Chapter 94 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Quán Lai Mặc

The empty land halfway up Vân Tiêu Peak, not far from the main Vân Các but separate enough to not be bound by the sect's strict rules, now echoes with the sound of chisels, sawing wood, and people calling each other since early morning. Diệp Sương stood in the middle of a small construction site, holding a simple drawing in hand, giving instructions to the group of workers who were erecting the main house frame.

"Put the window here," she said, pointing to a spot on the drawing, "so that the morning light always shines directly into the ink grinding area. Mr. Tám Mực once told me, the right light at the right time is as important as the ink mixing formula."

Around the construction site, the smell of freshly cut wood mixed with the smell of damp soil after a night of rain, the harsh sound of chisels resounded regularly like a unique rhythm of the construction work. Diệp Sương occasionally stopped to give instructions, bent down to pick up a piece of scrap wood, rubbed it gently between her fingers, as if she were sensing some of the soul of the place about to take shape.

*

Thanh Việt walked over, carrying a stack of new wooden planks, sweat beading on his forehead even though the weather was still chilly. "Have you named this place yet?" he asked, placing the stack of boards next to the house frame that was slowly taking shape.

Diệp Sương stopped, looked around the construction site, and thought for a moment. "Quán Lai Mặc," she said finally, her voice firm, as if that name had been in her heart for a long time. "Hybrid ink—not purely orthodox or rustic, but a blend of both. I think that's what this place needs to represent."

*

News about Diệp Sương opening a private teaching place spread quickly throughout Cửu Vân, not only in the spiritual talisman cultivating world but also in remote border areas that had suffered disadvantages because of the old system. Within just a few weeks, registration applications came in from everywhere, so much so that Âu Bội Nhi, who volunteered to organize the documents, had to build a large table just to hold the letters.

"There's an application from Thâm Vụ Forest," she said, flipping through each letter with undisguised excitement. "Both from Tiêu Sa Pass, from Diêm Cốc Village - I heard that Little Tơ insisted on being registered, even though she was younger than the minimum requirement."

*

Diệp Sương smiled when she heard that familiar name, remembering the orphan girl in Diêm Cốc Village who still hung the talisman she had drawn for her at the head of her bed. "Give her a reserve spot," she said. "When she is old enough, I will personally teach her the first strokes."

Not only sect disciples or border people, but also some people from the Vụ Ẩn clan also sent their requests to participate, something unprecedented in the history of relations between the two sides. Lãnh Vũ personally led a small group of three young men of his clan to the place, standing in front of the construction site that was gradually taking shape with eyes that were both curious and cautious.

*

"This is the first time our clan has sent someone to learn directly from humans," Lãnh Vũ said, his voice solemn. "I trust them to you, because you have proven that differences are not barriers, but something to be respected."

Diệp Sương bowed her head in thanks, then turned to the three young men of the Vụ Ẩn tribe, their eyes still a little timid in a completely strange environment. "Here," she said, her voice warm, "no one has to prove themselves worthy before being taught. You only have to be willing to learn and willing to fail many times before getting it right, as I did."

*

Nhiêu Bá Tường, the teacher who criticized Diệp Sương's talisman drawing style as a trivial heresy, suddenly asked to participate in teaching the basic theory of orthodox spiritual wear at Quán Lai Mặc, a change that surprised many people.

"I have been teaching the old way for decades," he said to Diệp Sương, his voice somewhat shy. "But now I understand, that old way is only half the story. If you allow me, I want to learn how to teach both halves completely, even if I have to start over from the position of a student."

*

Diệp Sương nodded, touched by that unexpected humility. "I'm very happy to have you with me," she replied sincerely. "This place needs people who understand the mainstream as much as people who are familiar with a different approach."

*

One afternoon, when the construction site was nearly completed, Húc Bá Nguyên suddenly stopped by, his appearance completely different from the majestic demeanor of an elder - now he was only wearing the simple clothes of an archivist, holding a stack of old books.

"I found some old records about ink-infused herbs that were used in different areas of the Cửu Vân," he said, his voice somewhat timid, placing the stack of notebooks on the table. "Thought it might be useful for me to teach students from many different lands, each with different ingredients available." Diệp Sương received the stack of books, unable to hide her surprise. “Thank you, elder,” she said, then paused and corrected herself. "Sorry, I'm used to it. Thank you, teacher."

Húc Bá Nguyên smiled slightly, the first smile she had seen on his face since the day they met. "It's okay. Perhaps, being called that way now makes me feel much more at ease than the title of elder I used to bear."

*

The construction of Quán Lai Mặc was not without obstacles. Some conservative elders on the council feared that publicly teaching a once-esoteric method would weaken the Tông Vân Các's monopoly on knowledge. Diệp Sương did not avoid these debates; she attended personally to hear every opposing argument, even when the words were harsh. She understood that major change could not rely solely on top-down authority, but required patient persuasion, even from those who might never fully agree.

But Thư Khải Dương, after many long debates, firmly sided with Diệp Sương.

"Knowledge locked in the hands of a small group, even with the intention of protecting it, is also the most fertile ground for people like Lỗ Khắc Viên to flourish," he told the council, ending all controversy. "I would rather accept the risks of openness than repeat the mistakes of secrecy."

*

The inauguration ceremony of Quán Lai Mặc took place on a clear, sunny day, exactly one year since the night Tạ Vân Khê sacrificed at Khuyết Nguyên Abyss. Diệp Sương stood in front of the rustic wooden gate, not yet elaborately painted, simply engraved with the three words of the restaurant's name in her own handwriting.

"This place," she said to the gathered crowd—sect disciples, frontiersmen, Vụ Ẩn people, and countless new faces who had traveled far to find them—"is not here to create the best spellcasters, but the best listening spellcasters. That is the greatest lesson I have learned, not from a book, but from the person who held my hand as I drew my first ink stroke on tree bark in a small village at the foot of this mountain."

*

The opening bell rang, marking the first day of Quán Lai Mặc. In the first class, more than thirty students from all backgrounds sat around on the ground with mats, each of them had a small ink pot mixed according to the basic recipe Diệp Sương had just instructed - kitchen ash, tree resin, a little alum, not complicated, not expensive, anyone can prepare it themselves.

A boy from Diêm Cốc Village, his hands still dirty from walking for several days, asked timidly. "Auntie, my drawing is so bad, is it okay?"

"It's okay," Diệp Sương replied, sitting down next to the boy, holding his hand and guiding him through the basic strokes. "I have ruined countless pieces of paper, and once made the neighbor's cat sleep for three days straight because of one small mistake in drawing. Bad drawing is not the problem. The problem is whether or not you dare to continue drawing after making a bad drawing."

*

One of the three young men from the Vụ Ẩn tribe, at first, was hesitant to hold the pen for fear of making a mistake in front of many people. Finally, he dared to draw his first stroke after seeing the boy from Diêm Cốc Village fail to draw three times in a row and still being encouraged to continue. His drawing was shaky and distorted, but when he saw Diệp Sương nodding in encouragement instead of criticism, a rare smile of relief appeared on his always alert face.

Thanh Việt stood in the corner of the classroom, observing the scene with a warm smile, occasionally stepping forward to assist students who were having difficulty intuitively sensing changes in Linh Mạch, his own forte that he was now also beginning to pass on.

At the end of the first class, Diệp Sương stood in front of Quán Lai Mặc's door, watching each student leave with unfinished drawing paper held like a treasure, even though most drawings were still clumsy. She thought of herself as a six-year-old child trembling over a pen for the first time and felt that a certain circle had quietly begun to close.

The afternoon sun gradually cast shadows through the east window of Quán Lai Mặc, just as Diệp Sương had calculated from the first day of building the house, shining streaks of warm light on each face diligently next to the inkstone, continuing a journey that had begun from a small piece of tree bark years ago, now spreading into something greater than anyone had ever dared to dream of.