C49 Hardly Practicing Calligraphy

"Force, in its essence, is ethereal and shapeless, unable to truly influence others—except for cultivators, who are an exception."

A golden glow danced in his hand, seemingly alive. Ni Huibo observed it intently. Suddenly, the glow leapt from the mayor's palm onto the scroll.

"Spiritual Qi is the foundation of all things, capable of integrating with everything in the world. When Spiritual Qi infuses an object, what was once an intangible force becomes immensely amplified. This tangible force is what I'm referring to."

The old mayor spoke as if to himself, then lightly touched the scroll. Instantly, a pressure emanated, swiftly enveloping the room.

Ni Huibo felt a heaviness, as though a formidable force was pressing down on him. Thankfully, the force was manageable, and he could just about resist it.

"Do you know why the prime minister's calligraphy is so highly esteemed?"

The old mayor abruptly shifted the conversation.

Ni Huibo thought for a moment before shaking his head. He was aware that the issue at hand was likely more complex than he realized, and the old mayor was now imparting his knowledge.

"The prime minister's calligraphic skill is indeed exceptional, but his cultivation is another reason his work is so revered."

Ni Huibo's brow furrowed, puzzled.

"Exactly. The prime minister's cultivation has resulted in an exceptionally strong aura."

"This kind of force, we often refer to as 'coercion.'"

Ni Huibo fell silent, not in astonishment this time, but in contemplation, recalling the overwhelming pressure he had felt from the old mayor, which had nearly left him breathless.

The old mayor, noticing Ni Huibo's silence, was unfazed and continued, "There's no need for me to elaborate on this ability—you will come to understand it naturally. However, seeing that you possess a certain proficiency in calligraphy, it would be regrettable to let it go to waste."

"Thank you, mayor," Ni Huibo responded.

The old mayor gestured dismissively and yawned, "Well, that's enough for today. I've taught you the method. As for the calligraphy, leave it here."

After he finished speaking, he turned away.

"I guess I'll be on my way then," Ni Huibo said.

With that, he left the cabin. As soon as he stepped outside, he was greeted by the sight of Du Aijiao waiting for him.

Du Aijiao's eyes were narrow and elongated, almost giving the impression that he was perpetually squinting. Were it not for the warm smile gracing his face, Ni Huibo might have mistaken him for being asleep.

"Brother Ni, how did your studies go today?" Du Aijiao asked with a smile, even before Ni Huibo could utter a word.

"Not bad," Ni Huibo replied, his mind drifting back to the calligraphy he had first laid eyes on. He looked at Du Aijiao with a curious intensity.

Unperturbed, Du Aijiao gestured behind him and said, "The carriage is ready. It will take you straight back to the Ni family. If you need anything, just speak to the coachman."

"Thank you," Ni Huibo responded earnestly, and then he departed.

"Sir," Du Aijiao called out as he stepped into the cabin and positioned himself behind the old mayor.

"Jiang, when you're free, keep an eye on the boy for me. If he runs into any trouble, lend him a hand. He's a promising young man."

"And if it's related to those matters?" Du Aijiao's smile faded as he asked with a hint of hesitation.

Silence filled the cabin for a moment.

"Just do what you can. We shouldn't get too involved. Let's hope he's made some progress today."

The carriage journeyed on smoothly. Inside, Ni Huibo sat with furrowed brows and a pensive look in his eyes.

Upon reaching the Ni family estate, he disembarked from the carriage in a daze and made his way back to the courtyard.

The old mayor had always instructed him on how to infuse his aura into his writing, but the true significance of it had eluded him until now.

In the rundown cabin, a sheet of rice paper was quietly laid out.

"Have you heard? Ni Huibo has lost his mind!"

"Ni Huibo?"

"Yeah, he's been holed up in the courtyard writing non-stop. Every day, he produces enough discarded paper to fill a room, and not even the family head could persuade him to stop."

"Is this about the Ni Huibo who's at the late period of the first level?"

"That's the one. He's stopped practicing cultivation altogether, yet the family head has even bestowed upon him a medium-grade, first-level cultivation method."

Within the Ni family, a young disciple grumbled bitterly, his eyes brimming with discontent. Those around him, upon hearing his words, displayed similar looks of displeasure.

Ever since the competition concluded, Ni Xianjian had compensated Ni Huibo with a cultivation method, which sparked considerable gossip among the clan members. Yet, the clan leader's authority swiftly silenced these murmurs.

Now, Ni Huibo's daily obsession with calligraphy, to the point of abandoning his cultivation, was causing widespread irritation. With just over half a month left before the grand competition of the three great clans, the other four members of the Ni family were diligently isolating themselves for intense training. Only Ni Huibo appeared indifferent to the event.

What was most concerning was that, in the past two months, three clan members had advanced to the late period of the first level. One had achieved this breakthrough just two days after the competition, leading many to speculate that an earlier breakthrough might have placed him in the top five.

This sense of regret was usually insignificant, but with Ni Huibo's apparent negligence, it became a focal point of discussion. Numerous youths voiced their opinions, suggesting that those who had recently made breakthroughs be given a chance. To them, Ni Huibo's behavior seemed irresponsible to the family.

However, as soon as these suggestions were raised, they were flatly rejected by Ni Xianjian.

Meanwhile, in the courtyard, the catalyst of all this commotion remained blissfully unaware. Another sheet of rice paper was crumpled into a ball and tossed aside. A mountain of discarded paper, as tall as a person, now blocked the narrow entrance, preventing even a sliver of sunlight from entering.

"Is it because my level isn't high enough? I've been at this for so long and still, there's no progress," he mused, running his hands through his unkempt hair. The ink stains on his plain robe stood out starkly.

Since his return to the Ni family, he had sequestered himself in his room, practicing the old mayor's methods. The initial two days brought no improvement, but gradually, he had made some progress. Now, however, he seemed to have hit a bottleneck.

For nearly four or five days, no matter how intensely he practiced and tried to understand, he just couldn't advance any further.