The cloud boat cleaved through layers of drifting clouds, continuing its swift journey north.
With the sudden addition of a cultivator from another sect aboard the Spirit Boat, the disciples on deck had lowered their voices a little.
Zhong Ali sat beside Song Yan, a painting unfurled before her.
Brush in hand, she alternately knitted and relaxed her brows. At times, she seemed about to put brush to paper, but never quite did.
It was strange. Although the Luofu Sect could not compare with Taiyi or Jun Mountain, it was still a first-rate major sect.
Yet Zhong Ali, a Golden Core cultivator, was traveling entirely alone.
Song Yan could not help admiring her for that.
He had stopped studying the Sword Debate chapter for the moment and looked over Zhong Ali's painting with interest.
Only a little over half the outlines had been sketched.
The roiling sea of clouds was depicted with striking movement, the ink shaded just right, conveying the vast momentum of a mountain storm about to break.
Above the clouds, an immense, elongated, hazy shape rose upward, seemingly about to fly into their heights.
Its winding form resembled a great serpent, but it was no more than a rough, indistinct outline.
"What are you painting, Miss Zhong?"
Song Yan asked, "Why do you hesitate to put your brush down?"
At his words, Zhong Ali actually looked a little embarrassed.
She scratched her temple with one end of the brush and chuckled. "You must find this laughable, Fellow Daoist Song. Actually... I'm trying to paint a dragon." "Unfortunately, skin and bones are easy to paint, but spirit is not. Without having seen a True Dragon myself, I have only imagination. The moment I put brush to paper, I lose confidence. Whatever I paint ends up mere conjecture, lacking