142: Chapter 232

Yu Bo felt a chill in his heart, knowing that the person before him was indeed as Old Master Ren had described—eccentric and averse to conventional formalities. He no longer hesitated and carefully opened his backpack, taking out the 'the person returning home in wind and snow' rough stone wrapped in soft cloth. He didn't hand it over immediately but held it with both hands, facets facing up, slowly lifting it to the level of the door crack to ensure the other party could see it clearly.

"A piece of... stone that everyone else says is waste." Yu Bo's voice also calmed down, carrying an objective tone of stating facts. "But when I saw it, I felt that inside, there was a story hidden. A story about the wind and snow, the night, and a person returning home. I used a pen to try and draw that story, but I know I couldn't capture the spirit it should have. So, I've come to ask Master Yang: is it possible for this stone, this story... to turn from a drawing into reality?"

As he spoke, he gently uncovered the soft cloth on the stone, revealing the grayish-white base, the pervasive cotton-like inclusions, and the abrupt black-and-white mottled cross-section, along with the simple yet vast-feeling sketch of 'the person returning home in wind and snow' outlined in dark brown eyebrow pencil.

The mountain wind blew through, making the leaves of the old plum tree rustle. Outside the courtyard gate, all was silent. Only the gurgling sound of the stream could be faintly heard from afar.

The gaze behind the door crack was firmly locked onto the raised stone, locked onto that sketch outlined with the eyebrow pencil.

Time seemed to freeze once again.

Yu Bo could feel that gaze, which had started as a flat scrutiny, gradually becoming focused, and then... fixed. That gaze seemed to turn into something substantial, stroking every inch of the cotton-like texture, every transition of color, and every line drawn by the eyebrow pencil. Especially that ugly black-and-white mottled area and the small, lonely figure in a coir raincoat walking alone on it.

No exclamations, no questions, not even any change in expression leaked from behind the door crack.

But Yu Bo could feel the surrounding air seemed to grow heavy and stagnant because of that gaze's stare. It was a state of extreme immersion, of total concentration where one forgets oneself and the world. Even the fierce Big Yellow Dog nearby seemed to sense the change in its master's aura and quieted down completely, just sitting silently, its gaze still alert but much less aggressive.

Yin Tianxue and Tang Guo also held their breath, nervously watching the wooden door that was only open a crack and the deep darkness behind it. They knew that success or failure might lie within this silent gaze.

Not knowing how much time had passed—it could have been only dozens of seconds, or it could have felt as long as several centuries.

The gaze behind the door crack finally moved slowly away from the stone and landed back on Yu Bo's face. This time, the cloudiness in that gaze seemed to have faded a bit, and the sharp, eerie light grew stronger, carrying a piercing scrutiny as if trying to see into the depths of Yu Bo's soul.

"You drew this?" The old, raspy voice sounded again, still flat, but there seemed to be a trace of an extremely weak, imperceptible... ripple?

"Yes." Yu Bo nodded.

"Why draw this?" The question was short and direct.

Yu Bo was silent for a moment, seemingly organizing his words. Finally, meeting that piercing gaze, he said slowly, "Because when I first saw the cross-section of this stone, the grayish-white made me think of a wilderness covered in heavy snow. Those cotton-like inclusions were like snow falling continuously, and that abrupt black and white in the middle... it's ugly and messy, but for some reason, I always felt that there was a road hidden inside, and a person determined to go home on a night of wind and snow. This stone is treated as waste by everyone, just like that returning person—perhaps misunderstood, perhaps lonely, but in his heart, there is a place he must return to. I feel... they are very similar."

He didn't say any profound art theories or boast about his Appraising Jade eye; he just used the simplest language to describe his most intuitive feelings and associations when he first saw the stone.

Behind the door crack, there was another silence.

Then, under the tense watch of Yu Bo, Yin Tianxue, Tang Guo, and even the Big Yellow Dog nearby—

"Creak—"

The wooden door was slowly pulled open further. It was no longer just a crack, but wide enough for a person to pass through.

A figure appeared clearly behind the door.

It was an elderly man who looked quite old. His hair was almost entirely white, sparsely clinging to his scalp and tied into a loose small bun secured with a wooden hairpin. His face was covered in deep, knife-carved wrinkles, and his skin was a bronze color with age spots from years of living in the mountains and being exposed to the elements. He wasn't tall, even somewhat hunched, wearing a set of washed-out, navy blue coarse cloth clothes with several patches, and a pair of self-woven straw sandals on his feet. He looked like nothing more than an ordinary, poor, and stubborn mountain farmer.

But, those hands of his.

Those hands hung casually at his sides now, the finger joints thick and deformed, covered in thick calluses and a crisscross of small scars; some fingernails were even incomplete. But these hands were exceptionally steady, without a trace of the trembling common in the elderly. The fingers were long (despite being deformed by labor and time), the knuckles powerful, and the veins on the back of his hands were like the gnarled roots of an old tree, containing an indescribable sense of power and... dexterity. It was as if these hands had once mastered some mystery of communicating with heaven and earth, giving life to stubborn stones.

His eyes were now fully revealed. They still looked cloudy at first glance, but upon closer inspection, the eerie light in their depths was even clearer, like two bottomless ancient wells that could reflect the human heart and swallow all vanity.

He glanced at Yu Bo, then at the stone he was holding, and then stepped aside, clearing the way to enter. His movements were somewhat stiff and slow, as if he really hadn't received visitors in a long time.

He didn't say "Please come in," nor did he offer any pleasantries.

But that gesture of stepping aside to let them in spoke volumes.

Yu Bo's heart skipped a beat, and a strong sense of joy along with a complex emotion of "finally knocking this door open" surged into his heart. He steadied his mind and bowed slightly to the old man. "Pardon the intrusion."

Then, holding the stone, he stepped forward and carefully crossed the threshold that seemed ordinary but had blocked countless visitors.

Yin Tianxue and Tang Guo exchanged a look and quickly followed. When Tang Guo passed the Big Yellow Dog, she almost closed her eyes in fear, but the dog only sniffed her scent, let out a barely audible whimper from its throat, and lay back down, no longer paying them any mind.

The three finally entered the secluded residence of the mysterious Ghost Hand Yang Shuming, who was spoken of in legends by the outside world.

The courtyard gate slowly and silently closed behind them, temporarily shutting out the clamor and curiosity of the mountain village.