Chapter 27: The Painting of Young Master Chen

“But your sudden visit like this is ultimately inappropriate,” Mu Wanqing shook her head.

Bing Muer shrugged indifferently. “If the esteemed expert you speak of truly dislikes our abrupt arrival, then I shall apologize to him myself.”

“Little Princess, you mustn’t!” Her words shocked even Elder Hua, who exclaimed, “How can someone of your noble status kneel and apologize so casually?”

“Elder Hua, there is no need to be so concerned with these worldly conventions,” Bing Muer gazed steadily up the mountain, speaking slowly. “If she truly is a reclusive master, what harm is there in my kneeling before her?”

Elder Hua could only sigh inwardly.

The Duke of Southern Domain had two daughters: the eldest was born of his official wife, while the little princess was the child of a concubine. The Duke once favored the little princess’s mother exclusively, which gave rise to resentment in the official wife, who eventually schemed to kill the concubine and then did everything to win back the Duke’s favor.

In the end, the little princess was completely outcast; throughout the city, she was regarded as a harbinger of misfortune.

It was a story as old as time—a typical palace intrigue.

The little princess endured humiliation and hardship; her tragic circumstances made her stronger and more understanding of the bigger picture.

In contrast, the eldest princess, spoiled by favor, was arrogant and ruthless.

Elder Hua had been a guard in the little princess’s mother’s service. After her death, he pitied the little princess, staying loyally by her side, and was gradually won over by her talent and wisdom. Now, he served her with unwavering devotion.

“Spiritual energy—how can there be such dense spiritual energy?” As they neared Chen Changsheng’s residence, Bing Muer, Elder Hua, and Nangong Ba were all struck with astonishment by the thick spiritual energy in the air, greedily breathing it in.

“Elder Hua, is there some kind of extraordinary spirit gathering formation here?” Bing Muer asked as she inhaled deeply.

“There’s no spirit gathering formation; it’s simply a place with exceptional feng shui,” Elder Hua replied, shaking his head.

“To be able to choose such a remarkable location, it seems this person is indeed extraordinary,” Bing Muer sighed.

Just extraordinary?

Mu Wanqing, Baili Song, and Huangfu Meng were stunned, exchanging glances.

Nangong Ba remained dismissive. “Perhaps it was simply a stroke of luck. Finding such a place here doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

He still didn’t believe what Huangfu Meng had told him—it all sounded too fantastical.

A stroke of luck?

Baili Song shot Nangong Ba a glare, as if to ask whether he was out of his mind.

…

Chen Changsheng was painting outside his house, working on an image of a rooster.

The rooster was depicted on rice paper with majestic bearing, lifelike and vivid, as if it might step out from the paper at any moment.

Chen Changsheng was confident in his artistic skill; at the very least, it had been acknowledged by the system.

Chen Die’er watched her father paint with rapt attention, her small finger occasionally pointing at the painting. “Dad, this rooster’s comb is so big—can you eat the comb?”

“Of course you can.”

“Why is the rooster’s comb edible?”

It seemed Die’er’s mind was always filled with endless questions.

At only nine years old, she was clearly brimming with curiosity about the world.

Chen Changsheng paused, his breath catching slightly. “Die’er…”

Die’er quickly straightened her face and clasped her hands ceremoniously. “Dad, I’m here!”

“Your habit of digging to the root of everything hasn’t changed.”

“Oh, Dad, Die’er will change!”

Die’er earnestly replied.

But not a moment passed before she pointed to the rooster’s feathers. “Dad, why are the rooster’s feathers red?”

“That’s determined by its genes.”

“What are genes?”

Chen Changsheng was about to answer when a voice called out from nearby. “Young Master Chen, I must apologize for disturbing you again!”

Chen Changsheng looked up and saw a group of six approaching.

Among them were Mu Wanqing, Baili Song, and Huangfu Meng.

The other two men and one woman were unfamiliar faces.

But that woman—she was breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that Chen Changsheng’s breath caught for a moment.

“It’s nothing; I was just painting to pass the time,” Chen Changsheng said, waving dismissively.

Bing Muer, Elder Hua, and Nangong Ba were somewhat taken aback.

He was the reclusive master?

Did reclusive masters look like this?

Mu Wanqing and Huangfu Meng had both insisted Chen Changsheng was a reclusive expert; they had expected an elder, yet found only a young man of about twenty.

“Hmph!” Nangong Ba snorted quietly, casting a glare at Huangfu Meng, as if to say: See? Your lies have been exposed.

Bing Muer and Elder Hua were also full of doubts—a young man of twenty as a reclusive master… Was this some kind of joke?

“Young Master Chen, last time you helped us greatly. We wished to bring you a generous gift in gratitude, but unfortunately, everything from the Skycloud Sect is too mundane; we feared you would look down on it,” Mu Wanqing blushed, producing a packet of seeds. “Since you enjoy a secluded life and like growing flowers and plants, we brought you this packet of seeds.”

A packet of seeds as a token of thanks?

That was certainly unique!

Chen Changsheng frowned slightly.

Seeing this, Baili Song thought he was displeased and hurried to explain, “Young Master Chen, these seeds have been treasured for over a thousand years in the Skycloud Sect. We don’t even know what they are. Perhaps you’d like to plant them—you might be pleasantly surprised.”

“Seeds that have been preserved for a thousand years?” Chen Changsheng became interested, smiling mildly. “Miss Mu, Elder Baili, you’re too considerate.”

At this, Mu Wanqing and Huangfu Meng breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank heavens, Young Master Chen didn’t mind.

Nangong Ba, meanwhile, still refused to believe Chen Changsheng was any sort of reclusive master. No fool would believe such a young man could be one.

Bored, he looked at Chen Changsheng’s painting.

On the painting, a large rooster appeared so vivid it seemed ready to leap off the paper.

Young Master Chen’s skill was impressive.

Suddenly, he felt the rooster on the painting move, its wings fluttering, golden light dazzling.

A storm of terror swept through Nangong Ba’s heart.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo~”

The rooster suddenly crowed.

But the crow transformed into a vast, resonant sound of the Dao, surging toward Nangong Ba and hammering his soul.

“Ah!” Nangong Ba screamed, blood spraying from his mouth, feeling as though his soul was nearly shattered.

“City Lord!” Huangfu Meng cried, rushing to shield Nangong Ba.

Everyone else stared in astonishment at Nangong Ba.

He’d suddenly coughed up blood—what had happened?

“That painting…”

Nangong Ba was utterly wretched and terrified, his soul trembling violently. He dared not look at the painting again.

“What’s wrong with my painting?” Chen Changsheng was utterly baffled.