I Have a Brush That Writes the Heavenly Dao

Beneath a building in Chang’an, a weary group returned and settled into the break room. They each grabbed a cup of coffee and began writing their reports.

“How should we explain the incident? Yuan Qilan forcibly joined the operation during the capture, and his inability to control his powers caused the situation to escalate?”

“Add that he insisted on joining despite our strong objections, and repeatedly ignored orders during the operation, resulting in injuries. Add this too: he ignored not only our instructions, but even his own sister’s.”

“Shh, she’s here.”

As they took notes, a young woman who had arrived later sat down in the distance and sighed. “Please handle the report. I have to write a ten-thousand-word self-criticism.”

“Huh? What happened?”

“I couldn’t keep him in line. I’m responsible for seventy percent of what happened in this operation. My brother gets twenty percent, and his master gets ten.”

The more she spoke, the angrier she became. Without realizing it, she tightened her grip. Suddenly, there was a sharp crack: the fountain pen snapped in her hand, spraying ink everywhere and instantly staining everyone and everything black.

“Big Sis, calm down. Your little brother is still young. Who around here hasn’t made mistakes growing up?” someone beside her said soothingly. He raised a hand, and a dim purple glow enveloped all the ink on the table. It slowly lifted, gathered into a small ball, and dropped into the trash can.

She took a deep breath and pulled out a spare pen. “Forget it. Compared to me, what he did isn’t that bad.”

“Right, right. He only nearly demolished two buildings, forced the emergency evacuation of three thousand people, altered six thousand people’s memories, and had a street’s water supply inspected and repaired, causing an estimated twelve million in economic losses. That’s all.”