Pursuit of the Truth 239 First Appearance of Picture Creation

He drew one stroke after another. Each time Su Ming lifted his right hand and drew with his index finger, the space before him would disappear slowly layer by layer like he was tearing off layers of membranes.
He did not know how much time had passed by, but Su Ming’s actions in copying the sword stroke were gradually slowing down.
Time continued passing by as he continued drawing. Su Ming did not know how many strokes he had drawn and just how many times he had copied the trajectory of the sword.
He might not know the specifics, but he knew that each time he drew, while each stroke seemed the same, but in truth, they were all different. If he drew it 1,000 times, then those 1,000 strokes were different from each other. If he drew them 10,000 times, then those 10,000 strokes would be different from each other!
Yet he still had not found the grief that spread out when Si Ma Xin swung the sword, it was as if he could not fuse that emotion with his stroke.
It only made Su Ming want to draw the principles contained within the sword stroke even more, hence he paid even more attention to the various changes in that sword slash. Yet there seemed to be no rules hidden within it, making it difficult for him to completely understand it, which would allow him to draw the sword slash with his right index finger.
He knew that it was difficult to completely understand the power behind the sword slash. That was why he did not think about trying to understand it in one go. Instead, each time he copied the sword slash, he would find something different within the attack and copy it to his new drawing.
Gradually, as time passed by, with each time Su Ming’s right hand fell down, he came to slowly sense the presence of the invisible and innumerable membranes that were disappearing before him layer by layer as the scarlet sword fell.
As the membranes disappeared, Su Ming’s body also came closer to the incoming scarlet sword.
Su Ming remained calm, but his empty eyes made him seem as if he had lost his soul. Perhaps more accurately speaking, it was as if his soul had gone to his right index finger. With each stroke, his soul would seep into the world to feel the strange changes contained within the sword as it fell down in the gigantic world.
Those strokes made him seem like he was drawing out the lines for a picture. The invisible membranes continued disappearing as Su Ming moved forward slowly. Every single time he took a step, he would draw many lines in the air, causing more membranes to disappear.
Yet he knew clearly that with his current abilities, he could only copy out the form of the sword slash, but not its soul. Even if he used his own soul to draw it, he could not feel its sadness, that was why his strokes had no life.
"Sadness…" Su Ming mumbled.
As his right hand drew time and again before him, he found his sadness and the sadness within Dark Mountain. Yet, there was something missing from that sadness, causing it to be unable to fuse with the stroke.
‘It’s lacking an aged feeling…’
When Su Ming came to the side of the falling scarlet sword and observed the sword in close proximity with just a few feet between them, he suddenly jolted and a hint of understanding appeared within him.
‘Among the people I met, there’s only one person who has this old and aged feeling…’
Su Ming lowered his head and his right eye was gradually stained in red until it eventually turned into the blood moon of Dark Mountain.
"Wherefore doth thou cry, o blue sky..?" he mumbled and closed his eyes.
He lifted his right index finger instinctively and drew once again. This time, he drew a diagonal stroke. If that stroke was drawn on paper, perhaps it would only form a horizontal line. However, this simple line would make people feel that it contained the power to change the world once they saw it.
But he was drawing on air. The final invisible membrane between Su Ming and the scarlet sword tore apart with a ripping sound that no ear could hear when Su Ming drew that line.
The instant it disappeared, Su Ming lifted his right hand once again and drew a stroke in the direction of the scarlet sword, in the air where all the invisible membranes between them no longer existed.
That stroke was also a horizontal line, yet while that horizontal line seemed like it was only one simple stroke, it was in truth the culmination of all the thousands upon thousands of strokes taken when Su Ming copied the trajectory of the sword.
At the instant that stroke was completed, the numerous horizontal lines he drew previously appeared by his side. No one could see the strokes that seemed like mere scribbles, only Su Ming could because he was the one who’d drawn them.
At that moment, these innumerable horizontal lines gathered before Su Ming and fell on his final stroke as if they were overlapping each other. These thousands upon thousands of strokes fell on top each other and eventually turned into the most powerful horizontal line Su Ming could draw after copying the trajectory of the sword in the air.
The moment this stroke was finished, rumbling sounds seemed to echo in the world, and the world before him shattered like a mirror. Once a layer of something seemed to have been swept away from the world, uproars reverberated through the air and a shrill whistling sound descended from the sky.
The world had returned to normal. Time seemed to have stopped a moment before Su Ming tried to understand that sword slash, and when the world returned to normal, he found himself returning to that instant.
It was as if everything that had happened was just an illusion.
A dazed look appeared on Su Ming’s face. His right hand was lifted and remained in the same position of when he’d drawn his final stroke in the strange world.
The shrill whistling sound before him was from Si Ma Xin’s scarlet sword. That sword was now tumbling backwards, and with a boom, it could no longer maintain its sword form. It turned into a large amount of red light and returned to the Seven Colored Mountain behind Si Ma Xin, who was looking at him with an aghast look in his eyes and an expression full of disbelief.
Si Ma Xin’s breathing quickened. All the people who were watching looked towards Su Ming, and their gazes were filled with shock along with horror.
Just now, they saw the scarlet sword slicing down towards Su Ming. Su Ming originally did not react to it, but when the sword was less than 100 feet away from him, he suddenly lifted his head, and with his right hand, he waved at the incoming scarlet sword gently.
Yet that wave made the space between him and the scarlet sword twist. Before any of them saw it clearly, rumbling sounds echoed in the air, and the scarlet sword let out a shrill whistling sound before it tumbled backwards because it could not fight against that wave, and eventually could not even maintain its sword form!
To top it off, that was the God of Berserkers Transformation Si Ma Xin had casted!
After a short moment of silence, uproars rose in the air like a constant buzzing. There was surprise and bewilderment as the people looked at Su Ming, as if they had just renewed their understanding of this unfamiliar face before them.
Si Ma Xin breathed rapidly. He might not have been injured, but during that instant when Su Ming waved his hand lightly and made his scarlet sword tumble backwards before shattering, he was stunned.
He understood the might of his God of Berserkers Transformation Art, and it was precisely because of this understanding that his heart pounded and raced against his chest while he looked at Su Ming with a face filled with disbelief.
‘Impossible! He’s not in the Bone Sacrifice Realm, how could he so easily dispel that one style I mastered..? And… And the method he used to counter it just now…’
Si Ma Xin could not believe what he saw just now, and the movements Su Ming made when he waved away the sword were also incredibly familiar to him.
During that instant, there was a subtle hint of grief that made him feel shaken.
A brilliant glint appeared in the eyes of the red robed left preceptor standing on the fourth summit. With a grave expression on his face, he took a step forward and took a careful look at Su Ming, who was standing in the battlefield in the distance.
"Creation…" the left preceptor mumbled and kept his gaze fixed on Su Ming for a long time.
Some of the older generation who rarely left their mountains on the Great Frozen Plains of Freezing Sky Clan turned their attention towards Su Ming. His final wave during the battle just now was enough to make them feel shaken.
The long haired woman sitting on the platform on the eighth summit lifted her right hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. When she lowered her hand, she drew a line before her gently. The arc she drew bore some similarities to the horizontal line Su Ming had drawn.
The similarity was not in the appearance of the lines, but the essence within those strokes. In fact, when she drew her arc, the air before her also twisted, as if she had just imitated Su Ming’s actions with ease. However, the sorrow and aged feeling was missing from her stroke.
‘What an interesting stroke… A disciple of the ninth summit, hmm..?’
The woman smiled faintly.
The dazed look on Su Ming’s face disappeared and the calm look returned. However, his heart remained in a state of shock. Yet when his mind cleared, a sharp pain spread through his entire body, causing him to turn pale and he coughed out blood before staggering a few steps back.
This pain did not come from a specific spot within him, but from his entire body. Every single inch of his flesh and bone, even his veins and organs were crying out in pain.
This pain came too suddenly, as if Su Ming had performed an action that far surpassed what his body could endure just now, and it had caused his body and his organs to show signs of weakening.
When Su Ming retreated, Han Mountain Bell had already captured the rod insect. Once it held the creature within it, Han Mountain Bell shrank and returned to the size of a small bell before it flew back to Su Ming and landed in his hand.
Buzzing sounds appeared from within the Bell, causing it to tremble in Su Ming’s hand, as if the captured rod insect was struggling furiously inside.
After all, Su Ming was still not in total control over Han Mountain Bell. He might have been able to take it away, but in terms of using its power, as of now he could only use the bell’s tolls and turn them into a sound wave and also use the Bell to seal things just like before.
Not too far away, when Si Ma Xin saw Su Ming coughing up blood, his expression relaxed slightly and was no longer as shocked as it was before. If Su Ming could really dispel his first Style in the God of Berserkers Transformation without suffering any form of injury, then Si Ma Xin would immediately turn away and return to the first summit to isolate himself and avoid Su Ming.
Yet when he saw Su Ming coughing up blood, Si Ma Xin’s confidence returned.
He stared at Su Ming and took a deep breath. A serious expression of an intensity never seen before appeared on his face. He lifted his right hand slowly and pushed his palm up towards the sky.
"If you can fight against my final attack, then from now onwards, whenever I see you, I will immediately kneel down towards you!" Si Ma Xin said resolutely and made a slight hooking motion in the air with his fingers.
In the span of that breath, from the various tribes on the Land of South Morning, all the Berserker Seeds Si Ma Xin had planted in the people just like he’d done to Fang Mu shuddered violently and fell unconscious in different locations.
"Great Art of Heartless Berserker Seed!"
Si Ma Xin’s hair floated without wind and a dim light appeared in his eyes. He spread his arms outward, causing him to look extraordinarily enchanting in midair!