Master Clearheart observed the many young disciples, paying special attention to the five new arrivals. They had all finished painting, each with a different level of focus accompanying their movements.

'What a good and honest boy. Unfortunately, reality will never be so gentle.' She thought, looking at Han Ting's canvas. A woman with brown hair and gentle eyes, resembling the painting boy, was accompanied by a dignified older gentleman. It was a delightful little scene indeed.

When her eyes roved over both Shen Junan's and the young Mistress' paintings, the corner of her mouth twitched minutely.

She couldn't see anything on them as both of them hid their painting behind a grey screen of spirit though. It was a simple obscuring technique that was impossible for her to breach without them noticing her intrusion, and she wasn't keen on any direct conflict with them.

Spying what the youngest of the quintet painted gave her pause, eyes widening. He didn't obscure it like Shen Junan or the young Mistress. He also didn't paint a picturesque scene like Han Ting. Instead, there was only a single face on his canvas, if it could even be called such.

It was grotesque.

She couldn't make out anyone specific, as there was nothing but sharp lines and the vague impressions of a face, even if it was hard to look at. It was almost as if the Initiate just painted multiple faces over each other, and let the pen take total control without adding anything of his personality or ideas. It was quite fascinating if she was honest with herself, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she hadn't ever seen someone use the brushes like this.

'An enigma to be sure.' She thought, a smile gracing her lips.

Eventually she moved on from her observation, though, as even if Ren's painting was quite a unique appearance, it was also nothing groundbreaking.

Coming back from her thoughts, turning her head, to seeing Zhi Mu's painting, almost made her sigh.

'What a cheeky little brat.' She thought, looking over the boy's canvas, and clicking her tongue.

Somehow noticing her gaze, Zhi Mu turned around and gave her one of the most supremely confident expressions she had ever seen. It was almost leering, challenging her to say something to him. It made her want to force it off his face, but she knew, even if Zhi Mu did something almost inexcusable, he would get off scot-free, not to speak of simply taunting her.

'Unfortunately, I couldn't beat him up even if I disregarded all of this.' She clenched her hands, hidden inside her sleeves. Zhi Mu's expression turning even more mocking. 'The future of our sect, an unparalleled genius, even able to rival those one complete realm above him. He has not yet seen twelve winters.

What a monster.'

On Zhi Mu's canvas, only a single line was written: "Where lies your own heart?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ren was quite befuddled with the result of his painting. And looking at the different disciples' results didn't exactly inspire confidence into his own creation, nor its meaning.

Multiple disciples had people smiling amiably at the observer. Some of those who painted them were even crying as they looked it over. He could see Han Ting being one of them.

There were those, like Sister Gao, who painted some kind of village, people only silhouettes. Most of those had an expression of longing, but also fierce determination. Ren could understand them the most, and he thought that he surely would have drawn his own town, or maybe the river, or the orphanage, yet he got this scramble of lines and colours.

Trying to gauge how he might compare to the other prodigies, Ren used his senses to look at them, excluding Han Ting, who he already had seen. But upon taking a closer look at the other three, Ren could only smile wryly. Both Shen Junan and Xin Jing had completely erased any evidence of having painted in the first place, a white canvas staring them in the face, while Zhi Mu wrote down a question and flared his spirit in the direction of Master Clearheart.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

She didn't seem too happy with the older boy, but Ren disregarded this and focussed back on the matter at hand.

His own painting appeared altogether dissatisfying compared to everyone else's, not counting the three he just looked at, making Ren crinkle his nose. Trying to gleam something from it, Ren started concentrating on it, his eyes fixating on the overlapping strokes and trying to remember the process, what he thought about while directing the brush, every little detail.

He followed the biggest outlines, tracing them in his mind. It felt like a soft pat on the head, gentle eyes watching him read in a quiet corner, a soft voice praising him with encouraging words.

Following this outline, he recognized even more people he came into contact with, the impressions they left on him. A golden haired girl and the trust she put into him, a jovial boy crying in distress and his best friend.

Diving deeper, more recent relationships made themselves known to him. There was a cheerful woman, a girl who put far too much pressure on herself, a youth with flowery speech, one who loved to socialize.

There was a girl playing chess, a wry smile on her face, and surprisingly, even an arrogant boy, looking down on him in denial.

The more Ren looked into his painting and the more he deciphered, the more he realized that the painting brush did not truly show what would pass as his heart, but rather the connections that are important to the one who painted.

Perhaps showing 'the heart' would be too much to ask from a simple exercise, but seeing the reactions of the gathered disciples, Ren could gather that many were not prepared to be reminded of what and who they felt was significant to them.

He thought back to what Darkhaven taught him in one of their sessions.

"Cultivation is about transcending one's own limitations, young Ren, and yet many of those calling themselves Cultivators are merely suppressing their feelings and desires, never confronting them, or even overcoming them.

We, who seek to travel this path, can never lie to ourselves, but we must not let irrationality rule our hands in this grand endeavour, lest we become nought but beasts driven by instinct."

It didn't exactly apply to this situation, and he didn't think that Darkhaven was talking about just attachment, but Ren thought that it did have some similarities.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lesson soon came to an end, somewhat anticlimactically, Ren thought, seeing Zhi Mu and Master Clearheart come to blows would surely have changed the mood, and not in an insignificant manner at that.

Nothing of note happened in the clearing next to the heartwood forest, and saying their goodbyes, they continued their way ahead to Xin Jing's place, Ren drifting off into his own thoughts. His canvas was secured in Zhi Mu's spacial bag.

He was only much later broken out of his musings by Xin Jing holding out a bowl full of some kind of meat soup to him, an impatient expression on her face.

The two of them sat in front of a fire that she had started, but as the other three wanted to meditate, or train, there were only the two of them left beside the fire.

"What's up, Ren? You didn't talk at all this last stretch. Something on your mind?" She sounded curious, but a bit of concern also shone through her speech. Ren appreciated it, even if she was being rather blunt about it.

Ren took the bowl out of her hands, contemplating how to best put his considerations. When he didn't say anything for a minute, and the silence stretched between them, Xin Jing about to continue, he started talking. "Sister Jing, those brushes didn't really show our heart, right?"

She looked caught off guard by his question, but instead of denying it simply nodded. "What about it?"

This in turn made Ren almost stumble, 'what about it?', what kind of disregard was this? Trying to get his point across, Ren looked her in the eyes instead of simply staring at some place in the sky, like he did before.

"But, the paintings only show the attachments of the painter. This doesn't help anyone reach a higher comprehension, some deeper insight, or better control of their spirit. It doesn't show anything that you don't already know!" Ren said, getting slightly heated.

Xin Jing didn't even have to think about her response for more than a few seconds, calmly smiling, as she thought she recognized what bothered him. "Those brushes are called Karma-tracer. A fancy name, I know, I know, but as the name implies they should trace your karma and reveal all that ties you down, every attachment and caveat of your being." She waved her hand dismissively. "Of course, they can't do something ridiculous like that, or our sect would have long been dominating the continent, but as long as the other disciples don't know that, they put enormous trust into the brushes. Even if what is shown in the painting is nothing more than a reflection of what they already knew."

Xin Jing stood up from her place next to Ren, dusted herself off, and was about to leave him be with his thoughts, only to leave him with one more piece of advice. Her voice was flat. "Oh, and additionally it gives their instructor a really great hook into their psyche."