Chapter 726: Six-Stroke Painting

Episode 28, Chapter 7: Reaching Painter Saint Mountain Again

"Your Majesty flatters me," Meng Chuan said calmly.

Emperor Wanxing looked at Meng Chuan and shook his head. "Dongning, don't refuse so bluntly. Time has a powerful magic. The decision you make today might be completely different in ten thousand or thirty thousand years."

Meng Chuan was slightly startled.

Yes, time changes, and cultivators change too.

"If you ever need anything in the future, for instance, if you require my help on your cultivation path, don't hesitate to ask," Emperor Wanxing said, still enthusiastic. "No Seventh-Tribulation Realm expert lives for the sake of other powerful beings; each has their own cultivation journey. Even if Pavilion Master Bai has shown you kindness, that kindness has its limits. You shouldn't delay your own cultivation for the sake of minor favors."

"Consider my words carefully," Emperor Wanxing said with a slight smile. "My immortal abode is always open to you, Dongning."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Meng Chuan replied courteously. Since the other party was actively showing goodwill, it was important to give them due respect.

Emperor Wanxing nodded slightly, and his avatar departed.

Meng Chuan stood thoughtfully. He could sense Emperor Wanxing's desire to form a connection, and the goodwill was evident.

"To offer such a significant gift, his intentions must be substantial," Meng Chuan mused with a serious expression.

As the common saying goes: "An uninvited courtesy hides ill intent."

Did Emperor Wanxing offer such a gift merely for 'friendship'? Emperor Wanxing could see the future, observing the future timelines of Seventh-Tribulation Realm experts. A gift worth 'tens of millions of squares' surely implies intentions far exceeding that value.

Pavilion Master Bai, the leader of his own faction, had been very clear when offering his generous gift – he wouldn't put Meng Chuan in a difficult position. It was only with this premise that Meng Chuan accepted. At that time, Meng Chuan was only a Sixth-Tribulation Realm expert, and the treasures given by Pavilion Master Bai were priceless artifacts of the Primordial Spirit lineage, significantly more valuable than what Emperor Wanxing offered.

Emperor Wanxing's words were vague, and his requests unclear. How could Meng Chuan dare to accept?

A debt of gratitude is the hardest to repay.

"Pavilion Master Bai acts with integrity and openness, whereas Emperor Wanxing appears enthusiastic but actually wishes to bind me with karma," Meng Chuan thought, feeling displeased with Emperor Wanxing for this reason alone. "No matter. No need to dwell on it. The stronger I become, the better I can withstand any storms. It's time to cultivate at Painter Saint Mountain."

***

Mount Wu Secret Realm, Painter Saint Mountain.

"Greetings, City Lord Dongning." A thin, black-robed old man bowed respectfully. He was Master Duomu, a Sixth-Tribulation Realm Primordial Spirit expert in charge of guarding the Mount Wu Secret Realm.

"Master Duomu," Meng Chuan observed the old man.

"City Lord can just call me Duomu," the thin, black-robed old man said humbly. "The last time City Lord came to Mount Wu Secret Realm, you were still a Sixth-Tribulation Realm expert. In a blink of an eye, you are now a powerful Seventh-Tribulation Realm expert. Duomu is truly impressed."

Master Duomu had long mastered three Sixth-Tribulation Realm rules but was stuck at the final bottleneck. Yet, City Lord Dongning, despite his short cultivation period, first comprehended spatial rules, then mastered the chaotic void rules, and has now become a powerful Seventh-Tribulation Realm expert. This made Master Duomu quite envious. He had been subjected to the Black Demonic Hall's relentless retaliation, and even though his various Primordial Spirit avatars could disperse and regroup at will, an alien force still permeated every one of them. Unless his own Primordial Spirit transformed to the Seventh-Tribulation Realm level, gaining enough power to actively repel the alien force, no one—apart from the Black Demonic Hall itself—could save him.

Meng Chuan's strength had greatly increased, and his inherent domain naturally expanded around him. At first glance, he detected the strange power entangled within the thin, black-robed old man's Primordial Spirit avatar.

"Your injuries?" Meng Chuan asked, looking at him.

"The Nightmare Hall Master personally acted," the thin, black-robed old man said. "He used the strange power contained within the legendary 'Nightmare Hall.' Even Manor Lord Baihua helped me ask the Ancestor of Realms for assistance... but it was still unable to expel this strange power from the Nightmare Hall."

"Oh? May I take a look?" Meng Chuan asked. He knew that the Nightmare Hall was a terrifying inherited treasure.

"Thank you, City Lord." The thin, black-robed old man was somewhat hopeful. The Ancestor of Realms was a Seventh-Tribulation Realm Primordial Spirit expert, and so was City Lord Dongning. Perhaps there was a way to save him? If the alien force were expelled, he would fully recover and still have tens of thousands of years of life remaining.

Meng Chuan extended a wisp of his Primordial Spirit power into the thin, black-robed old man's Primordial Spirit avatar.

"Hm?" As it permeated, Meng Chuan clearly discerned something.

A strange rule, a materialized manifestation of power, had already permeated every part of Master Duomu's Primordial Spirit. This power was very subtle and profound, affecting all his Primordial Spirit avatars and likely all his true body avatars as well.

"This is Nightmare Force?" Meng Chuan knew much more than Master Duomu; the intelligence from White Bird Pavilion had long documented the terror of Nightmare Force. Fortunately, the Nightmare Hall Master's realm wasn't particularly high, so when he used the inherited treasure, he could only unleash a fraction of its power. If the Nightmare Hall Master had reached the peak of the Seventh-Tribulation Realm and wielded the inherited treasure, Master Duomu's injuries would likely have been far more severe, probably resulting in immediate death.

The Black Demonic Hall's two inherited treasures provided assistance to Seventh-Tribulation Realm experts comparable to that of Eternal Secret Treasures.

"Although it's just a trace, Nightmare Force is exceedingly profound. I fear I would need to master the rules of space-time and reach the Half-Step Eighth-Tribulation Realm before I could even attempt to decipher it." Meng Chuan could sense the eerie terror of Nightmare Force, which further reinforced his understanding of the immense power of Eighth-Tribulation Realm existences.

"City Lord, do you have a method?" the thin, black-robed old man couldn't help but ask.

"No, I don't," Meng Chuan said, shaking his head thoughtfully. "If I discover a way to break it in the future, I will come find you."

"City Lord..." The thin, black-robed old man felt a surge of gratitude.

Meng Chuan greatly admired Master Duomu, who detested evil and had formed a profound enmity with the Black Demonic Hall. Unfortunately, he couldn't help him at present.

"You don't need to mind me. I'll just be cultivating in front of Painter Saint Mountain here in the Mount Wu Secret Realm," Meng Chuan said, then took a step and appeared at the foot of Painter Saint Mountain.

With a wave of his hand, an immortal abode spanning several miles descended.

This Primordial Spirit avatar of Meng Chuan secluded himself in this abode, looking up at the ninety-thousand-mile-high cliff face of Painter Saint Mountain, gazing at the astonishing masterpieces.

All thirty-three paintings were extraordinary.

"Time to start painting," he mused.

Sitting in his study, Meng Chuan placed a blank scroll in front of him.

This blank scroll was personally crafted by Meng Chuan, consuming materials worth eight hundred squares. The scroll measured millions of miles in length and width, its uniqueness lying in its immense size and extraordinary material, capable of bearing powerful artworks.

Meng Chuan began by painting works related to the 'Chaotic Void Lineage,' using the Chaotic Void rules as his entry point, which allowed him to better grasp the essence of these paintings.

Time flowed by, and thirty years passed in a blink.

During these thirty years, the River of Spacetime also saw constant turmoil. Conflicts among various top-tier forces persisted, with several battles involving Half-Step Seventh-Tribulation Realm experts. White Bird Pavilion participated in many skirmishes, but none required Meng Chuan to intervene! This was because many disputes were handled by their Sixth-Tribulation Realm subordinates. It was rare for Half-Step Seventh-Tribulation Realm experts to act. Seventh-Tribulation Realm experts also needed to focus on their own cultivation and wouldn't appear in battle unless it was truly crucial. However, once they did appear, they would undoubtedly draw the attention of all major forces in the River of Spacetime.

For these thirty years, Meng Chuan had continuously been painting.

As a Sixth-Tribulation Realm expert, his insight was limited. After becoming a Seventh-Tribulation Realm expert, mastering spatial rules and the fundamental 'Chaotic Void rules,' he could understand these paintings at a deeper level, and his insights naturally differed.

"Thirty years, thirty-two paintings," Meng Chuan thought in his study, feeling that these thirty years had brought immense gains.

He had painted each of the thirty-two works with great diligence.

For those that brought significant insights, he even painted them a second or third time...

Over thirty years, Meng Chuan had gained a deeper understanding of time, space, and the ten fundamental rules. How did the ten fundamental rules cooperate and operate? How did time and space give rise to various rules? He now had at least a vague understanding.

"There's still the thirty-third painting," Meng Chuan looked up, his gaze passing through the study window, over the walls of his abode, and towards the ninety-thousand-mile-high cliff face of Painter Saint Mountain, observing the single, simple painting among the thirty-three masterpieces.

The other thirty-two paintings were all highly intricate, each containing at least one fundamental rule. Only the central painting consisted of just six strokes!

These six strokes appeared extremely casual, yet each was distinct, as if tearing apart chaos and creating a universe. Intersecting with each other, these six strokes gave rise to countless profound mysteries.

Meng Chuan instinctively felt that this painting was far more sophisticated and much harder to comprehend, which was why he saved it for last.

"Let's try it, this six-stroke painting," Meng Chuan said, looking up at the majestic cliff face, carefully observing each stroke of the painting.