Chapter 371

Chapter 371 - The Words Were as Heavy as a Thousand Jun

Zither, Chess, Calligraphy, Painting.

To grasp the Tao through the zither, to triumph over the heavens with chess!

To set the universe with words, to anchor the mountains and rivers with painting!

Jiang Hao had just finished writing when his father, Jiang, unexpectedly groped his way over.

Jiang's father noticed that each of the twenty or so characters on the xuan paper shimmered with light, and they seemed to move like swimming dragons—utterly magical!

Simultaneously, a subtle scent of ink wafted through the air, mysteriously calming his mind.

Jiang's father was astonished, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, so he rubbed them.

But when he looked again, the extraordinary vision had vanished!

Still, the characters exuded a sense of strength and depth.

Jiang's father hadn't anticipated his son's calligraphy to be so exquisite!

“Hao Hao, did you write this?”

Elated, Jiang's father reached out to pick up the paper for a closer examination.

“So, Dad, what do you think of my writing?”

Jiang Hao paused, a hint of confusion in his voice. “Dad, what's so heavy? It seems fine to me!”

Upon hearing this, Jiang's father realized that his son had misunderstood. Yet, looking at Jiang Hao, it was clear he was oblivious to the true nature of the situation. And how could Jiang's father even begin to explain such an extraordinary phenomenon?

But he was certain of one thing—his earlier sensation hadn't been a mistake. His son's calligraphy was far from ordinary.

“Oh!”

“It's nothing, really.”

“I'm quite fond of this piece. Why don't you give it to me?” he said, smoothly taking the calligraphy from Jiang Hao's hands.

”It's all yours if you like it,” Jiang Hao replied indifferently.

Jiang Hao wasn't particularly attached; after all, he could recreate the word whenever he wished. So he happily let his father have it.

But as Jiang's father examined the calligraphy now in his possession, he was struck with astonishment. The weighty presence that once clung to the characters had vanished the moment Jiang Hao touched it. Now, it appeared no different from any other piece of writing.

Such a mystical piece deserved special treatment. Jiang's father decided to have it framed and hung above his bed, where he could admire it at his leisure.

With the calligraphy in hand, he left.

Meanwhile, Jiang Hao confirmed the quality of his calligraphy, then allocated a space within the System Space to store his writing materials. It was time to invest in some painting tools.

......

Elsewhere, Jiang's father stepped out with the piece of calligraphy in tow. He may not have been well-versed in literature, but he was familiar with certain idioms and their meanings—like how powerful words could penetrate deep into wood or weigh as much as a thousand catties. He had always thought such sayings were mere folklore, but today, he became a believer.