Quinn Shepherd and Deaf each painted a portrait—one set aside his feelings, pouring emotion into the canvas; the other set aside mortal sentiment, using only the heart of a true god to depict another deity.
Quinn painted God-Queen Langwo—yet not quite Langwo, but rather the lover in his heart.
Deaf, meanwhile, sought his own transformation in Painting Dao, using art to carry his Dao, his divinity.
His aura grew ever more ethereal, divine nature thickening around him. The brush in his hand no longer seemed a mere tool, but an artifact of creation itself. Under his strokes, a new goddess was coming into being.
After a long while, Quinn was the first to set down his brush, having finished his painting.
Deaf was still using fine, delicate strokes to create a living being. His brush glowed with the gentle light of the Dao of Creation, and the woman in his painting began to take shape—flesh, icy skin, jade bones—all emerging beneath his pen.
The goddess’s divinity leapt forth from the painting.
Her beauty was flawless, her bearing supremely elegant and otherworldly. Her features were naturally perfect, and even her clothes were the finest celestial garments.
Her skin seemed to gather all the spiritual essence of heaven and earth; her jade fingers were slender, their prints as intricate as Dao itself. She seemed a spirit born of every good thing—yet it was Deaf who created her.
When Deaf finished the final stroke, everyone present felt a faint, elusive aura slowly spilling from the painting—a postnatal Dao beginning to sprout. It didn’t arise from the painting itself, but from Deaf’s brush.
He gave the girl in the painting divinity, form, soul, and life.
Quinn watched, moved; he opened his vertical eye and saw Deaf’s Dao spreading like ethereal smoke, swiftly imprinting itself on heaven and void.
This is not reform, nor changing Dao, but letting the world gain a new law, a new Dao.
Deaf appeared utterly tranquil; as his final stroke landed, Langwo in the painting gained life and soul, and Deaf found his own Dao.
Granny Sue and Apothecary came over to look at the two paintings, both repeatedly praising them.
As he set down his brush, tears streamed down Deaf’s cheeks, but he smiled, his heart surging with peaceful yet immense joy.
He felt his Dao; as one of the weakest among the nine Oldridge elders, he never cared much for cultivation methods or divine arts.
If not for Quinn’s urging and the Oldridge elders’ supervision, Deaf would never have tried to abolish his Divine Bridge to open Celestial River Treasury, nor cared to improve his cultivation.
Now, he could feel his yuanqi and spirit flowing along a mysterious route—his own naturally formed cultivation method.
Cultivation methods and divine arts are all manifestations of Dao. Before, he cultivated others’ methods, seeking his own Dao, so he never cared much for training.
Now, he had found his own Dao—one might even say he had pioneered it. With Dao, cultivation methods and divine arts all fell into place, operating naturally.
Art is born of heaven itself; a master’s hand reveals it by chance.
So it is with Painting Dao.
It is just that mysterious, that wondrous, just that inconceivable.
Granny Sue and Apothecary came over, peering at both paintings, each praising them repeatedly.
Granny Sue beamed, nudged Apothecary, and whispered, “Do you understand it?”
Apothecary grinned and whispered back, “Not a clue.”
“Me neither,” Granny Sue said, still smiling, lowering her voice.
God-Queen Langwo also stepped forward, carefully examining both paintings. Deaf’s painting showed a woman who seemed another her—elegant, refined, and pure, revealing her inner heart, untouched by worldly dust.
The woman in the painting was tranquil and remote, as beautiful as Langwo herself. She could move in the painting, living in another world, with her own thoughts, her own mind—even her own cultivation and divine arts.
The two of her gazed at each other across the boundary.
God-Queen Langwo marveled, saying, "This Painting Dao may not be creation, but it surpasses creation. I can’t tell if it’s me in the painting or her in the painting."
Deaf said, "Quinn’s painting isn’t bad either."
Langwo looked at Quinn’s painting. He couldn’t capture her god-nature, and the painted her differed from the real her. Compared to Deaf’s skill, Quinn’s fell short.
Langwo gazed at the person in the painting. The Langwo there was a serene maiden, standing atop a serpent’s head, holding a flower to her lips, shy and smiling.
"The person in Saint Baby’s painting looks like me, yet isn’t me. I suppose Saint Baby has poured his feelings into it."
Langwo’s eyes sparkled. She smiled and asked, "May I have these two paintings?"
Deaf nodded. "Take them, miss."
Quinn nodded as well.
Deaf pulled him over, and the old man and the boy painted together again. As Deaf painted, he taught Quinn the insights he’d gained from pioneering Painting Dao.