Formless

Wenren Sheng thought of this and stopped beating around the bush. He said directly, "Senior, the idea you mentioned before—cultivating the Formless Divine Skill, simulating everything, and returning all arts to one—may not be impossible to achieve."

"Enough. Stop trying to fool me with empty words. I'm not listening, I'm not listening." The Old Man ignored him completely, merely rolling back and forth across the stone table.

Teacher Qin chimed in, "Teacher, Little Wen really is extraordinary. Your wish may truly have a chance of being fulfilled through him."

"No beard on his face, no reliability in his work. Not even thirty, barely twenty, no idea what he's doing... Wait, when did you grow a beard?" Halfway through rolling, the Old Man suddenly stopped and stared at Wenren Sheng in astonishment.

Two neat little mustaches had suddenly appeared above Wenren Sheng's lips, both handsome and proud.

His entire aura had also changed, shifting from youthful and handsome to mature and refined.

"Senior, although my physical age is eighteen every year, my mental age passed the age of knowing one's destiny long ago. I know very well what I am doing," Wenren Sheng said solemnly.

He was not lying. Counting both lives, he was nearly sixty.

Teacher Qin, however, clutched his head at the side, feeling an increasingly severe headache—one old man and one young man, both fooling around here.

He really should not have brought Wenren Sheng here.

Yet, to his utter surprise, his teacher—the Old Man on the stone table—fell silent.

After a while, the Old Man finally said, "I never expected your Transformation Art to deceive even my senses, and your Rhetoric Skill to fool my perception as well. It seems my Formless Divine Skill really might be realized by you..."

"Then, Senior, please accept my bow." Wenren