The remarkable variety of materials used in creating inscriptions, from the every day to the extremely uncommon, is impressive. These elements could be mixed in an infinite number of ways. When directed by the delicate touch of an inscription master, they would unfold into a captivating fabric of mysterious and profound symbols.
Within this vast tapestry lay a foundation of 3600 intricate lines and 4900 foundational symbols. These myriad lines and symbols could be woven together in many permutations, crafting ever-evolving inscription techniques that held the power to reshape reality.
Among these foundational lines existed a singular strand known as the 'shock' inscription, just one of the 3600 varieties at the core of this intricate art.
Sam possessed an intimate familiarity with the 'shock' foundation line. In truth, he was aware that these foundational lines numbered not merely 3600 but a staggering 6000. This revelation nearly doubled the count known to the inscription masters of the Starlight Spill Continent.
However, like the enigmatic Starlight Worm Silk, Sam harboured doubts about the 'shock' line's equivalence between the Starlight Spill Continent and the Realm of the Gods.
He could only pray that the differences weren't too significant. Sam stretched out his right hand and tapped into his inner power, deftly tracing brilliant lines in the air.
The Elder Senior Sister and Hen Portia watched as a complex diagram developed in front of them as these lines shimmered with a silent, radiant beauty.
Each day, Sam had dedicated himself to the relentless practice of these inscriptions. Gradually, the memories of the soul fragments fused harmoniously with his own, culminating in proficiency that could be described in just two words: remarkably skilled.
Sam inquired, "Is this the 'shock' symbol?"
Hen Portia gazed in awe, and the Elder Senior Sister, noting her companion's astonishment, discerned the unmistakable truth - Sam was not casually doodling with his fingertips but had impeccably drawn the 'shock' line, a feat nothing short of astounding. Could this seemingly ordinary young man truly comprehend the intricacies of inscription techniques? It defied belief!
Within Hen Portia's heart, admiration and surprise mingled. While there were 3600 foundation lines, it was arduous for a novice to commit them all to memory.
Sam's knowledge of this particular line was no surprise. What astonished her, however, was the precision with which he executed the 'shock' symbol. The energy distribution was perfect, a testament to tireless practice.
Suppressing her inner turmoil, she replied, "Indeed, it is..."
"The 'Shock' pattern symbolizes the aura of a god of slaughter and is typically inscribed on weapons," Sam explained. When a martial artist directs their energy into a weapon, it usually increases its effectiveness to some extent. This improvement, however, has limitations. When a martial artist channels energy into a weapon with the 'Shock' line inscribed, the power surges through the pattern, causing quick vibrations that considerably boost the weapon's penetrating strength, sharpening it to an unmatched degree."
Hen Portia had anticipated such an explanation from Sam.
If he could flawlessly reproduce the 'shock' pattern, he must undoubtedly understand its underlying principles. Anything less would be inconceivable.
Hen Portia's competitive spirit flared, and she continued her inquiry, "Then, dear fellow student, are you acquainted with the 'flag' symbol's drawing technique and its associated principles?"
She had transitioned from the relatively straightforward foundation lines to more complex foundational symbols, yet she underestimated Sam's profound understanding of this intricate art.
Sam crafted the 'flag' symbol in the air with calm precision. Although foundation symbols were inherently more complex, his fingertips gilded effortlessly, weaving the intricate symbol before their eyes.
Hen Portia, now thoroughly impressed, marvelled at the display. With its doubled complexity and intricate energy pathways, the' flag' symbol should have posed a considerable challenge. Yet, Sam had executed it with apparent ease, surpassing even her expectations.
In their conversation, the Elder Senior Sister, bewildered and astounded, remained a bystander to this exchange between two transcriptionists who seemed to speak a language of their own—a language of profound understanding and limitless possibilities.
To Hen Portia, Sam's brilliance was undeniable. His knowledge spanned not only the 3600 lines and 4900 symbols but extended beyond, encompassing over 8000 variations.
This knowledge flowed effortlessly from him, each word revealing depths of wisdom and insight that left her in awe.
The Elder Senior Sister, on the other hand, found herself in a state of utter disbelief.
There was only one realization in her mind—she had made a colossal mistake today.
Her footsteps wanted to stomp the ground, a reaction to the revelation that this seemingly ordinary country boy was, in fact, a prodigious talent in inscription arts.
Gradually, Hen Portia's demeanour transformed from one of curiosity to one of deep respect.
Their exchange had proven enlightening, benefiting her immensely. Sam was not merely a novice but a rare talent, a once-in-a-century genius.
However, beneath his extraordinary abilities lay an even greater enigma—a shadowy mentor with boundless knowledge and authority in inscriptions.
This mysterious teacher held implications not only for Hen Portia but also for the entire Hen Family. Her interest in Sam grew as a fellow student and as a key to unravelling these mysteries.
With these thoughts in mind, Hen Portia cordially proposed, "Dear fellow student, it's almost time for my zither lesson. I must take my leave. Our conversation today has been truly enlightening. If you find it agreeable, perhaps after the zither lesson, we could share a meal at the Great Clarity Pavilion and further explore the intricacies of inscription techniques together?"
Hen Portia's sweet and persuasive voice carried an irresistible charm, complemented by her sincere expression and ethereal beauty. It was a proposition that few could refuse.
However, Sam declined, stating, "I regret to inform you that I have pressing matters to attend to today, and I must return without delay."
Hen Portia's expression wavered, a tinge of disappointment colouring her flushed cheeks.
She had extended an invitation without considering the possibility of rejection.
For someone accustomed to refusing countless invitations, she now tasted the bitter sting of rejection herself.
Despite her aristocratic background, she remained a 15-year-old girl deep within, and the experience was unfamiliar and unsettling.
The Elder Senior Sister, witnessing Sam's refusal, felt her mind short-circuit. She nearly rushed forward to chastise him.
In her mind, there was only one thought—how could he, how could anyone, reject the incomparable Hen Portia?
Unbelievable! Was there a man on this earth who could resist her charm? Was Sam indeed a man?