Chapter 789 — Where Does He Rank in All the World?

The young scholar halted his donkey and looked the pair over, a touch of mischief and world-weary mockery in his bearing. "I mean to slip inside and have a look at the master of this place," he said. "And where might you two be headed, brother?"

Shen Mu smiled. "We mean to slip inside and see what's what. Since our purpose is the same, why not travel together?"

The young scholar thought it over, then addressed his donkey: "Lü Zheng, with two scapegoats at hand, how does that suit you?"

The donkey curled back its lips and said, "Huh."

The scholar laughed. "The radish says it's fine, so we'll go together."

"Scapegoats?"

Shen Mu's guard went up at once, though he spoke with humble courtesy: "Brother, is a scapegoat any different from a fall guy or a shit-bucket bearer?"

The young scholar laughed heartily. "No difference at all."

Shen Mu roared with laughter, then looked ahead to the ancient battlefield. The whole expanse lay shrouded in vast fog, and where the eye could reach there stood scattered ruins of buildings—lofty city walls, towering palaces, high memorial arches and gateways.

Upon the ground were the footprints of demigods, and by following those prints one could find the Earth Mother Sovereign.

Dragon Qilin and Water Qilin walked on ahead alongside the donkey. Water Qilin glanced sidelong at the donkey and said with contempt, "This little beast is dumb as they come. Hang a radish before its face and it just plods on, never realizing it'll never get to eat it."

The donkey shot him a glance, its face full of scorn.

Water Qilin thought to himself: "I made a pact with the Little Earth Count—I can't eat Old Master Lan, but I can eat a donkey! Only, Dragon Qilin's master is a bit troublesome. He and that scholar are getting along famously, and if I eat the donkey he'll most likely fly into a rage and make me his dinner."

Shen Mu had been watching the young scholar all along, and the more he looked the more suspicious he grew. His gaze fell upon the scholar's chest, but he could see no telltale bulge, so he could not quite be certain.

The scholar noticed his gaze and laughed. "Lü Zheng, this youngster's brows and eyes are shifty—he even stares at a man's chest."

Shen Mu flushed red. The donkey brayed with laughter: "Hee-haw, hee-haw—"

Shen Mu ventured, "Sis—how should I address you, brother?"

The scholar laughed. "When we meet, why must we have known each other? Shen Mu, Shen Fengqing—did I ask your name? I did not ask, so why do you ask mine?"

Shen Mu grew more suspicious still. "You know my name and surname, yet I do not know yours. That seems a little unfair. How did you come to know I am Shen Mu?"

"The Sect Master of the Heavenly Saint Sect, Shen Mu, is dashing and unconstrained, learned and talented—who does not know of him?"

The scholar said, "A nobody of no renown like me, the Sect Master Shen would naturally not know."

Shen Mu could get no name out of him, so he turned to the donkey: "Why is this Brother Lü called Lü Zheng?"

The scholar said, "He is a donkey. His speech is ugly and he loves to argue with people, hence the name Zheng."

Shen Mu's eyes flickered. "I know another ox, called Niu Sanduo, and another tiger, titled the Tiger Venerable."

The donkey curled back its lips and said with disdain, "Hee-haw."

Shen Mu's face darkened, and he thought: "I can't understand this donkey talk. Never studied it. No idea what he's saying. But this master and servant are suspicious in origin—could they be the Scholar Celestial Master?"

They walked into the fog-shrouded ancient battlefield. Within the mist a brilliant haze hung thick, and the buildings here were exceedingly ancient, their patterns most wondrous. Shen Mu had Dragon Qilin stop, and he examined the patterns on the crumbling walls, then took out paper and brush and copied and sketched these veins of design.

The scholar watched him draw and laughed. "The Sect Master Shen is indeed gifted in many arts—he has no small accomplishment in the way of calligraphy and painting as well."

Shen Mu's face reddened slightly. He said modestly, "I would not dare boast of the way of calligraphy and painting—I am only second in the world. First in the world is my family's Deaf Grandpa. His calligraphy and painting enter the Dao, and have inner and outer worlds."

The scholar was astonished and praised him: "His calligraphy and painting have already reached the realm of creating things in the void? And there are inner and outer divisions besides—truly profound accomplishment. But his first place in the world has some water in it, and your second place has some water too."

Shen Mu laughed. "Then who is first in the world?"

The scholar said, "I too have made no small study of the way of calligraphy and painting. When the way of calligraphy and painting is cultivated to a profound realm, it becomes creation—and creation is the divine power of transformation. Of other things I dare not speak, but in the divine power of transformation, none can surpass me."

Shen Mu handed over the brush in his hand. "May I presume to ask you to paint, brother?"

The scholar shook his head. "I do not paint on ordinary days. I paint only when I have use for it."

Shen Mu raised his head and gazed up at the gateway towering into the heavens. "Another Southern Heavenly Gate... a pity it's a broken one! I shall paint a Southern Heavenly Gate!"

With a flick of his brush tip, a great sheet of paper stood upright in the air. Shen Mu turned his palm, four brushes clamped in his left hand, and with his right he traced a circle into being, ink forming of itself and spinning endlessly in the air.

Shen Mu lifted his brush and painted, the strokes moving like dragons and serpents, and countless details flowed from the brush tip, transforming into the veins and patterns of the Southern Heavenly Gate.

Shen Mu's brush flew like the wind, the tip even sinking deep into the interior of the paper, as though within there were another cosmos, another heaven and earth. Though this Southern Heavenly Gate was painted by him upon paper, yet within that paper there seemed to be a world, a vast expanse of space.

His brush became a divine instrument of creation, building up the infinite details of the Southern Heavenly Gate, growing finer and finer still.

In the end, the four brushes flew into the interior of the paper and painted within it, wondrous beyond all description.

After a long while, the Southern Heavenly Gate was finished.

Shen Mu put away brush and ink, plucked the painting down from the air, and shook it hard. At once a Southern Heavenly Gate flew out from the painting and crashed to the ground with a thunderous boom!

This Southern Heavenly Gate stood ten thousand zhang tall, majestic and extraordinary, displaying the full grandeur of the Ancient God Heavenly Court, towering amid this ancient battlefield as a symbol of the Celestial Emperor's awe-inspiring authority.

Shen Mu looked at the scholar and laughed. "How is my art of creation?"

The scholar exclaimed in admiration. "You have not yet entered the Dao, yet you have such accomplishment—you can barely count as third in the world. If you could surpass your Deaf Grandpa, you would barely be second. If you could abandon paper and brush, unconstrained by paper and brush, then you would stand firm in second. As it is, you are still at the level of painting a thing and having it resemble the thing—there is still some distance between you and first."

Shen Mu asked humbly, "Then what level is first?"

"The way of painting has threefold levels. Painting a thing and having it resemble the thing—that is the first level. Painting a thing and having it be the thing—that is the second."

The scholar said, "Not painting, yet following the Dao; no ink, yet heaven and earth arising of themselves—that is the third level."

Even as he spoke, the Southern Heavenly Gate Shen Mu had painted suddenly collapsed and turned back into ink, streaming down from the air.