Chapter Twenty-Three: Blossoming-Into the World of Strange Tales(Chen Dynasty of the Southern Dynasties)

“Heaven and earth possess righteousness, which flows and takes myriad forms. Below, it becomes rivers and mountains; above, it is the sun and stars. In man, it is called vastness, surging forth to fill the boundless sky. The imperial path should be clear and tranquil, embracing harmony and exhaling clarity into the court. When times are dire, integrity appears, each instance worthy of the painter’s brush…”

This stirring ode to righteousness, the ‘Song of Uprightness,’ remained vivid in Chen Jianchen’s memory. Its original intent was to express an unwavering moral resolve, yet he never imagined that after traversing time and space, there would truly be such ‘righteous energy’—and of great use.

Chen Jianchen picked up the Evil-Repelling Brush, examining it closely. He tapped its shaft gently, listening to the clear, resonant sound; it was unlike ordinary ironwood. Drawing it nearer, he scrutinized the bristles, conducting a thorough study, until finally he discovered something extraordinary.

White.

On the plump, rounded tip of the brush, at the edge, there were two bristles of pure white, untouched by ink, shining brightly like two glimmering needles, immaculate and crystalline.

In truth, the entire Evil-Repelling Brush was crafted beautifully and smoothly. The shaft was elegant, and the bristles—whose animal origin was unknown—perfectly embodied the four virtues of sharpness, order, roundness, and strength. It could truly be said, “It pierces the eye like an arrow, its tip sharp as an awl.”

Now, with the sudden appearance of two translucent, jade-like bristles, a streak of brilliance was added, making the brush come alive, as if imbued with a spirit.

Chen Jianchen remembered clearly how, upon first arriving in this world, he had examined the Evil-Repelling Brush dozens of times, turning it over again and again, yet never found any white bristles; in other words, the whitening of the bristles must have happened afterwards.

With this discovery, his interest grew even stronger, and he played with the brush, unable to put it down, hoping it would reveal yet more wonders.

But reality remained unchanged; after fiddling for most of an hour, the brush was still a brush, and he was still himself.

Ah…

The moment was not yet ripe.

He set the brush aside, noticing Yingning standing upright nearby, as if wishing to speak. He said, “Yingning, you don’t need to be afraid. I won’t harm you.”

Yingning knelt in obeisance, tears streaming down like a spring, dripping onto the floor.

Chen Jianchen smiled and helped her to her feet.

After a moment’s hesitation, Yingning took up paper and pen, writing, “Yingning boldly begs the young master to act and uphold justice for this little fox.”

Chen Jianchen was startled, but soon understood. “You want me to deal with the wolf demon?”

“Exactly. If the young master avenges Yingning’s great enmity, from this day forward, Yingning will repay you with utmost gratitude, even to the point of life and death. Should I break this vow, may heaven and earth forsake me!”

The little white fox’s resolve was unwavering.

Chen Jianchen chuckled, “Yingning, even if you hadn’t asked, I would not let the wolf demon go. Its deeds are vile, terrorizing the countryside—I cannot sit idly by.”

With righteousness in his brush, it was as if he possessed magic; his back straightened with newfound confidence. Moreover, he guessed that the secret of the Evil-Repelling Brush could only be awakened in real battle—namely, subduing demons and unleashing righteousness. Otherwise, no matter how many words were written, they would be mere waste.

The wolf demon was the perfect subject for experimentation.

Yingning rejoiced at his words, bowing repeatedly.

The pair then began to plot, soon devising a feasible plan: “luring the wolf into the house, trapping it in the jar.” The greatest advantage was that neither Chen Jianchen nor Yingning needed to venture into danger themselves—a precaution born from Chen Jianchen’s incomplete understanding of the brush’s powers.

Once their strategy was agreed upon, they each retired to rest.

Lying in bed, Chen Jianchen was still excited, hands behind his head, taking a long time to fall asleep.

That night, he dreamed he wandered across the Five Sacred Mountains and the four seas, then soared straight into the clouds, gazing down upon the earth, witnessing its majestic rivers and flourishing people. Filled with vigor, he took up the Evil-Repelling Brush and composed a poem—

In the dream, he stood proudly in the heavens, using the blue sky as his desk and white clouds as his paper. As he wrote, inspiration flowed like a spring, and the tip of the brush radiated dazzling light, blossoming into a multicolored flower…

“A wondrous brush births flowers, but I am no Li Bai.”

The next morning, Chen Jianchen awoke in good spirits, smiling wryly at himself.

After washing and breakfast, he returned at once to his study to begin work. Yingning had sensibly retreated to the top of a tall bookshelf, peering out from afar.

Chen Jianchen spread out sheets of white paper and took up the Evil-Repelling Brush to write—what he wrote was the ‘Song of Uprightness’:

“…This energy is expansive, stern and enduring through the ages. When it pierces sun and moon, life and death become trivial. Earth relies on it to stand, heaven relies on it to reign…”

He poured his whole soul into the writing, his heart guiding his hand, ink flowing from his thoughts, completing the poem in one sweep. The final line, “Reading beneath the eaves, the ancient road illuminates the face,” concluded the ‘Song of Uprightness,’ spread across ten sheets of paper.

“Wonderful!”

After finishing, Chen Jianchen struck the desk and sighed. The ten sheets were filled with lively calligraphy, the ink bold and the characters shining with spirit—his finest work since beginning his practice. Looking at himself, he found he was drenched in sweat, his undershirt soaked, as if he had just finished a bout of martial arts.

Writing, indeed, was no easy task—it demanded effort and spirit!

Glancing back, he found the little white fox curled into a ball atop the bookshelf, trembling, her head buried deep, too afraid to lift it.

Yingning, at first, had noticed nothing amiss, but as she watched, her fear grew. Each time she tried to grasp the meaning of the verses, her head ached as if pierced by needles; realizing something was wrong, she quickly bowed her head, not daring to look further.

Yingning’s response only strengthened Chen Jianchen’s confidence.

“Master, what is the name of this poem?”

Only after Chen Jianchen had tidied and stored the papers did Yingning dare to descend.

“‘Song of Uprightness,’ composed by a venerable teacher I admire.”

Yingning asked no more, thinking that using the ‘Song of Uprightness’ to bear righteousness was truly apt.

Chen Jianchen left the study, intending to go out, but Mo Sanniang stopped him, saying, “Liuxian, where are you headed?”

“I just want to take a walk outside.”

Mo Sanniang replied, “There are wolves outside now; it’s dangerous. You’d best stay in. I heard this morning that Asan, that rascal from the neighboring village, was bitten to death by a wolf on the road—his chest torn open, heart and liver eaten, it’s terrifying. They say Zhang, the local official, has reported it to Jiangzhou, but the authorities replied that wolf attacks should be handled by local hunters, a minor matter, not worth involving the magistrates… I think those officials just want money and travel expenses.”

Asan had been bitten to death—could it have been the work of the wolf demon?

Chen Jianchen’s heart tightened, but his resolve to slay the wolf demon only grew. “I’ll j