The mountain wind slept with the pine forest, and a fine drizzle moistened the bright moon.
Minamoto Wakasei walked through the forest, spotting from afar a single cluster of candlelight resembling a spark amidst the pitch-black woods, while the rain pattered a soothing melody against the pine needles. Stepping into the mud in his expensive leather shoes, Minamoto Wakasei hurried forward and pushed open the only illuminated cabin.
The candlelight flickered. An old man in white linen robes sat beside the hearth, pristine xuan paper spread out before him as he held a brush in deep contemplation.
"You informed me that people from Headquarters were coming, yet you hide away here in a forest cabin. You certainly have a lot of leisure time." Skillfully finding a towel to dry himself, Minamoto Wakasei sat cross-legged by the hearth next to the old man. "Why the switch to painting? Not forging swords today?"
"It has nothing to do with the season, nor the method." Gazing quietly at the blank xuan paper before him, smooth and flawless as jade, the old man said in a deep voice, "Forging a sword is a spiritual practice, and painting is too. There is an old Chinese saying: no matter what state you encounter, if your heart remains pure and untethered, without ego or worldly worries, you will attain inner peace and tranquility."
The old man remained silent for a full half-hour before finally beginning to paint. The soft bristles swept heavily at times and lightly at others across the resi…
Chapter 289