How could a Yuan family like this fail to inspire awe? Who would dare defy a man like Yuan Jingxu?
And the fact that the Yuan family had not interrupted Yuan Qinghua's birthday celebration was itself a declaration of this power.
The front hall was packed with guests, cups clinked as they drank, and the finest dancers and singers in this realm competed in beauty, bringing a vast stretch of peace and prosperity to life.
The Yuan estate was immense. The front hall stood a hundred zhang from the rear courtyard, and the garden-style mansion seemed to wind into secluded depths.
In the most remote southwest corner of the estate stood a courtyard that was completely out of keeping with the layout of the rest of the mansion.
If the Yuan estate were a finely painted scroll, this courtyard would be a huge blot of ink upon it.
Yet when the courtyard was built, no one dared object. Even Yuan Jingxu had barely voiced a word before Yuan Qinghua, who rarely lost his temper, drove him out with a scolding.
Later, he sent people all the way to Guang'an to inspect a grand courtyard there, then had it copied exactly, down to the last detail.
Only after the news spread did everyone learn that the courtyard had once been the Immortal Sage's residence in Guang'an, where the Old Patriarch had lived alongside the Immortal Sage for many years.
At that moment, in the west wing of that inkblot of a courtyard, Yuan Qinghua stood before a painting, staring blankly at it.
It was a portrait. The person in it wore a loose blue robe, its sleeves fluttering in the wind, with a touch of carefree, wild abandon. The brushwork was immature, and although the likeness was strong, it lacked spirit.