The Heir

Сhаpter 208: Fruitiоn

Тhе Мillеnnium Pine Soоt Ink nоt only hаd heavу оilinеss, but mоrе imрortantlу, it also possessed а grеasу, slipреrу tеxturе аkin tо fаt. Рerhаps it was prесiselу this greasiness thаt prevеnted the gluе frоm аdhеring tо thе sоot.

What tо dо? For а mоmеnt, the еntire Ink Wоrkshоp fell silеnt. Suсh a situаtion had nevеr been enсоuntеred bеfore.

Just then, Оld Shорkeереr Li suddеnlу рickеd uр a knifе that hаd been рlaсеd оn a nеаrbу tаble and forсefully slashed his arm. Вlood immediаtely gushеd out, аnd thе flowing blоod merged with the Millennium Pine Soot Ink and the clear, transparent glue.

Old Shopkeeper Li’s action terrified everyone.

"Grandfather..."

"Old Shopkeeper..."

Old Shopkeeper Li’s movements were too swift. Zhen Niang and the others had been caught off guard, completely unprepared, and had no time to stop him.

At this moment, Old Shopkeeper Li paid them no heed, allowing the blood from his arm to gush out and thoroughly stain the soot pigment. The red blood blended into the soot pigment, entirely absorbed by it, and then completely invaded by the ink’s color, revealing only a dark red luster reminiscent of purple jade.

"Grandfather," Zhen Niang cried out anxiously, trying to stop her grandfather. But Old Shopkeeper Li pushed her aside forcefully. However, as he pushed Zhen Niang away, he himself collapsed to the ground.

His body’s vitality and spirit had already reached their limit, and blood was the essence of that vitality. Losing this blood, the old shopkeeper felt dizzy and lightheaded. He knew he could no longer hold on.

"Hurry, help my grandfather out and call a doctor to treat him," Zhen Niang said, straining to lift her grandfather, her voice almost choked with tears. Fortunately, she had been worried about her grandfather’s health all along, so early that morning, she had arranged for a doctor to be on standby in preparation for any unexpected incidents.

But earlier, she had never imagined such a situation would arise.

"No, I cannot leave now. I must stay and watch. I will not take a single step away until the ink is made. Zhen Niang, you take over the Ink Mixing," Old Shopkeeper Li declared, leaving no room for argument. Yet his voice was extremely faint, almost dissipating as soon as it was uttered. The old man was already extremely weak.

"Grandfather," Zhen Niang protested unwillingly. Meanwhile, Luo Wenqian gestured for the assistants to bring the doctor here immediately.

At this point, it was impossible to ask Old Shopkeeper Li to leave the Ink Workshop. Luo Wenqian then helped Zhen Niang support Old Shopkeeper Li as they seated him in a nearby chair.

The doctor arrived quickly, felt Old Shopkeeper Li’s pulse, and then shook his head, sighing as he turned to Zhen Niang. "Fulfill the old shopkeeper’s final wishes as much as possible."

Hearing this, Zhen Niang’s mind went blank. Was her grandfather truly unable to overcome this?

Old Shopkeeper Li naturally understood his own condition. This time, he had reached the end. He let out a deep sigh. "Zhen Niang, do not act like a child. This is the pursuit of my entire life. Hurry and mix the ink. At this moment, this breath must not be lost." When he spoke of not losing this breath, the old shopkeeper deliberately emphasized his words, yet no matter how forceful he tried to be, his voice remained weak and faint.

"There is an ancient legend that using blood as a guide can achieve the soul of ink. Zhen Niang, mix the ink. This will be the old shopkeeper’s ink soul," Luo Wenqian added hoarsely from the side.

At this moment, anyone could see that Old Shopkeeper Li’s body was already exhausted, like an oil lamp burning out. He was now clinging to his last breath, waiting to see the Ink Mixing succeed.Listening to Luo Wenqian's words, Zhen Niang's eyes were bloodshot. Ancient legends? Using blood as a catalyst? That was all superstition. Legends said the swords Ganjiang and Moye were forged with human blood as a catalyst—did ink-making have to go through such a ritual as well?

In Zhen Niang's view, this was absolutely absurd. However, she also knew that human blood was a medicinal ingredient, serving a coagulating function in ink-making.

At this moment, Zhen Niang looked at her grandfather, Old Shopkeeper Li, sitting solemnly to the side. His expression was grave, his eyes fixed intently on the ink ball. It seemed as if his entire world had shrunk to that single blood-stained ink lump.

And now, including Luo Wenqian, Cheng Dayue, and others, everyone wore serious expressions—no, not just serious, but also a kind of reverence, like devout believers.

"Ink Mixing!!" they chanted in unison, their voices echoing throughout the Ink Workshop.

"Ink Mixing." By now, Zhen Niang had already cast aside all distracting thoughts. Ink Mixing—to fulfill her grandfather's final wish.

True to its reputation as thousand-year-old soot pigment, it was indeed uncanny. The soot pigment and ink glue, which had previously refused to blend, now seemed to become like positive and negative poles under the guidance of blood. As Zhen Niang stirred, the soot pigment and glue merged seamlessly, like water and milk. Then came the second fusion, the third, the fourth, and finally the sixth.

After the sixth fusion, the entire ink ball became as clear and profound as black jade, like a naturally formed black hole in the universe. Now, there was no longer any soot pigment, no glue, no blood—it had become a piece of raw jade, dark and deep. What followed was naturally thousands of hammerings and countless refinements.

Just as the sixth fusion was completed, Old Shopkeeper Li, who had been staring at the ink ball, slowly closed his eyes.

"Grandfather!!!" Tears streamed down Zhen Niang's face.

Beside her, Cheng Dayue solemnly took the ink ball and placed it into the stone mortar. The pestle rose and fell, its rhythmic thumping echoing straight to the heart.

The old shopkeeper remained seated quietly. Though his eyes were closed, everyone believed his spirit still hovered above the Ink Workshop, watching until the final ink was perfected.

And now, from somewhere outside the workshop, a chorus of Buddhist chants began to rise. The sound was not loud, but gathered together, it resonated deeply within the soul. The rhythmic thumping of the pestle mingled with it, creating what seemed like the symphony of life.

Zhen Niang had never known ink-making could be like this. At this moment, it was no longer just a craft—it was a path, a way of life.

A piece of pinewood from deep within the mountains, burned in fierce flames, turned into wisps of blue smoke, leaving behind dust-like soot pigment. This was a process of birth. The soot pigment, through fusion with glue, finally took form—a process of absorption and assimilation. Then, after thousands of hammerings and countless pestle strikes, it revealed its restrained, profound brilliance—a process of tempering, polishing, and enduring hardship.

The sharpness of a treasured sword comes from grinding; the fragrance of plum blossoms emerges from bitter cold. Without these thousands of hammerings and pestle strikes, how could those blocks of ink come into being?

Finally, they transform into words, leaving a legacy for eternity.

And this ink bore witness to her grandfather's entire life. Learning ink-making from childhood, absorbing and integrating various ink-making knowledge, he eventually became the most outstanding Ink Master of Li Mo. Yet, an accident twenty years ago caused him to leave ink-making. Though he physically departed, his heart never left it for a moment.

Twenty years of dedicated research, twenty years of spiritual tempering, twenty years of lying low—now, he had achieved enlightenment.

Grandfather, you have lived up to this life.The rhythmic pounding continued within the ink workshop.

Outside, the chanting of Buddhist scriptures persisted.

…………

Emperor Jiajing followed the Daoist path, yet the current Imperial Consort Li was a devout Buddhist.

After Princess Ning An received the Dragon-Elephant Ink set crafted by Zhen Niang, she presented it to Imperial Consort Li. Since the ink commemorated Master Fo Hui’s construction of the Buddha Bone Pagoda, following a palace Buddhist ceremony, Imperial Consort Li bestowed the ink upon Master Fo Hui.

Now, that Dragon-Elephant Ink had become a treasured possession of Yunqi Temple.

Master Fo Hui’s visit to Huizhou this time was to commission the Li family to produce a batch of Buddhist ink. Unexpectedly, upon his arrival at the Li residence, he witnessed a wisp of blue smoke rising from the Li Family Ink Workshop. Of course, this ethereal smoke was invisible to the eye, yet perceptible to the heart—it soared straight into the heavens, unwavering and resolute.

In Buddhism, all things in the world follow different paths yet converge toward the same end. Buddhist cultivation yields success, resulting in Buddha bones. Here, the Li family’s lifelong pursuit had culminated in a wisp of blue smoke—an ink soul.

Thus, Master Fo Hui stood before the entrance of the Li Family Ink Workshop with several disciples, chanting Buddhist sutras.

At this moment, Old Madam Li’s eyes welled with tears. The Li family had sacrificed far too much for ink-making, yet their gains were equally profound—a brilliance that illuminated life itself.

Those who had departed were gone, while those who remained would continue walking this path.

As the chanting continued, the workshop workers gathered, forming a circle outside. At first, one person tentatively asked what had happened. Gradually, the news spread through the crowd, and one by one, their eyes reddened.

“Safe journey, Old Shopkeeper!!!!”

“What’s going on?” Passersby outside the Li Family Ink Workshop finally noticed the commotion and asked in confusion.

Only then did everyone learn that Eighth Master Li had passed away.

Eighth Master Li was gone!!!!!

And once again, Li Mo had achieved perfection. Like ink jade, it shimmered with the luster of purple jade. The Great Wall ink line pattern was adorned with gold leaf, complemented by endless mountain ranges. The entire Assorted Ink Collection resembled a golden dragon soaring through the deep, dark cosmos.

A dragon ascending to the heavens!!!

Just as the ink was completed, the rolling black clouds in the sky dispersed, and a ray of sunlight broke through, lingering above the Li Family Ink Workshop for a long time.

“Old man, you old man… You said that after this ink, you would never touch ink again. And indeed, you kept your word! You kept your word, old man!!!!”

In the Eighth Branch of the Li family, Wu Shi wailed and lamented in the courtyard.

………………

After seven days of mourning, Old Shopkeeper Li was laid to rest on the mountain. The wind was fierce that day. Zhen Niang stood side by side with Luo Wenqian before Old Shopkeeper Li’s grave.

“Brother Luo, our wedding will have to be postponed.” Zhen Niang crouched down, plucking two stray weeds. Beside her, a young pine tree stood resilient in the wind.

Centuries later, in generations to come, this tree too would compose a tale of ink soul.

With Grandfather’s passing, Zhen Niang would observe a year of mourning.

“It’s alright. I’ll wait for you.” Luo Wenqian replied with calm composure.

“Brother Luo, I’m leaving for Nanjing the day after tomorrow.” As she spoke these words, Zhen Niang clenched her teeth in bitterness. If not for this Ink Competition, her grandfather would not have departed so soon.

“You will win.” Luo Wenqian shed his usual laziness, his eyes smiling with unwavering conviction.Zhen Niang looked at Luo Wenqian. Once, the eldest young master of the Luo Family had been a spirited and vibrant man, but the trials of the Luo Family had ground him down like a pestle pounding grain. Now, he was calm, composed, and restrained. In this moment, Zhen Niang’s heart was at peace. She gently rested her head against Luo Wenqian’s shoulder, her tears dampening his dark blue robe.

Nanjing, I am coming again. The Ink Competition—victory is assured!!!