All of us looked at John Chou, who began to laugh.
"That's just how it is. No matter how much you try to comprehend the realm of thought, in the end, you can create more new things. But if there's no essence, you can't expand or extend it any further."
I responded with a hum, as if I already felt something. In my mind, water is something that feels cold and smooth. I dabbed a drop of water on my fingertip, swallowed a mouthful, closed my eyes, and could feel the droplet trembling slightly in my hand, about to slip from my finger—ticklish and cool.
The power of coexistence had already appeared within my body. I began to gather this power at my fingertip, falling into deep thought. My senses expanded infinitely—I could hear the nearby voices of Cao Cao and Fanhua, even people's conversations and breathing.
"The method is correct, but unfortunately the way you're doing it is wrong."
John Chou's words suddenly interrupted me. The droplet slipped from my hand, startling me. I stared at John Chou, a bit dissatisfied.
"What I want you to sense now is this drop of water—not the people outside. You need to figure out what you actually want to do right now."
I gave a quick "oh." Beside me, Isabelle Frost shot John Chou a disdainful look.
"Miss Yi, do you have a simpler way?"
I asked, because I saw Isabelle Frost wanting to say something but staying silent. Sure enough, she spoke up.
"Is it really necessary to use such a complicated method? Listen, you don't need to use too much power later. Just inject your newly awakened instinctive power into your fingertip, and the energy will slowly flow into the droplet."
I blinked. Isabelle Frost's method made even less sense to me. It sounded simple, but controlling power with such precision was beyond me.
"In this world, there are those who can and those who can't. After all, you are you, and Rachel Lan is Rachel Lan."
John Chou spoke up. Isabelle Frost turned and walked away. I didn't know why she was always at odds with John Chou, especially since even Logan said it was rare for the siblings to come out together.
"Wait, Miss Yi."
I called out. Isabelle Frost stopped in her tracks, and I hurried over.
"Can you teach me how to control my power? I'll try both your method and John Chou's. I just want to learn quickly, is that okay?"
In the end, Isabelle Frost nodded in agreement. Yet even by lunchtime, I hadn't succeeded. I just couldn't manage that level of precise control.
"In this regard, Qingyuan's skill far surpasses ours."
At that moment, Vincent Swallow spoke. Old Eccentric nodded as well, and John Chou laughed.
"That kid was able to do it only because he spent five years alone, day and night, in the Forest of Desire. My sister did the same, training to control her powers for a thousand years by the Bridge of Remorse."
My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open.
"A thousand years, that's..."
Suddenly, Isabelle Frost kicked John Chou out of nowhere, her eyes flashing with anger. John Chou could only smile helplessly.
"I don't expect you to reach Ethan Zhang's level, and my sister's is even more impossible. Precise control of power—within the Ghost Path, no one can match it. Not even the Infernal Judge."
"That powerful?"
John Chou nodded.
"Do you really think geniuses are just born? There are plenty of talented people, but how many can train themselves day after day for ten years straight? So Rachel Lan, don't think this Living Script power is that simple."
I hummed in response. Afterward, we left the hotel together and found a high-end restaurant. John Chou and Isabelle Frost only drank, skipping the food, while I ate and drank with Vincent Swallow and Old Eccentric.
"Miss Roxie, after lunch, Vincent Swallow and I need to start tracking them down. I can't rest easy leaving Tammy Blade alone, and Oddball Moe will take a while to arrive. Ma Yongjie called last night."
I hummed in response, and Old Eccentric continued speaking.
"Each written character represents something different, but the general method is the same. The Living Script of water is the easiest; the hardest is iron, or perhaps something else."
I stared in awe at Old Eccentric. He raised a hand, and suddenly, despite his short stature, he seemed quite imposing. He crouched and drew an iron character in the air, as if carving it out.
I watched as the words turned the color of iron. Instantly, the iron parts of the stool wrapped in cotton creaked loudly, then twisted and bent as if warped by Old Oddball's will. After a moment, he wrote another character, and the chair returned to its original shape, the scattered cotton fluff gathering back in.
Even Yixue Han and Yin Choujian, standing nearby, looked on with admiration.
"In the world of arts, some can achieve this through certain techniques, but you don't need them. This power is truly mysterious—it actually evolved from the Word Spirit arts."
Old Oddball nodded and began to explain simply.
Old Oddball’s ancestor, a man named Wang, was obsessed with books. He read widely, loved writing, and enjoyed discussing calligraphy with others. Everyone in the area knew about this. Truthfully, his calligraphy was not very good, but he was generous and sociable, so people praised his writing out of courtesy.
That Wang ancestor knew deep down he lacked talent. He started practicing calligraphy young, mostly imitating famous masters, but his own style became a strange blend—neither here nor there.
Still, this ancestor who loved writing never idled. He kept practicing, rewriting each character until satisfied before moving to the next, striving to understand the meaning behind each word. He would compare with real objects, writing by feel. Though he never produced acclaimed calligraphy, he discovered something uncanny: the words he wrote to represent objects could move, and, crucially, he could manipulate the corresponding item nearby with his will.
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By then, the ancestor was already elderly. He had spent his life with pen and ink. In the year before his death, a ghost who loved collecting strange stories came to visit.
I laughed when I heard this.
"That ghost really does have a lot of free time."
Old Oddball said with a laugh.
"You know that ghost, too. Everyone here should recognize it. Let's talk about it later."
The ghost that came seemed to have discovered a new world. Not only did it help the Wang ancestor extend his life, it also helped him test the limits of this power. The ancestor shared all his insights with the ghost, who recorded everything.
For a year or two, the two of them studied writing together. Eventually, the ancestor developed a complete training method for empowering words, and the ghost left happily after the ancestor passed away.
The Wang family kept passing it down, generation after generation, until it reached Old Oddball—the eleventh generation. Before his time, the family wasn't called the Word Spirit Wang clan; only in his generation did they gain fame and earn the name.
Although their power is said to be in words, it is deeply tied to Word Spirit. Even words spoken aloud can hold power.
"Because spoken words themselves have power, strictly speaking, this ability is Word Spirit. But handwritten words are even stronger, since they can be infused with force."
I nodded, and Old Oddball continued.
Although the Wang family was never wealthy, they were always generous and kind. They had many friends and connections. From birth, Old Oddball was forced by his father to practice writing, but he disliked the tediousness of it.
So Old Oddball would always slack off, and his writing never improved much, no matter how long he practiced. Yet his father never blamed him; instead, he praised him for learning more and more characters. This made Old Oddball feel strange. Finally, at eighteen, his father passed everything of the Wang family to him.
Old Oddball immediately became fascinated with this power, turning into a calligraphy fanatic. He was naturally gifted, and the words he wrote grew stronger and stronger.
"That's how our Wang family finally made a name for itself in the world of arts. Unfortunately, I truly can't teach others. Sigh."
At this, Tunjiu stood up, planning to leave, but I stopped them.
"Why don't I go with you? I'm worried about that sister too—after all, she once helped Qingyuan."
I glanced at Yin Choujian. He smiled.
"My sister and I will go together too."
Yixue Han muttered unexpectedly.
"I think you just can't let go of that special ghost."
We all burst out laughing. Afterward, I rented an off-road vehicle and we hit the road. Taotie was heading west, so I drove onto the highway. But Tunjiu looked a bit gloomy.
"What's wrong, Master Tunjiu?"
"I don't know if that guy will ever come back."
Tunjiu muttered, but Old Oddball was displeased.
"What nonsense. It's just that her consciousness is temporarily possessed by a ghost. She'll be fine. She ate that ghost, after all."
I stared in shock, never knowing a person could eat a ghost.
"Yeah, it was her desperate move. We saw what happened that night from afar. She really did swallow the vengeful ghost who was her enemy, that's why she ended up like that—human and ghost as one."
"There's really such a thing?"
I looked excitedly at the road ahead, but a sense of worry crept in. The Taotie I saw that night—her eyes had changed completely.