I was forced to cultivate immortality when I just wanted to lie down

Chapter 255 The Scholar's Flower, the Divine Water

Having been given a second chance at life, Lu Xiu didn't crave a long life. The only thing he couldn't let go of was his helplessness when facing evil spirits.

If he had the ability to dispel evil and exorcise demons, why would he have allowed Yang Mingchun to act recklessly until now?
"Thank you for not abandoning me, Master. I am willing to learn the methods of establishing myself and protecting the Way!"

Lu Xiu made up his mind that if he could truly learn the true magic, he would definitely travel the world, slay demons and subdue monsters. Even if he could not restore the world to its former glory, he would do his best to reduce injustice and unfairness in the world.

“You don’t need to do that. My path is not suitable for you, and I cannot be your master. The method of Wenxin Diaolong was something I obtained by chance. At most, I can only guide you into the path. As for your future achievements, that depends on yourself.”

"A teacher for a day is a teacher for life. The students will forever remember the kindness of the teacher in imparting knowledge."

Xu Qing shook his head helplessly, no longer caring about Lu Xiu's thoughts.

After taking out all the necessary items for the tattoo, Xu Qing asked one last time, "Have you thought this through? Although the Wenxin Diaolong Technique can transform literature into martial arts and suppress villains, once you have a dragon tattooed on your body, you will never be able to become an official again."

During the Dayong Dynasty, scholars of mediocre literary talent often enjoyed tattoos, usually small and auspicious designs like qilin riding on clouds or plucking laurel branches in the moon palace, hoping for success in the imperial examinations. But a scholar with a dragon tattoo was unheard of, let alone a top scholar!

"Do you think I can still serve as an official, sir?" Lu Xiu chuckled lightly, with a hint of self-deprecation in his voice.

Xu Qing chuckled and said, "That's not necessarily true. The current emperor has lost his virtue, the Ziwei star is dim and obscure, while a star shines brightly in the north. In ten years at most, or three to five years at least, the world will likely undergo a dramatic change."

"If the country changes hands at that time, Magistrate Lu's talent as a top scholar may still be put to use."

Lu Xiu shook his head and said, "As long as one is devoted to the righteous path, there is no difference between being an official and a commoner. Besides, what you said has not yet been proven. What if the Yong Dynasty still has a destiny? Furthermore, even if the country does change hands, will there be fewer evil spirits in the world?"

"The two children, Deaf and Mute, have said that in this world, the secrets of heaven are not revealed, and the gods are unwilling to descend and expel the evil spirits on their own. In the future, there will only be more and more evil spirits. If there are any more virtuous people and honest officials who are harmed by demons, it would be too regrettable. Rather than that, it would be better for me to step in and use my body to eliminate the evil spirits."

"Have you really thought about it?"

"If you have truly made up your mind, then please proceed as you see fit, sir!"

"No, I meant that tattoos might hurt a little."

Xu Qing picked up an iron needle that was at least a hand's length long, which looked particularly terrifying.

Lu Xiu chuckled and even recited a poem: "Sleepless with pain, yet I have no regrets, for I am glad to be alone in this old age. Otherwise, at the head of the Lu River, my body would have perished, my soul lost and my bones scattered. What is this mere pain?!"

Xu Qing couldn't stand the other party's pretentious act, and without saying a word, she dropped the needle in her hand.

Poor Lu Xiu wasn't killed by the fox demon, but almost died from the pain on the spot!

"If it hurts, cry out. Don't hold it in."

"It doesn't hurt! I endured the pain of being killed for ten years, so why would I be afraid of this little bit of pain?"

Lu Xiu gritted her teeth, cold sweat pouring down her body. Xu Qing looked up in surprise, and when she saw the other's bloodshot eyes, she couldn't help but shake her head.

Few scholars possess such integrity, and the current Magistrate Lu has earned his respect.

Tattooing, also known as sculpting or tattooing, is an easy skill to learn, but difficult to master.

Those who can do tattoos must have a certain level of skill in painting and also be able to mix the ink pigments needed for tattooing.

That being said, finding a tattoo artist is not difficult, but finding someone who is skilled in the art of tattooing and is also an excellent tattoo artist is harder than climbing to heaven!
Xu Qing is proficient in various folk arts, and the small art of tattooing is a piece of cake for him.

Xuan Yu ground gold ink with the Benevolence Seal, which Xu Qing had specially mixed with musk powder and some pearl powder.

The main focus is on a dish that is visually appealing, delicious, and fragrant.

Aside from external factors like color and taste, the core essence of Wenxin Diaolong is 'literary spirit penetrating the skin'. Xu Qing did this work with extreme care. Lu Xiu, feeling the pain in his back, suddenly asked, "Sir, are you carving characters?"

Xu Qing raised an eyebrow, surprised that this top scholar had sensitive skin and could detect that he was carving words.

"The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons is a painting created with the words of sages. Every dragon scale contains the words of a wise man. You are fortunate to have met me!"

Xu Qing copied the runes on the Sacred Ruler, but the characters he engraved were extremely small. If you didn't look closely, you wouldn't be able to tell that the golden dragon was made up of tiny characters.

As the saying goes, one should not tattoo a dragon on one's shoulder, nor should one tattoo a tiger on one's back. Dragons are celestial beings with spirits, and cannot be easily carried, but those with literary flair are different.

Xu Qing carved the dragon's body backwards from Lu Xiu's heart, then climbed over her shoulders and began to carve the dragon's head at her heart.

Getting a dragon tattooed on the chest is an extremely dangerous thing in the tattoo industry. If you are lucky enough to withstand the dragon's energy, you can soar to great heights. If you can't, you will definitely break the taboo. At that time, shortening your lifespan and suppressing your life will be the least of your worries.

In other words, Lu Xiu had died once and had plenty of literary talent hidden in his heart. If it were someone else, they might not be able to subdue him!
"This dragon is the manifestation of your literary energy. If you want to fight with it, you need to recite incantations to enhance your literary energy. The stronger your literary energy, the more spirited the golden dragon will be. When it reaches its peak, the golden dragon will leap up and all evil will be warded off."

"Please, sir, convey the incantation to me."

Bare-chested, the refined-looking Lu Xiuchao bowed deeply to Xu Qing.

Looking at the other person's refined yet wild temperament, Xu Qing instantly gave up the idea of ​​getting a dragon tattoo on his body.

The art style doesn't quite match up.

"The incantation to command the dragon is in your heart, why do you ask me?"

Xu Qing laughed and said, "Your literary talent is the source of your incantation. Whether you are composing poems, burning incense and playing the zither, or debating with a group of scholars, you can ignite the dragon in your heart. This is your way, but I cannot teach you."

Lu Xiu understood it immediately. This technique was practically tailor-made for him. He was born a studious person, and although he didn't have much literary talent, it was increasing day and night.

As the ancients said, "A trickle that never stops will become a river; a flickering flame that never dies will never extinguish the blazing fire." Lu Xiu firmly believed that as long as he continued his studies diligently, the dragon within him would one day soar to the heavens and dispel all gloom.

After Xu Qing finished teaching Lu Xiu the methods of Wenxin Diaolong, he stopped caring about Lu Xiu's affairs.

He has always been a free spirit, whether he was teaching Wang Liang martial arts, guiding Tie Zhu to open his mind, studying and practicing martial arts, or giving Zhu Shizi a wisp of purple energy and a brocade pouch.

These people were just passersby he encountered along the way. He might offer some advice when the mood struck him, but he wouldn't care about their future choices or achievements.

Before leaving Ning County, Lu Xiu accompanied Xu Qing to perform a religious ceremony for the six county magistrates.

The county magistrates were not locals of Ning County. They came from all over the country and were selected through the imperial examinations to become the county magistrates.

Xu Qing did not choose the cliff burial in Ning County, but instead chose a place for earth burial, which he named Guiheju.

Guiheju is extremely quiet and secluded. Outside the cemetery are pine trees and green lawns, while inside, Xu Qing has planted various flowers such as plum blossoms, orchids, and chrysanthemums, and has created a beautiful scene by using the methods of slash-and-burn agriculture and water weeding to cultivate flowers.

People who hear that six talented scholars are buried here will not have any intention of coming to pay their respects. Funerals are considered unlucky, and people avoid them like the plague. Why would they come to pay their respects just because you are an unknown scholar?
But when a hundred flowers bloom in early winter, it presents a different scene altogether. People are curious about strange things, so let alone talented scholars, even if a butcher dies and flowers bloom on his grave in the dead of winter, people will still make up stories about it and go to see the spectacle.

Lu Xiu didn't cry when Xu Qing pricked her with needles, but when she arrived at the cemetery and saw the graves and tombstones of the six 'predecessors,' she couldn't control her emotions and knelt on the ground crying like a child.

Xu Qing didn't try to comfort him. According to the funeral process, they were short of a mourner at this time. If Lu Xiu didn't cry, would he and Xuan Yu be the ones to cry?
This is probably even more difficult than making Xuan Yu cry like a cat.

After she had finished crying, Lu Xiu borrowed pen and ink from Xu Qing and wrote a poem in mourning for her deceased husband.

Poetry:

The candle's tears flow in vain under the cold sun; the pine's roar seems to whisper tales of past kindness.

A mound of yellow earth covers all that happened, while the gentle breeze carries lingering traces across the world.

Lu Xiu lit the white paper with the poems written on it on the candle flame. Then he stood up, picked up the ink box, and walked around the cemetery, as if offering a toast, scattering the ink drops everywhere.

"Magistrate Lu, this is..."

"Ordinary people offer wine, scholars offer ink, but only ink can express my feelings."

Xu Qing nodded. He had learned a new skill, which might come in handy when he was handling the funeral of some scholar or talented person in the future.

Leaving the cemetery, at the crossroads.

Xu Qing and Lu Xiu bowed to each other in farewell.

"Where are you going, sir? Will we ever meet again?"

"Wandering far and wide, making the world our home, when the time is right, we will meet again."

Xu Qing always maintained a slight distance from those who entered the path of cultivation. People like Lu Xiu, who had experienced great ups and downs, were often either indifferent to worldly affairs or had a stubborn mind, and the other party clearly belonged to the latter.

Lu Xiu, who hates evil as much as he hates it, might do whatever he wants on this trip. As long as the other party doesn't expose him, Xu Qing will consider it an act of gratitude.

Meanwhile, Xu Qing led Xuan Yu towards Hejing, heading towards Tianjin, while Lu Xiu headed east, intending to visit her hometown one last time.

The two groups went their separate ways, but no one noticed that the various flowers, such as plum blossoms, orchids, and chrysanthemums, that Xu Qing had previously forced to bloom in the cemetery had now all turned pitch black.

Even the pure white lily of the valley and jasmine have turned into black flowers of dark jade color!
In a teahouse in Tianjin, a storyteller, well past fifty, was telling his old, worn-out tales again.

"Our Beijing-Tianjin area is full of hidden talents and extraordinary people, as numerous as the fish and shrimp in the Haihe River. Today, we'll just talk about a mysterious thing about flowers and plants. It's just hearsay, so whether you believe it or not is up to you. If you really don't believe it, then just listen for fun!"

"This happened during the Hanzhang era. The Wenchang Emperor, who was in charge of writing and literature in the celestial realm, was suddenly inspired to write. While he was writing, he didn't pay attention and, *plop!* dropped a drop of shiny black ink."

The storyteller deliberately picked up a pen and waved it back and forth.

"Speaking of the ink from the heavens, especially the ink from Lord Wenchang, it's no ordinary thing. If by chance, it falls precisely onto a blade of grass in the mortal world, then that grass will be extraordinary! It will bloom into a wondrous flower—the Scholar Flower!"

The flower is entirely black, with dew clinging to the tips of its petals. Under the sunlight, it shimmers with a faint glow, like ink flowing from a brush.

If someone happens to see a flower in bloom, their eyes will be fixed on the petals without them even looking away, and a torrent of eloquent words will flow from their mouth!

Even a starving beggar could spontaneously compose a few lines of poetry. If you were even more greedy, you could pluck a flower and swallow it, and I guarantee you'd be transformed. Your hands, which used to tremble when writing just one, two, three, four, would instantly flow like dragons and snakes, drawing with silver hooks—more effective than any medicine!

According to the elders, eating this black flower will make your knowledge grow rapidly, and you will be able to write with divine assistance, producing a wealth of brilliant articles; even just looking at this flower will inspire your thoughts to flow like a spring.

This object became a coveted treasure for scholars throughout history. But the ink dots from the Wenchang Emperor were even rarer than the milk droplets squeezed out by an eighty-year-old woman.

Where did it fall? Who saw it? Nobody knows!

The storyteller chuckled and looked around.

"It's rare to find someone who eats the 'Scholar's Flower,' but there are quite a few people who eat poisonous flowers and plants and then glare and kick their legs."

"When Master You, a salt merchant from Tianjin, heard the news, he put up a reward of gold and silver throughout the land, just to obtain a top scholar's flower."

This Master You only had one son, who was neither good at literature nor martial arts, and several tutors he hired drove him away in frustration.

It was a strange coincidence! On the fifteenth of July, after the rain stopped, three Scholar Flowers sprouted on the hill of chaotic graves in the west of the city, blooming in a riotous display, their hearts exuding the fragrance of ink.

Master You spent a fortune to have his money emptied, forcing his own child to swallow it whole.

That night, the You family mansion was brightly lit, and the young You boy grabbed his pen and wrote furiously, completely absorbed in his work. Before dawn, he had already written a hundred articles, much to the amusement of Master You. But when he examined the papers, he discovered that the characters were all jagged and unruly; upon closer inspection, they were nothing but a jumbled mess of characters, utterly nonsensical!
Even more bizarrely, the boy from the You family went mad from that day on, biting anyone he encountered, chewing on any paper he saw, and frequently muttering incoherently that he wanted to eat the Scholar's Flower.

"Later, the elders revealed the secret: the top scholar, Hua Tiao, was a boy from the You family who had no literary talent whatsoever. His forced learning only ruptured his mind. On the other hand, the poor scholar Li Silang from behind the mountain happened to glimpse a plum blossom in ink on the cliff. After returning home, Li Silang's literary inspiration flowed freely. He wrote an essay in one go and was later selected as the top scholar by the governor!"
This is precisely because literature and art connect with one's mind and nature; forcibly absorbing them only leads to madness.

Later, a top scholar wrote a passage to warn those who wanted something for nothing. This passage is still recited today: "Ink brush, ink brush, only guides the seedlings of learning; a blind ox eating a peony is no better than gnawing on the tail of a blade of grass!"

Below, a tea drinker quipped, "Where did this 'top scholar' flower come from? It's all just a bunch of charlatans. So many people worship at the Wenchang Temple, but how many real scholars have actually emerged these past few years? It's long since become a mere shell! Take Tianjin's poetry gatherings for example. Everyone writes a few doggerel poems and suddenly they're all poet saints. I remember a few years ago, the heir of the Changting Prince's Mansion wrote something about 'Flying Rain,' and he actually became the top poet of the year."

In a corner of the teahouse, a young man and a girl were drinking tea and eating snacks.

The little girl asked curiously, "Is the ink of the God of Literature really that powerful?"

The young man said dismissively, "If you pass the imperial examination with top honors, then your knowledge will naturally be useful; if you fail, then it's like a blind ox chewing on a peony—he's saying both good and bad things."

"If you're going to believe this, you might as well believe that drinking the bathwater of immortals can grant you eternal life."

"Do immortals still need to take baths?"

The little girl frowned, seemingly disliking the topic of bathing.

Have you heard the story of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl?

The young man drank tea while telling old, worn-out stories.

The little girl's eyes widened after hearing this, and she said excitedly, "The Cowherd must have drunk the Weaver Girl's bathwater, which is why he can live forever and meet the Weaver Girl every year!"

"."

The young man touched the sacred ruler in his sleeve, and the urge to tap the girl on the head seemed stronger than ever before.

(End of this chapter)