Who Is the Brush, Really?

Seeing Ge Junma's corpse, He Caiyuan shuddered. The peddler chuckled. "Feeling awful? Your master is dead. Don't you really want to kowtow to him? Go ahead and kowtow, and I'll let you walk over to him." Tears streamed from the corners of He Caiyuan's eyes; he was truly grieving. After hesitating for a moment, he did not go kowtow, but let out a long sigh. "Lord Ge treated this old man with benevolence as weighty as a mountain. Now that he has departed like this, it twists my heart like a blade!" The peddler sighed. "Such loyalty is rare. Had I known, I would have let you see him one last time. But it's not too late now. That toad doesn't walk fast. If you set off right now, you can still catch up to him on the Yellow Springs Road." He Caiyuan wiped away his tears and shook his head. "The departed is gone, and this old man has no more attachments. Henceforth, I wish to follow Your Excellency, serving at your beck and call, completely at your disposal." The peddler laughed aloud, slowly stepping out from the curtain of night as he wheeled his cart up close to He Caiyuan. Given his status and strength, paired with a trade that took him across every corner of the land, what kind of person had he not seen? Yet someone like He Caiyuan could always offer him a few pleasant surprises. "Tell me first: how did this toad come to Puluo Province? Who sent him here? I'd like to see who exactly broke the rules." He Caiyuan said, "This old man does not yet know the details of it." The peddler looked at He Caiyuan. "If you know nothing at all, what use do I have keeping you around?" He Caiyuan hastily altered his tune: "I did hear some rumors. Someone once said Ge Junma accidentally stumbled into Moxiangdian due to a mishap, got trapped by the local spirit, and couldn't get out." "Accidentally stumbled?" The peddler laughed. "Carelessly left the Inner States, and then just blundered right into Moxiangdian—is that what you mean?" He Caiyuan was no fool; knowing that sounded absurd, he hurriedly explained, "That was only a rumor! If Master would graciously grant this old slave three days, this old slave will surely get to the bottom of the matter." The peddler broke out in goosebumps. After exchanging barely a few sentences, He Caiyuan was already volunteering to call him 'Master' and referring to himself as 'this old slave.' "Do you genuinely want to follow me?" The peddler leaned against his handcart, casually twirling the rattle drum. He Caiyuan hitched up his robe, fell to his knees, and kowtowed to the peddler. "This old slave is willing to entrust this life to Master!" The peddler nodded. "Fine. Your life, I'll take it." Nearby, Chu Shaoqiang saw everything clearly. He knew it was impossible for the peddler to spare He Caiyuan. Yet what he did not expect was that He Caiyuan suddenly flipped up the robe trailing on the ground. Beneath his robe were two massive characters written in blood. One was the character for "Net," and the other for "Kill," flying swiftly toward the peddler. These two characters were secretly written while He Caiyuan had been begging the peddler for mercy. The character for "Kill" was meant to fight the peddler—that was easy enough to understand. But Chu Shaoqiang could not figure out what the character for "Net" was for. Trying to trap the peddler with a single net would be child's play. But this character was not just one net. Stroke by stroke, layer upon layer, it nested hundreds of minuscule "Net" characters within itself! To write such a character right under the peddler's nose was proof enough of He Caiyuan's extraordinary skill. According to He Caiyuan's calculation, the peddler would surely shatter the "Kill" character first before dealing with the "Net." At that moment, hundreds of nets would spread open simultaneously, buying He Caiyuan a fraction of time—and with that fraction of time, he would have a chance to slip away from the peddler's grasp. Watching the two characters fly over, the peddler remained seated on his cart. Twirling the rattle drum left and right, he effortlessly caught both characters. Hundreds of nets sprang open together—yet instead of snaring the peddler, they ensnared the rattle drum. The peddler smiled; He Caiyuan wept. He knew the peddler was formidable, but he had never imagined he would be formidable to such an extent. With a flick of his hand, the peddler parted the layers of silken nets. On the face of the drum, He Caiyuan's bloodstains were revealed. "Is this your blood?" He Caiyuan scrambled to his feet and ran. The peddler gripped the drumhead with his left hand and the drum handle with his right, then gave a gentle twist with both hands. He Caiyuan's entire body twisted like a cruller, collapsing to the ground, motionless. Sweat poured down Chu Shaoqiang's cheeks non-stop. The peddler looked at him and said, "Your turn." Chu Shaoqiang stammered tremulously, "I don't know why Ge Junma came to Moxiangdian! I received word from the Inner States saying he was trapped here, and that as long as I rescued him, they would no longer pursue the matter of Qiu Luoye." "Do you truly know only this much?" Chu Shaoqiang nodded repeatedly. "I wouldn't dare lie to you! Everything I said is the truth. If you can spare my life, I will be endlessly grateful. If you must kill me, please make it quick." The peddler walked over to Chu Shaoqiang, took out a piece of burlap cloth, shook it out, and wiped Chu Shaoqiang's sweat. "Look at how terrified you are; your sweat won't even wipe clean. Here, I'll give you a bar of soap—take it and go wash up." The peddler reached out, and a bar of soap flew over from the handcart. Holding it in his hand, the peddler sniffed it. "Rose-scented. Have a taste." With that, the peddler shoved the bar of soap into Chu Shaoqiang's mouth. Leaving no room for Chu Shaoqiang to resist, the soap slid straight down his throat. A pungent rose fragrance, laced with lather, surged back up his esophagus. Chu Shaoqiang dared not struggle, dared not even spit out the foam, standing meekly right where he was. Having swallowed this bar of soap, Chu Shaoqiang knew in his heart that his life was spared for now. Yet he also knew that unless the peddler consented, this bar of soap would never come out again. In the days ahead, he would have many things to do—and exactly what things would depend entirely on the peddler's bidding. "Go on, go wash your face." The peddler waved his hand, and Chu Shaoqiang took to his heels and fled. The peddler walked into the forest and saw Li Banfeng wrapping his wounds with adhesive tape. "These Western contraptions are useless—they only stop bleeding at best. I have some vanishing cream here. Rub some on, and your wounds will heal quickly without leaving scars." Li Banfeng gave a cold scoff. "When did you get here? Did you arrive long ago and just watch me get beaten up?" The peddler said with a straight face, "How could that be? I just arrived!" "How 'just'?" "How many beats of the drum did you hear just now?" Li Banfeng recalled, "Clang-dang-dang-dang. Four beats." "Wrong," the peddler shook his head. "It was Dang! Clang-dang-dang-dang! Five beats. I struck it once first to take down that toad, and then immediately came out to save you." "Took it down with just one beat?" Li Banfeng did not believe him. "Besides, I was guarding the entrance the entire time. Where did you enter from?" "You mean that lake? It has more than one entrance. We still don't know which entrance Ge Junma came in through. It really wasn't easy for that scholar to hold out inside for so long." *That scholar?* "You mean Moxiangdian's local spirit?" Li Banfeng had been meaning to ask about this. "How did the local spirit here end up like that? Attacking anyone on sight without distinguishing friend from foe?" "Don't ask me," the peddler chuckled ruefully. "I sold a brush, only for it to be reduced to this state. It breaks my heart to see it too." "You sold a brush?" Li Banfeng picked up his Judge's Brush. "Someone gave this to me, you didn't sell it to me." The peddler shook his head. "I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about your Judge's Brush." "You sold a brush to my Judge's Brush?" The phrasing was a tongue-twister. Li Banfeng frowned. "Could you speak more clearly?" "You don't understand?" The peddler smiled. "Ask your Judge's Brush. In three sentences he can guess a visitor's intent; in five sentences he can see through a person's heart. See if he can figure it out." Weren't those words used to describe Murong Gui? How had they ended up applied to the Judge's Brush? From the side, the Judge's Brush retorted to the peddler, "Guess my ass." "Crude!" Hearing that, the peddler said, "Stay around this vulgar fellow long enough, and even the Wisdom-Karmic Scholar turns bad." Li Banfeng picked up the Judge's Brush. "He is the Wisdom-Karmic Scholar?" The peddler nodded. "Yes. The greatest talent of Moxiangdian, born with an innate affinity for words—that's him. "Murong Gui was originally an impoverished scholar. When he was young, he built a fortune relying on his vast learning. "Back when his cultivation was still at the ground-crust, he was already highly prestigious in Moxiangdian and founded a major gang called the Moke Gang. "At the time, Moxiangdian's local spirit was named Eight Dou Scholar. Seeing his name adopted for the gang, Eight Dou Scholar wasn't angry in the least; on the contrary, he greatly appreciated Murong Gui and took him as a disciple. "Eight Dou Scholar used special means to help Murong Gui skip past the Inner States and reach above the clouds, entrusting the territory of Moxiangdian to the Wisdom-Karmic Scholar. Eight Dou Scholar then vanished without a trace. "From then on, Murong Gui became Moxiangdian's local spirit." Li Banfeng looked at the Judge's Brush. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" The Judge's Brush brewed over it for a long while before saying, "Too long." Li Banfeng asked the peddler, "Why did Murong Gui turn into a Judge's Brush?" The peddler sighed. "There's a lot to it. Who knows how long it would take to explain in full. Everyone in the world thought Murong Gui was brilliant at plumbing human hearts. If he guessed right, people took it as only natural; if he guessed wrong, it was treated as an unpardonable sin. "No matter how extraordinary one's methods are, who could guess correctly every single time? And even if you guess right, who could handle every situation flawlessly? "As the head of a family, anything that went wrong in the household was blamed on him. As the leader of a gang, anything amiss in the gang was blamed on him. As the lord of a territory, every problem across the domain fell on his shoulders. "Moxiangdian is full of literati everywhere, and you know how literati talk—beating around the bush, impossible to read, and at the slightest issue, they denounce you in speech and writing without end. "On top of that, Moxiangdian is a peculiar place: it has to make the illiterate want to learn, make those who can read keep studying, and make the learned study twice as hard. Just upholding the rules of the territory was enough to leave a person thoroughly exhausted. Add to that the constant guessing of hearts, and Murong Gui simply couldn't take it anymore." At this point, the Judge's Brush shouted, "The old thief ran away!" *Which old thief?* The peddler said, "He's talking about Eight Dou Scholar. The day he left Moxiangdian, he was exceedingly joyful. "After serving as the local spirit for a few years, Murong Gui changed. Completely changed." Li Banfeng asked, "What did he change into?" The peddler picked up the Judge's Brush and wrote the character *Hui* beneath a willow tree. The local spirit's dwelling revealed itself. He led Li Banfeng across the frozen lake and into a pavilion amidst a bamboo grove. Moxiangdian's "local spirit" was currently inside the pavilion. With the toad in the lake slain by the peddler, he no longer needed to direct his power onto the lake's surface, yet he was still writing furiously at the desk. He wasn't writing *Kill* or *Fight*; what he wrote were the three rules of Moxiangdian: "The illiterate should feel shame," "The literate should strive," and "All people should study letters." The peddler pointed at the wall. "These are the characters Murong Gui left behind back then." Li Banfeng looked up. Those four large characters were written with heavy, powerful brushstrokes, exuding immense vigor. The words read: *I'm Done Guessing!* The peddler raised an eyebrow. "He quit guessing. He stopped giving a damn about anything. There's a saying in the Outer States called 'letting it rot'—do you know it?" Li Banfeng nodded. "I know that one." The peddler continued, "Because he gave up and let things rot, plenty of trouble broke out in Moxiangdian. I sold him a brush—one with spirituality, capable of helping him maintain order in the territory. "I originally intended for the brush to share some of his burdens. Who could have known that shameless wretch Murong Gui secretly joined the Sloth Cultivator pathway? Using the methods of a Sloth Cultivator, he transferred his Literary Cultivator cultivation into the brush. "He turned himself into a brush and made the brush into the local spirit. Then, masquerading as a magical artifact, he drifted out among the common folk and made his escape! "Pity my fine brush, guarding this territory conscientiously for all these years. Its spirituality remains, but its sentience has been worn down to almost nothing. "Now, it attacks anyone on sight without distinguishing friend from foe. Fortunately, it still recognized me and didn't attack me." As he spoke, the peddler patted this "local spirit" with heartache. The "local spirit" lifted his head, stared at the peddler for a long time, then opened his mouth and bit down hard on the peddler's hand. "Let go! Let go of me!" Kicking and thrashing, the peddler pulled his hand free. That bite was vicious, leaving the peddler shivering in pain. Li Banfeng looked at the Judge's Brush and asked, "How did you transfer your cultivation into a brush?" "Hmph!" the Judge's Brush snorted in reply, rolled over, and went to sleep.