The cliff face, steep as a sheer wall, though not excessively high, sent torrents of water crashing down due to the geography. The water roared into the pool below, and almost instantly the violent shock subsided into stagnant calm. Surrounded by a thicket of dense trees that entirely enclosed this small world, Ye Wen felt no concern about being observed in his current state.

Seated beneath the waterfall, he allowed the icy flow to sluice over his body. The impact of the freezing current against his head calmed the rising heat in his mind significantly.

"Luckily, my internal energy is quite profound, otherwise, clearing this residual poison from my body would have been truly difficult!" After offering a silent expression of gratitude, Ye Wen remained seated under the cascade. It wasn't due to any masochistic preference; rather, letting the water crash down on him seemed to offer a slight benefit to his internal force.

However, the effect was negligible, far slower than self-cultivation. In truth, this wasn't agonizingly slow; if not for the wondrous Cold Spring back at the Shu Mountain Sect, he would genuinely consider seeking out a great waterfall for some serious training.

"Or perhaps learn from that Great Hero Yang and practice facing the ocean tides?" Pingzhou did indeed have a sea. But previously, with the Cold Spring nearby, Ye Wen had temporarily set aside this method—reputed to forge peerless, dominating internal energy—only to recall it now, drenched by this waterfall.

After sitting still for a full day and night, Ye Wen finally rose from beneath the torrent as the next dawn broke. That day, he hunted some nearby game and caught a fish to cover his three meals, eating heartily despite the lack of seasoning.

In this world untouched by the blight of technology and craftsmanship, the flavor of these native fish and fowl was incomparably superior. If he hadn't been burdened with the rise and fall of an entire sect, he truly might have discarded everything to wander the world alone, tasting the wild delicacies of every region.

In the span of that single thought, countless rare and exotic beasts across the realm had already circled the tip of someone’s tongue.

In the days that followed, Ye Wen did not return directly to Shushan County; instead, he lingered around Pingbei County for a while. He was wary that the Tianle Gang might seize the opportunity to dispatch pursuers. It wasn't that Ye Wen couldn't simply return to Shu Mountain and await his enemies; rather, he felt he could utilize the considerable distance between Pingbei County and Shushan County to maneuver against the enemy, perhaps even annihilate them outright.

Regrettably, the Tianle Gang made no move. Recalling what Huayi had once mentioned—that the Tianle Gang had more pressing matters in the Central Plains—it seemed they would be too preoccupied to deal with him for the time being.

Once he confirmed this, Ye Wen finally turned his steps toward the return journey. This time, his travels were much like his arrival; he dealt with any injustice he encountered along the way but didn't actively seek trouble.

He encountered no reckless bandits this time; perhaps his excessive ruthlessness on the way over had already established his reputation, making even the most audacious mountain thieves hesitant to provoke him.

No bandits, however, did not mean a complete lack of trouble. The moment he entered Xifeng City, where Pinggang Prefecture was located, a cutpurse immediately targeted the deerskin pouch hanging perpetually at Ye Wen’s waist.

Had Ye Wen not been alert, this item would surely have been stolen, just like the fragrant sachet.

"If the sachet is lost, and the deerskin pouch is lost too, my junior sister will surely fight me to the death!" Consequently, Ye Wen promptly turned the would-be thief over to the local yamen. He even borrowed a brush from a nearby fortune-teller and wrote the large character "THIEF" across the rogue’s face before handing him over. How the yamen dealt with him afterward was no longer his concern.

He initially thought this handling was sufficiently low-profile; at least he hadn't crippled or outright killed the thief on the spot, so no one should have noticed him. Unexpectedly, he found a small shadow trailing him for the remainder of his journey.

Weaving and deliberately doubling back several times, he couldn't shake the follower. Ye Wen concluded that the person behind him was likely a local fixture, intimately familiar with the surroundings, which explained why he couldn't lose him.

Seeing this, Ye Wen stopped trying to evade. He walked into a dead-end alley and stood waiting quietly for the pursuer. The follower was clearly not a practitioner of martial arts; though he trailed Ye Wen closely, he did so with considerable strain.

Why someone like this would target him, Ye Wen truly couldn't fathom. Perhaps the only explanation was that a down-and-out youth, eager to learn martial arts, intended to ask him to become his master?

"It seems that's the only explanation that fits!" After waiting a short while, a scholar eventually stumbled into the alley. Seeing Ye Wen standing quietly and looking at him, the scholar immediately straightened his slightly disheveled robes, then executed a profoundly respectful bow—a full ninety degrees—before speaking: "This humble junior, Liu Muyan, greets you, Sir!" Ye Wen was momentarily stunned by the scholar's deep bow. Only when he noticed the man remained bent over without rising did he return the gesture: "My esteemed friend, you are too kind. I certainly do not deserve the title of 'Sir'!" In this era, 'Sir' was not a casual address. Ye Wen was neither related to nor acquainted with this Liu Muyan; this was their first meeting, so he could not accept such deference.

Unexpectedly, Liu Muyan, clearly a scholar, insisted respectfully: "You deserve it, you deserve it! Based solely on the exquisite calligraphy you displayed earlier, the title 'Sir' is fully earned!" "The calligraphy..."

Noticing Ye Wen’s look of incomprehension, Liu Muyan hastened to explain: "Just moments ago, amidst that commotion, I saw Sir take up a brush and write that large character, 'THIEF,' on the face of that scoundrel. Not only was it vigorous and powerful, but it subtly captured the essence of the character 'THIEF,' rendering it so vividly, as if the man himself were a genuine pilferer. Such brushwork truly earns my profound admiration!"

At this, Ye Wen finally understood that this Liu Muyan had been drawn in simply by a casual stroke of his brush.

Speaking of calligraphy, Ye Wen indeed owed a debt to his predecessor. As for himself, he possessed almost no aptitude for the art, but the original owner of this body had a considerable fondness for both calligraphy and painting, diligently practicing for many years. Sadly, he hadn't achieved anything notable before his untimely end.

After Ye Wen took possession of the body, since this world relied exclusively on brush and ink, and Ning Ruxue was intimately familiar with her Senior Brother's handwriting, he was nervous for quite some time, initially daring not even to touch a brush.

Later, after tentatively attempting a few characters in secret, he discovered that this body retained a deep muscle memory for writing. The hand holding the brush could write naturally whatever he intended to express.

With this realization, he relaxed, no longer hesitant to pick up the brush. As his martial prowess deepened, his hand grew steady and strong, making his script increasingly vigorous. Now, it vaguely approached a unique style of its own, to the extent that even Xu Xian envied his writing.

"If Senior Brother hadn't wasted so much time on those inexplicable drawings, his mastery of calligraphy would likely be even greater!" Ye Wen usually paid little mind to his junior brother's teasing remarks, thinking only to himself: I painted two comics when I was bored, and you complain? Didn't you enjoy looking at them immensely?

Yet, Ye Wen himself didn't place much value on his calligraphy, considering it merely sufficient to avoid embarrassment when writing letters or copying texts. He genuinely couldn't see the utility of excellent penmanship for someone navigating the martial world.

Who knew that today, because of a single character, he had attracted a scholar.

"You followed me after seeing my writing?" Seeing the scholar nod, Ye Wen then asked, "Then what is your purpose in following? Surely you don't want me to help you draft family correspondence? I observe that you, brother..." As Ye Wen spoke, he lifted his forearm slightly and swept it downward, an implicit gesture—this Liu Muyan was dressed as a scholar and was certainly not illiterate.

Liu Muyan shook his head: "This humble one is twenty-eight years old and has repeatedly sat for the Imperial Examinations without success. I am confident my knowledge is second to none, yet I haven't even managed to become a Xiucai (Tributary Student), all because..."

"Because of what?" Ye Wen was a little curious. If this man wasn't boasting wildly, there must be some unspeakable difficulty. Otherwise, how could he fail to pass even the Xiucai exam? For a scholar, this was indeed a devastating blow.

Especially since he was already twenty-eight, pushing thirty—in this world, reaching thirty without accomplishment branded one a failure. What could a frail scholar, who had studied for over two decades, possibly do? He would either die in poverty or abandon his books to take up any manual labor he was capable of for a living.

And someone like Liu Muyan, so confident in his learning, likely wouldn't give up the path of study and examination. Therefore, the likelihood of dying destitute was slightly higher.

"Because..." Liu Muyan seemed to struggle with an unspeakable matter, stammering when he spoke.

Ye Wen waited a moment, growing impatient. He was not acquainted with Liu Muyan; their conversation had started only out of fleeting curiosity. Now, the man couldn't even speak fluently, so Ye Wen naturally lost interest in listening further. He casually remarked, "Since you are unwilling to tell me, then I shall take my leave!" With that, he turned to depart. Seeing this, Liu Muyan panicked, hastily blurting out, "Because my handwriting is simply too sloppy and ugly, the esteemed examiners refuse to even let me complete the exams! In fact, in the last two examinations, they tossed aside my papers without even reading the content!" Saying this, a stifling frustration welled up in Liu Muyan's chest. Over the years, how much time had he wasted because of this handwriting? Examinations weren't held annually; each time one arrived, he had to exert his full effort.

He was confident that with his knowledge, achieving the Triple Laureate consecutively was not impossible. Yet, after struggling for over a decade, he wasn't even a Xiucai—the lowest qualification attainable for a scholar; only those who read were scholars.

Ranks like Juren or even the Zhuangyuan of the Palace Examination were far out of reach. After hitting obstacles several times, Liu Muyan resolved to find a calligraphy master to practice diligently. Coincidentally, this was when he encountered Ye Wen subduing the pickpocket amidst the commotion. At first, seeing the young man apprehending the thief look scholarly and refined, he assumed he was a fellow scholar, only to discover he was a martial arts expert. With a mere clench of his hand, the captured thief screamed in agony.

At the time, Liu Muyan assumed it was just another martial artist using force under the guise of justice, inwardly lamenting why such a handsome young man would turn into a ruffian. Then, to his astonishment, he saw the young man borrow a brush from the fortune-teller on the street and inscribe a single character onto the thief's face.

He was instantly captivated by the writing. He mused that since he hadn't seen this man's style before, he must have developed a unique school of his own. Such a person, even if not a master calligrapher, must possess profound insight into the art. How could he let such an opportunity pass him by today?

He didn't even pay attention to what followed: Ye Wen taking the thief to the yamen, glancing at the two guards stationed there, casually tossing the thief in front of them, and turning to leave. Instead, he followed Ye Wen persistently, hoping to find an opportunity to request tutelage in calligraphy.

Hearing Liu Muyan's account, Ye Wen was astonished. He never imagined that a casual inscription would attract someone seeking discipleship. Although Ye Wen himself was the founder and master of a sect responsible for teaching disciples, learning calligraphy...

"You want to learn calligraphy from me?"

Liu Muyan nodded furiously, then performed another deep bow: "I implore you, Sir, accept me as your student!" Ye Wen scratched his head: "Well... it's not impossible to teach," but then added, "You haven't even bothered to ask who I am or what I do before requesting discipleship—isn't that overly reckless?" Liu Muyan was alarmed. He suddenly remembered that this person before him was not some world-renowned, erudite Confucian scholar. Setting aside the young appearance (after all, the texts state that those who achieve greatness are respected regardless of age; since this man wrote better than him, learning from him was not inappropriate), he recalled how the young man had effortlessly subdued a thief during the disturbance, leaving the culprit utterly helpless. This suggested the person possessed power far beyond the ordinary.

"Although people in the Jianghu act purely on whim, there are still so-called righteous sects. If this gentleman is from a righteous sect, that's fine. But if he is a disciple of an evil faction, what am I to do?"

Liu Muyan pondered this, his eyes darting around, but he did not withdraw his bow, remaining respectfully before Ye Wen.

Seeing his demeanor, Ye Wen decided not to press him further and gave a direct answer: "I am Ye Wen, the Sect Master of the Shu Mountain Sect. While our sect widely accepts disciples and imparts skills, we teach martial arts. As for things like calligraphy..."

Ye Wen almost said that while they did teach writing, it was only done incidentally and was not emphasized. There wasn't a single disciple who studied literature exclusively instead of martial arts; he wasn't running the Shu Mountain Academy.

"Shu Mountain Sect..." Liu Muyan, though he traveled often, knew very little about the affairs of the martial world. His circle only recognized widely known righteous sects like the Chan Sect, the Heavenly Dao Sect, or the Tian Shan School. He had never even heard of small, obscure factions, let alone the Shu Mountain Sect, a rising power that had only emerged in recent years.

"It is located on Shu Mountain outside Shushan County. My sect has only developed over the last two years, so it's not surprising you haven't heard of it!" Ye Wen replied casually, thinking that since the man knew he taught martial arts and that his sect was small, he would likely lose interest.

Unexpectedly, Liu Muyan cared nothing for those aspects. The size or strength of the sect was irrelevant to him. What interested him was that the Sect Master, Ye Wen, was skilled in calligraphy. What mattered to him was whether the sect was righteous or evil. If it were righteous, it would be beneficial later if he succeeded in the bureaucracy; conversely, if he rashly joined an evil faction that harmed the populace, he would ruin his entire life.

After much thought, relying on his embarrassingly meager martial arts knowledge, Liu Muyan reached a relatively acceptable conclusion: "Since it's called the Shu Mountain Sect, I suppose it can't be a truly bad sect, right? I recall that most groups called 'Sects' are righteous. Evil groups are usually called 'Cults' or 'Gangs'!" Ye Wen didn't know his internal debate. He assumed that by clarifying his role, the man would stop pestering him, and he turned to leave. Unexpectedly, the moment he turned, a 'thud' sounded from behind him.

He spun around to see Liu Muyan kneeling firmly on the ground, having completed three full kowtows, shouting, "I beg you, Sir, accept this student! I am willing to join your lineage!"

Liu Muyan knew nothing of the Shu Mountain Sect's current status or the strict protocols involved when a major martial sect accepted disciples—it wasn't something achieved with a few kowtows. Even during the Shu Mountain Sect's most difficult times, Ye Wen was extremely cautious in accepting disciples; to date, he had only three, all of whom possessed extraordinary natural talent.

And this Liu Muyan...

Setting aside his nearly thirty years of age, there was the question of whether his bookish aura could withstand the rigors of life at Shu Mountain. Ye Wen paused, seeing the man had already kowtowed and considering that he could teach him. He finally consented: "If you wish to learn calligraphy from me, then follow me. Although I don't claim expertise, since you wish to learn, teaching you is no trouble. As for formal discipleship... we can discuss that later..." Ye Wen thought this answer should satisfy the great scholar. Instead, the man kowtowed several more times, insisting, "If I receive your instruction, you are my master. Master above, accept this bow from your student!"

Hearing this, Ye Wen knew he couldn't escape. He endured a few more bows before telling Liu Muyan to rise quickly.

"Since you have accepted me as your master, I cannot treat you poorly. First, take me to your residence, pack your things, and write a few characters for me to see. That way, I can gauge just how atrocious your current handwriting is!"

He thought to himself that someone whose writing could cause examiners to discard papers without reading them must possess characters that resembled ghosts crying and wolves howling.

He had held a faint hope, thinking that someone who spent so long engaged with writing must have some inherent restraint, even if their work was poor. He only needed to offer minor guidance to be rid of this scholar.

But when he arrived at Liu Muyan's lodging, and the newly acquired student presented the character samples he had written, Ye Wen stared at them three times, suddenly feeling a strong impulse to faint.

Because after studying them for so long, he could only vaguely discern what the characters were supposed to be. He realized that if a stack of such writing appeared on an examination paper, anyone who looked at it would likely vomit; no wonder the examining officials lacked the desire to even glance at it.

Worse still, when Ye Wen held the writing at arm's length to observe it better, he faintly sensed that what he held was not a collection of characters, but rather an ink wash painting—one executed in a highly abstract, postmodern style.

Ye Wen immediately felt an intense urge to ask Liu Muyan: "Tell me, are you actually Old Wu from the floor above my previous residence in disguise?"

...

PS: Uh... ah..., well, the end of the month is here. If you have monthly tickets, don't hold onto them; use them quickly!