Painstaking Dedication

After several rounds of devouring, Duan Rong had gradually adapted to the state that followed.

It was like always driving over roads littered with obstacles—eventually, one would adapt to the complicated conditions and keep the speed at a stable level.

Still, that discomfort in his head remained.

How should he put it? It was probably like having something stuck in his throat...

Enduring the discomfort in his head, Duan Rong walked to a shop by the roadside.

The shop sold the Four Treasures of the Study. In these times, scholars were poor while martial artists were rich; martial arts were valued and literature neglected. Even shops selling the Four Treasures of the Study were shabby little places, utterly incomparable to the imposing storefronts of Crude Drug Stores.

Inside, Duan Rong bought an inkstone and ink, four brushes, a large stack of Xuan Paper, Cinnabar Dye, and other items. This whole pile cost him only three qian of silver.

Carrying the bundle, Duan Rong headed for the Yuan Shun Escort Agency.

Duan Rong ate at the Middle Courtyard cafeteria every day, and many escorts already knew that he was one of this year's newly promoted apprentices.

Moreover, through Zhao Mu spreading the word, some people had also heard that he possessed exceptional talent.

When many of the escorts saw Duan Rong come in carrying Xuan Paper and brushes, they teased him, "What's this, Little Rong? Are you giving up martial arts to pursue literature?"

Duan Rong chuckled. "This is called a new business model! I'm going to use literature to support martial arts!"

"What the hell? What business model?"

"Making money!" Duan Rong was growing impatient from the questioning. He was digesting the artifact spirit, and his head already felt uncomfortable.

Duan Rong did not want to say more. He pushed through the crowd and headed for the dormitory courtyard.

The escorts watched his retreating back and whispered among themselves.

"Is something wrong with Little Rong's head?"

"And he seems a little bad-tempered too!"

"Didn't one of the Menial Disciples from his batch hang himself some time ago? Maybe some evil thing has latched onto their group... We should stay farther away..."

Duan Rong returned to his dormitory, locked the door, tossed the large bundle in his arms onto the long bench, then climbed onto the bed, flopped down, pulled the blanket over himself, and fell asleep.

When one was deeply asleep, the Devour Artifact Spirit digested and absorbed things the fastest...

In his dream, a soft, beautiful hand held a paintbrush. One hand lifted a sleeve while the other hovered above the paper, its wrist suspended in the air as it laid down ink.

That back was graceful and alluring, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall...

The figure in the dream was so real that drool even slipped from the corner of Duan Rong's mouth...

Two hours later, at midnight, Duan Rong suddenly woke and rolled out of bed.

Wiping the drool from his mouth, he said in astonishment, "That Ladies' Night Banquet Painting was actually painted by a woman? That painting was completely from the perspective of the male gaze!"

"To think it came from a woman's hand—and judging by the grace of that silhouette, she was even an elegant great beauty."

"I really want to meet that beauty. Judging by her brushwork, she must be an Exquisite Erotic Hands too!"

Duan Rong only indulged in the fantasy for a moment before leaving the dormitory. He drew water at the well and washed his face.

The icy well water jolted him awake at once. Duan Rong returned to his dormitory, pulled aside the bedding on the bed, spread Xuan Paper over the wooden bedboard, and sat on the stool. With surprisingly practiced movements, he began grinding ink, mixing pigments, and directly started painting!

But on closer inspection, there was a faint, barely noticeable feminine grace in the movements of his hands...

Duan Rong paid no attention to such details. He was already wholly focused on the Xuan Paper before him. This would be his first work.

Duan Rong's expression was so intent that it was as though he were not painting in a cramped little room under the swaying light of an oil lamp, but seated in a lofty, bright study...

Half an hour later, Duan Rong's first painting was complete.

The painting depicted a woman with a graceful figure, a white dress whiter than snow, lightly tinted red lips, and clear, bright eyes.

Duan Rong's first painting was of Xiao Baijiao.

It was clear how deeply this woman had impressed herself upon Duan Rong's heart!

After finishing, Duan Rong carefully examined his debut work, deep contemplation flickering in his eyes.

Duan Rong set the painting aside, took another sheet of Xuan Paper, and spread it before him on the hard bedboard.

Duan Rong lowered his head and began painting again. This time, as he painted, he occasionally glanced at his debut work beside him. He often paused his brush, a heavy look of contemplation appearing on his face.

This second painting took Duan Rong nearly an hour.

When he finished, he placed the two paintings side by side.

The second one was still Xiao Baijiao, but it had undergone profound changes...

The Xiao Baijiao in the debut work was both lovely and alluring, and thus had a little baby fat.

But the Xiao Baijiao in the second painting had a leaner face and a cool, distant gaze. With this change, she unexpectedly gained a trace of the air of an immortal maiden beyond the mortal world.

Though the two paintings could still be recognized as the same person, their temperament and artistic conception were already completely different.

In truth, Duan Rong had also made many adjustments to the finer details, but they were not easily noticed at a glance.

"The most important things are the eyes and the spacing between them. Those absolutely cannot be changed! Change them, and the likeness is lost!"

"The lips are also a very important feature."

Summing up his experience, Duan Rong continued painting with his head lowered, painstakingly tackling one technical hurdle after another...

Duan Rong painted straight through until noon the next day.

The midday sunlight filtered through the patterned cloth window. The flickering flame had gone out at some unknown time.

The little oil that had been in the lamp had long since dried up.

And in Duan Rong's originally cramped single room, paintings were piled across the bed and the floor.

Almost all were portraits, and all of them were people Duan Rong knew.

Xiao Zongting, Zhao Mu, Li Chong, Kong Bin, and Zhu Xiaoqi were all among them, with several paintings of each person.

Duan Rong looked at the two paintings before him. They depicted the father and daughter, Xiao Zongting and Xiao Baijiao.

The steel saber in Xiao Zongting's hand gleamed coldly, his eyes icy and his killing intent biting!

Xiao Baijiao stood sideways, pinching a flower as she smiled. Her charming smile was radiant, yet its lethal power likely far surpassed the cold-glinting steel saber in Xiao Zongting's hand!

A beauty's smile, a martial artist's blade—which was the more formidable weapon?

Looking at the two paintings before him, Duan Rong stretched his stiff waist and finally smiled.

"Overcoming the technical hurdles is only the first step of this new business model."

"Xiao Baijiao is already nearly perfect. Xiao Zongting still seems to be lacking something."

Duan Rong rubbed his thumb against his index finger, and the Thin Scholar who wrote letters for people by the roadside suddenly flashed through his mind.

Duan Rong briefly tidied his room, stacked the finished paintings by his bedside, then left the dormitory. After eating lunch at the Middle Courtyard cafeteria, he left the escort agency and headed into the streets.

Duan Rong arrived at a street corner not far from Antique Street and spotted the Thin Scholar setting up his stall from a distance.

But at that moment, there were no customers before the Thin Scholar's stall. He himself seemed to be holding a brush poised over the writing desk, painting something.

Duan Rong's eyes shifted, and he hurried over.