Chapter 33: Painstaking Efforts

After several instances of devouring, Duan Rong had gradually adapted to the state following a devouring.

It was much like driving constantly on a road with obstacles; one would gradually adapt to the complex road conditions and control the vehicle's speed to a stable state.

However, that sense of discomfort in his brain still persisted.

How should he put it? It was roughly the same feeling as having something stuck in one's throat...

Enduring the discomfort in his brain, Duan Rong walked to a shop on the side of the street.

This shop dealt in the Four Treasures of the Study. In this day and age, the poor practiced literature while the rich practiced martial arts, and martial arts were valued over literature; even the shop for the Four Treasures of the Study was a dilapidated little store, completely incomparable to the tall, grand storefronts of places like the Raw Medicine Shop.

Inside the shop, Duan Rong bought an inkstone and ink, four writing brushes, a large stack of rice paper, as well as cinnabar pigment and other items; this whole pile of things only cost him three mace of silver in total.

Rolling up this pile of items, Duan Rong headed toward the Yuanshun Escort Agency.

Duan Rong ate at the Middle Courtyard canteen every day, so many escorts already knew he was an Apprentice who had newly joined this year.

Moreover, after the rumors spread by Zhao Mu, some people had also heard a bit about his extraordinary talent.

Seeing Duan Rong enter with rice paper and brushes, many escorts teased, "What is this? Little Rong, are you planning to abandon the martial path for the literary one?"

Duan Rong chuckled and said, "This is called a new business model! I am going to support my martial arts through literature!"

"What kind of nonsense is that? What business model?"

"It's about making money!" Duan Rong was a bit impatient at being asked; he was digesting the Spirit Tool, and there was already a sense of discomfort in his brain.

Not wanting to say more, Duan Rong passed through the crowd and walked toward the dormitory courtyard.

Those escorts watched Duan Rong's back and whispered to each other.

"Is there something wrong with Little Rong's brain?"

"And his temper seems a bit volatile, too!"

"A while back, didn't one of the Miscellaneous Disciples from their cohort hang himself? It might be that some Evil Spirit is haunting their group... We had better stay away..."

Duan Rong returned to his dormitory, locked the door, placed the pile of things he was carrying onto a bench, then climbed onto his bed, lay flat, covered himself with a blanket, and fell asleep.

When in a deep sleep, it was the fastest time to devour the Spirit Tool and digest and absorb it...

In his dream, a soft, beautiful hand was holding a paintbrush, one hand lifting a sleeve, while the other hand, with the wrist suspended in the air, was dropping ink onto paper.

That back was graceful, a head of dark hair like a waterfall...

The back in the dream was so realistic that drool even flowed from the corner of Duan Rong's mouth...

Two hours later, at the hour of midnight, Duan Rong suddenly woke up and rolled off the bed.

He wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and said in surprise, "That Night Banquet of Ladies, was it actually painted by a woman? That painting is entirely from a male, voyeuristic perspective!"

"To think it came from a woman's hand, and judging by the grace of that back, she must also be an elegant, great beauty."

"I really want to get to know this great beauty; based on her brushwork style, I imagine she must also be a master of Spring Palace Paintings!"

Duan Rong only indulged in a bit of fantasy before leaving the dormitory to draw water at the well and wash his face.

Stung by the icy well water, Duan Rong immediately felt invigorated. He walked back to the dormitory, lifted the bedding on his bed, spread the rice paper on the bed board, sat on a stool, and began to grind ink and mix pigments with surprisingly skilled movements, actually starting to paint right then and there!

If one looked closely, however, there was a subtle, feminine quality hidden within his gestures and movements...

But Duan Rong paid no attention to these details at all; he was already fully focused on the rice paper before him. This would be his first work.

Duan Rong's expression was so focused, as if he were not in a cramped room painting under a flickering oil lamp, but sitting in a high, bright, and spacious study...

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

In the painting was a woman with a graceful figure, a white dress as pure as snow, lightly touched red lips, and clear, bright eyes.

Duan Rong's first painting was actually of Xiao Baijiao.

It was evident what a deep impression this woman had left in Duan Rong's heart!

After finishing, Duan Rong carefully examined his maiden work, his eyes flickering with a look of profound contemplation.

Duan Rong set this painting aside, took a fresh sheet of rice paper, and spread it out on the hard bed board in front of him.

Duan Rong buried his head and began to paint again. This time, while painting, he would occasionally glance at the maiden work to the side, frequently stopping his brush, a look of deep contemplation appearing on his face.

For this second painting, Duan Rong actually spent nearly an hour.

After finishing, he placed the two paintings side by side.

This second one was also of Xiao Baijiao, but it had undergone a profound change...

The Xiao Baijiao in the maiden work was full of love and desire, and thus had a bit of baby fat.

But the Xiao Baijiao in the second painting had a thin, gaunt face and a cold, clear gaze. This change was significant, and it actually carried a hint of an ethereal fairy.

Although one could still tell the two paintings were of the same person, the temperament and Artistic Conception were already completely different.

In fact, Duan Rong had also handled many details, though they were not easy to notice at a glance.

"The most important parts, the eyes and the distance between them, those two points absolutely cannot be moved! If they move, the likeness is lost!"

"The lips are also a very important feature."

Duan Rong summarized his experience and continued to bury his head in his painting, painstakingly overcoming the technical difficulties...

Duan Rong painted like this until noon the next day.

The midday sun shone in through the carved cloth window; the flickering flame had long since extinguished, who knew when.

The lamp oil in the oil lamp, which had not been much to begin with, had already dried up.

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

They were almost all portraits, and all of them were people Duan Rong was familiar with.

Xiao Zongting, Zhao Mu, Li Chong, Kong Bin, and Zhu Xiaoqi were all prominently featured, and he had painted several of each person.

Duan Rong looked at the two paintings in front of him; they were of the father and daughter, Xiao Zongting and Xiao Baijiao.

The steel saber in Xiao Zongting's hand glinted with a cold light, his gaze icy, his killing intent sharp!

Xiao Baijiao stood sideways, smiling while pinching a flower, her smile charming and lovely, yet the lethality of this smile was likely far greater than the cold-glinting steel saber in Xiao Zongting's hand!

A beauty's smile and a Martial Artist's saber—which one was truly the more formidable weapon?

Duan Rong looked at the two paintings before him, stretched his stiff waist, and finally revealed a smile.

"Overcoming technical difficulties is only the first step for this new business model."

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

Duan Rong rubbed his thumb against his index finger, and the image of that thin, lean scholar who wrote letters for others by the roadside suddenly flashed before his eyes.

Duan Rong tidied up the room a little, folded the finished paintings and placed them at the head of his bed, then left the dormitory, went to the Middle Courtyard canteen to eat lunch, and only then left the Escort Agency to head toward the street.

Duan Rong arrived at the street corner not far from Antique Street and saw from afar that the thin, lean scholar had already set up his stall.

However, at this moment, there were no customers in front of the thin, lean scholar's stall, and he himself seemed to be holding his brush suspended over the desk, painting something.

Duan Rong's eyes flickered, and he walked over with quick steps.

(End of this chapter)