were expected to toil in silence, yet Yang had observed that Master Rou always maintained a deep regard for their wellbeing.

This was something Yang had worked to mirror since the Dueling Peaks Incident. There was a unique pleasure in being held in high esteem, with locals greeting him openly in the streets. Some even exchanged jests with him or sought guidance on their calligraphy. One man had even learned to read and write specifically to better appreciate the characters Yang had penned!

“Thank you for all your hard work,” Lady Meiling said, offering a bright smile to the startled staff. The head of the servants, Rui, stepped forward with a deep bow.

“It is an honor to serve Master Rou and Lady Meiling. We only hope our efforts meet your standards,” he replied.

Both guests nodded, seemingly pleased, and settled into their seats. “I am certain they will be excellent; everything smells divine,” Lady Meiling added, making the servants swell with pride.

“Then my family’s seventy-six generations of service have fulfilled their purpose; I can face my ancestors with head held high,” Rui said.

It was likely even longer than that. Yang recalled seeing a man bearing a striking resemblance to Rui serving their own ancient progenitor.

This legacy was a profound source of pride. The fact that an unbroken line still tended to their family? Despite the tribulations of time, they had proven to be steadfast stewards of their ancestor’s legacy.

The feast commenced, accompanied by light conversation. They kept the focus on their visitors, speaking of the Sect’s architecture, their land, and the local industries. Though simple, Master Rou displayed genuine curiosity about these matters.

The atmosphere truly deepened when the talk shifted to calligraphy. They analyzed brush hair lengths, ink viscosity, and paper quality. The servants were even directed to bring out their most precious scrolls, which the group examined as the sun began to set.

To the utter astonishment of his father and the sect Elders, even the ox participated; Bei Be was his name, and his calm, thoughtful voice resonated with the group.

Conversing with an ox felt surreal, but Yang was used to talking to monkeys, and it helped that the ox possessed a refined eye for art. The graying servant who possessed the air of a noble also contributed.

“Oh, this one is exceptional. It is the same poem you recited, but the artist captured the peaks themselves with the sun caught in the middle? Truly masterfully done,” Master Rou declared.

Father exchanged glances with the Elders, who nodded in unison. It was a beautiful work, of course, but now they had a gift they knew Master Rou would appreciate.

Slowly, the festivities drew to a close. The sun finally vanished behind the Thunder of the Earth.

The gong burned with a shimmering light as the rays hit the carved characters, and then the striker fell.

Father had spent a considerable sum to coordinate this display.

The Thunder of the Earth hummed. A single, deep resonant note filled the air, clear and pure. It was not a violent sound, but a gentle, vibrating tone that carried a tranquility rarely found in such a massive object.

The scent of fine food, the mild evening breeze, and that perfect, resonant note combined to create a beautiful memory.

Master Rou’s smile broadened. Lady Meiling’s eyes glittered. The servants stood in hushed wonder.

“Magnificent,” Master Rou announced. “What a lovely evening indeed.”

“Your praise is a great honor, Master Rou,” Yang’s father replied. “We are delighted you could join us, and we wish to offer you these small tokens. They are humble things, hardly worthy of your greatness, but we hope they please you.”

The servants presented their finest paper and highest-grade ink; these gifts were accepted with appreciative nods. Tigu and Gou Ren, who shared a passion for cooking, provided a scroll containing the kitchen staff’s prized recipes. A small, delicate calligraphy kit was also gifted for Young Master Zhuye—though he would likely eventually wield brushes far superior to these.

While it felt somewhat inadequate to offer mortal goods, they reserved one final gift: the very calligraphy piece Master Rou had admired earlier. The cultivator’s eyes widened.

“Are you certain?” he asked. “I should hate to take such a masterpiece from your sect.”

“That you recognize its quality is reason enough for you to possess it,” Chen Tai said firmly. “We take pride in knowing it belongs to the man who safeguarded the Azure Hills from demonic assault.”

“I accept. I shall hang this in my library, or perhaps the sitting room,” Master Rou replied, tracing the lines of the ink.

Their Sect would be speaking about this honor for decades.

Of course, the gift-giving was not one-sided. Master Rou was clearly determined to return the favor.

He provided bales of Gold Grade rice, jars of maple syrup, and produce overflowing with Qi that made Yang’s mouth water despite having just eaten his fill.

Then, the true treasures were revealed.

Spiritual Herbs. A gift from a Spiritual Herb Master. Fire and Yang aspected; a treasure for their cultivation that transcended their wildest dreams.

He then produced something they had long coveted.

“Obsidian Inkroot?!” Yang’s father gasped.

It yielded the finest ink in the Empire. In this region, its value would necessitate selling the entire manor to acquire a single piece.

“Yes, I still owe you,” Master Rou said. “A gift for a gift. It is only fair. My Seniors enjoyed this piece quite a bit...”

And that was how the entire Framed Sun Sect found themselves engaged in an impromptu calligraphy session with Master Rou and his entourage.

They took turns, creating pieces and presenting them. Master Rou’s bold, powerful strokes, Lady Meiling’s precise script, the elegant flow of the mortal servant, and even Bei Be’s creative slashes—all contributed to a night of shared artistry. They experimented with blending traditional characters with illustration, a technique that proved fascinating.

Their sect responded in kind with their own poems and sketches. Yang managed a single, shimmering swipe of golden, Qi-infused ink that clung to the page.

Master Rou had been their guest, yet he had bridged the gap between them, making them feel like old friends by the night’s end.

We remained in the Framed Sun Sect only for the night and departed at dawn, though not alone. The Framed Sun Sect followed at a respectful distance as we made our way toward the Dueling Peaks.

“Quite different from Delun’s home, isn't it?” Meimei asked.

“It is,” I agreed. The Ironfields had been an alien, harsh landscape where the people struggled to survive in a realm poor in all things but metal.

The Framed Sun Sect felt more like a true Cultivator’s home. It was a place of abundance, grand banquets, and high-quality produce.

It was impressive, even slightly opulent, but it never felt arrogant. Perhaps I was viewing it through sentimental eyes, but I genuinely enjoyed the night—discussing calligraphy and relaxing with good company was a rare treat. And the Dueling Peaks? They provided a stunning backdrop.

I felt a brief pang of guilt. They had pulled out all the stops and even gifted me a beautiful piece of art. For my part, I had only offered things I had in vast supply—and a flower that Gramps had given me to help us produce more ink.

I only hoped the poem I had provided for them was significant enough.

“They were very happy, Brother,” Babe declared. I smiled. It was wonderful to see him making new friends.

“Well, I am certain they would welcome you back. How about you, Washy? ...Washy?” I turned when he failed to respond.

The fish was nose-deep in the recipe scroll, whiskers twitching, his eyes almost bloodshot as he absorbed every word.

Everyone in the carriage erupted in laughter.

“It was quite an experience. A positive one,” Teacher said softly. “I never expected to find myself among cultivators discussing ink and brush, but it was a pleasant night.”

Lady Wu, the fox girls, and Bane all nodded in agreement.

Well, Bane mostly just wiggled in delight, but that counted as an agreement in my book!

“The mountain waits!” Tianlan whispered, perhaps a bit crudely. I shook my head at her recitation of the simplistic verse and leaned out the window. The Peaks were drawing closer with every passing mile.

“So... do you think Xiulan has a surprise waiting for us?” I asked.

“I hope it is a short one. Zhuye and I are deprived of Xiulan hugs; this must be corrected immediately,” Meimei declared, bouncing Zhuye on her lap. “Hear that, Xiaode? Auntie Lanlan is near!”

“Lala?” he asked. “Aun’ Lala?”

Meiling glowed with happiness. I ruffled his hair. Xiulan would be thrilled to hear him learning her name.

As for me... it was time to discover how much life had moved forward since I was last here.