Four middle-aged people, two men and two women, sat cross-legged on the carpet in the center of the great hall.
The snow-white, flawless carpet was thick and soft. They sat at its four corners, their expressions solemn and calm.
Yet at the center of the carpet stood an easel, with a scroll laid across it.
The scroll was two meters long. Its shaft gave off a deep, secluded sheen and exuded an ancient, weathered air.
Chu Zhiyuan's gaze fell upon the scroll, and he could not help frowning.
Even Super Sensation could not see through it.
An invisible force shrouded the scroll, as though it were enveloped in a thick fog, indistinct and illusory, seeming real yet unreal.
It seemed to be a scroll, yet not a scroll. A vast outline could vaguely be made out.
That outline seemed to be a gateway.
A sudden sense of familiarity rose within him, as though he had seen this power before.
He closed his eyes and searched through his mind.
With a photographic memory, as long as he had seen something once, he would feel a sense of familiarity upon seeing it again.
So he must have encountered this feeling before. Where had it appeared?
He needed to search through his immense memories, even those of his previous life.
A moment later, he opened his eyes and stared thoughtfully at the scroll.
He had only closed and opened his eyes in an instant. Zhuang Juyue noticed nothing unusual and said, "Imperial Son-in-Law, this is the painting. I'll have to trouble you."
Chu Zhiyuan said, "When I am comprehending it, I need peace and quiet, without interruption."
"Everyone has to leave?"
"Yes."
"...All right." Zhuang Juyue pondered briefly, looked at the four middle-aged people, and finally nodded slowly.
The four men and women