The sight before him also brought a look of surprise to Jiang Yang's face.
This turn of events was something Jiang Yang had never anticipated. His name seemed to have come alive, actually leaping out all fresh and lively on its own.
After attaining the Purple Mansion, he truly had become very different.
Seeing the bitter expression on the black-robed Underworld Constable's face, Jiang Yang reined in his thoughts and nodded lightly.
"Very well."
With that, he took the brush, and Fan Qiu hurriedly held the scroll out before him with both hands.
After years of cultivation, Jiang Yang wielded the brush like a sword, his wrist poised above the paper as he wrote. The ink wound and flowed, the brush dancing like dragons and serpents, and soon his name lay upon the scroll.
More wondrous still, as the final stroke was completed, the inked characters on the scroll transformed into gold. The two large golden characters radiated a faint glow, and Fan Qiu's steadily raised hands suddenly sank, nearly sending him stumbling.
Xie Caoxiu swiftly caught his arm, then turned to Jiang Yang and offered a compliment.
"Iron Painting and Silver Hooks, strokes bearing the force of a thousand tons. Your Highness has magnificent brushwork."
Fan Qiu struggled to close the scroll, feeling his limbs go weak. Had his companion not lent him a hand, he would surely have made a spectacle of himself.
The pair were ghosts who had been dead for hundreds, even thousands of years, Underworld Constables who had obtained divine status. They could travel between yin and yang unimpeded and exchange easy banter even with Great True Persons at the Purple Mansion peak. No ordinary figure could stand above them.
Yet today, two characters had nearly crushed them at the waist. Both Fan Qiu and