Chapter 179: Paper-Thin Bride

Deep night, Li Banfeng sat beside Ma Wu, and Ma Wu lay with the Cloak Moth Lady.

Despite Ma Wu praising the Cloak Moth Lady endlessly, Li Banfeng still felt the urge to flee.

"Brother, don't worry—this Cloak Moth Lady is different from the one we met before. She's gentle."

As he spoke, Ma Wu gently stroked the Cloak Moth Lady's body; she trembled, her face filled with fear: "Young Master, you can do whatever you want tomorrow, but today I truly can't take it anymore."

Ma Wu shot her a slightly annoyed glance; she pouted: "I really can't take it anymore."

Li Banfeng looked at the Cloak Moth Lady: "If you can't take it, then leave."

The Cloak Moth Lady blushed, lowering her head: "I don't want to leave."

Ma Wu's talent was truly unreasonable—this Cloak Moth Lady could defeat a hundred Ma Wus, yet because she couldn't bring herself to fight, she let him bully her.

Ma Wu sighed: "It's not all about talent—it's fate. If it had been the previous Cloak Moth Lady, I'd be dead by now."

Hearing Ma Wu keep mentioning the other, the Cloak Moth Lady grew displeased: "Young Master, you always bring up the one before. Wasn't her name Linglong?"

Linglong?

Does the Cloak Moth Lady have a name?

Li Banfeng stared at the stout Cloak Moth Lady for a moment longer.

But "Linglong" doesn't suit her at all!

"Her name is Linglong?" Ma Wu was intrigued. "What's your name?"

The Cloak Moth Lady blushed deeply: "I'm Yanzi."

Her name is Yanzi…

Li Banfeng took a deep breath, gazing at the sky, imagining how this enormous swallow might fly through it.

Ma Wu caressed the Cloak Moth Lady's cheek: "Yanzi, this is fate—you were destined to fly into my heart."

Li Banfeng shivered.

How huge must his heart be?

Ma Wu, still talking sweetly, probed for information: "You mentioned Linglong just now—did you know her?"

Yanzi frowned: "Why do you keep bringing her up?"

"I'm just curious."

"Of course I knew her—we were from the same Dao gate, trained together. Linglong just moved here this year. I came here to find her, but I've searched for days and haven't found her."

Of course you won't find her—she went to Suishenju for a visit and will never come out again.

But Li Banfeng wasn't interested in Linglong—he cared about the Dao gate: "Do you still have Dao gates?"

"Yes," Yanzi answered seriously. "We were all ascetics."

Li Banfeng grew even more curious: "You mean you and Linglong—or all Cloak Moth Ladies?"

Yanzi replied: "All Cloak Moth Ladies were ascetics. Only ascetics can become Cloak Moth Ladies."

Ascetics became Cloak Moth Ladies?

Li Banfeng realized the Cloak Moth Lady was more complex than he thought.

Niangzi had once said Cloak Moth Ladies were second-class anomalies: their bodies grew in the New Land, but their souls were not born there. Li Banfeng hadn't fully understood then, but now, hearing Yanzi's account, he began to grasp it.

At the mention of ascetics, Ma Wu frowned—ascetics were the natural enemies of pleasure-seekers.

Yanzi quickly explained: "Young Master, I know you dislike this Dao gate—I dislike it too."

Ma Wu asked: "If you dislike it, why did you choose asceticism?"

Yanzi fell silent for a long while; the tenderness on her face darkened: "I'd planned to never speak of these things again."

Ma Wu pinched her chubby cheek: "Not even with me?"

"You asked, so I can't refuse. When I was young and foolish, I met a heartless man—I gave him everything he wanted, and he took it all, then abandoned me after draining me dry."

I thought life was destined to be bitter—until someone persuaded me, and I fancied I had seen through the mortal world, so I joined the ascetic Daoist sect.

"As an ascetic, you can't love, can't speak of affection—even if you marry again, it's just two people tolerating each other."

"You suffer your whole life, cultivate your whole life, and there's no undoing it. When an ascetic woman dies, if she accepts it, she crosses the bridge to reincarnation; if she resists, she goes to the New Land."

"In the New Land, there are Cloak Moths born without souls—ascetic women can possess them and continue their cultivation."

Ma Wu kissed her tenderly: "After becoming a Cloak Moth Lady, do you still suffer?"

Li Banfeng snorted: "Look how fat she is—she hasn't suffered much."

Yanzi blushed: "I've died once already—what's left to hold onto? Why should I still suffer? As a Cloak Moth Lady, I must enjoy myself fully—eat as much as I want, play as wildly as I want, find men as freely as I want, bear children as joyfully as I want."

Ma Wu sighed in admiration: "Brilliant—I love your honesty!"

Li Banfeng said: "Why don't I go somewhere else? Let you two enjoy yourselves here."

Ma Wu was generous: "We're brothers—you stay right here and I'll still enjoy myself!"

Yanzi shook her head vigorously: "Not today, Young Master—let me rest tonight, and we'll do it tomorrow."

Night was deep; Yanzi returned to the woods and fell asleep.

Li Banfeng said: "I'm going to Lüshuicheng. Will you come back with me?"

Ma Wu shook his head: "I want to cultivate longer in the New Land. Tomorrow I'll send Xiao Gen back to Lanyang Village to bring some people to tidy up our plots—we need somewhere to live."

Ma Wu shook his head and said, "I want to cultivate in this new land for a while longer. Tomorrow I'll send Xiao Gen back to Lan Yang Village to bring some people to tidy up both our plots—we need at least a place to live."

Ma Wu gazed at the sleeping Yanzi in the distance, smiled, and said nothing.

Of course he could—he was even better off than Li Banfeng.

This was his territory; as long as he spilled blood, the land god would protect him.

Even without spilling blood, Yanzi would protect him.

As long as he didn't leave his plot, Ma Wu was safer here than in the Ma family mansion.

But was Li Banfeng safe going to Lüshuicheng?

Though tensions with the Lu family had temporarily eased, Ma Wu still worried: "If it's not urgent, don't go to Lüshuicheng for now—I feel something big is coming from the major families."

"I do have something urgent—I need to buy paintings."

"Buy paintings?" Ma Wu blinked. "What's urgent about that?"

"Extremely urgent. I've become obsessed with viewing paintings—if I don't see one a day, I can't even eat."

The words sounded familiar—Ma Wu remembered Li Banfeng buying the phonograph. Back then, no matter how he tried to persuade him, he couldn't stop Li Banfeng.

"Old Seven, your actions are truly strange—I just don't get them."

Li Banfeng laughed bitterly: "You slept with the Cloak Moth Lady, and you think I'm strange?"

"Do you want famous paintings or ordinary wall hangings?"

"Of course famous paintings in Lüshuicheng."

In truth, Li Banfeng wanted to learn painting.

The pendulum had taught him Western techniques—he might not master them in two or three years; he wanted something quick.

"Famous paintings…" Ma Wu thought a moment, then recalled one: "Lüshuicheng has many renowned painters, but in my view, the most evocative is Master Qiao Guangyuan—especially his landscape paintings…"

"No landscapes," Li Banfeng waved his hand. "I want someone skilled at painting people."

"For human portraits, Master Fu Taiyue is excellent—he can capture a person's likeness with just three or five strokes."

Hearing "three or five strokes," Li Banfeng perked up!

That was exactly the skill he wanted—in a crisis, three or five strokes could summon a powerful combatant—perfect for maximizing his Fourth-Level Technique!

He wanted exactly this kind of painting skill: in a crisis, with just three or five strokes, he could conjure a powerful combatant—wouldn't that push the fourth-layer technique to its utmost?

Ma Wu gave Li Banfeng Fu Taiyue's address and warned: "Master Fu is somewhat aloof, and his paintings aren't cheap. If you truly want one, you'll need patience."

Great artists always had quirks—Li Banfeng didn't mind.

After spending one night in the New Land, Li Banfeng sent Xiao Gen back to Lanyang Village and set off alone for Lüshuicheng.

Following Ma Wu's directions, Li Banfeng found Master Fu Taiyue's residence.

He knocked for a long time before a servant appeared: "Are you here to request a painting?"

Li Banfeng shook his head: "I'm here to learn painting."

The servant sized him up, then said: "Wait here."

He waited over half an hour outside before the door opened; the servant led him into the entrance hall, then waited another half hour before taking him to the main hall.

Li Banfeng uttered not a single complaint.

Learning from a master required enduring such trials.

Master Fu Taiyue was painting; the servant signaled Li Banfeng to stay silent. Li Banfeng carefully studied the paintings in the hall and the unfinished work before the master.

After a full inspection, Li Banfeng turned and left.

Master Fu set down his brush and sneered: "Young man, if you have no patience, you're not fit to be my disciple."

"It's not lack of patience—I don't want to learn from you," Li Banfeng replied calmly, speaking sincerely.

Master Fu blinked in surprise: "This old man is unworthy—please enlighten me."

Li Banfeng pointed to a painting on the wall: "I don't understand your painting—is it a person or a mountain?"

The old master laughed: "I painted a Mountain Spirit—its form resembles a mountain, its spirit resembles a person. The essence of the Mountain Spirit lies within this scroll."

Li Banfeng studied it closely—he had a point.

The shape was a mountain, but the brushstrokes between the peaks and valleys formed a human face, radiating an elusive majesty.

"Good," Li Banfeng approved, then walked out.

The old master's work was indeed evocative—all the paintings in the room were.

But it was useless to Li Banfeng—such abstract imagery wouldn't help him in battle.

But this was useless to Li Banfeng; drawing such an abstract thing was unsuitable for helping Li Banfeng fight.

Watching Li Banfeng walk away without looking back, the old master put down his brush and chased after him: "Young man, you said it was good—but you haven't explained why this painting is good."

"It's good everywhere, but too profound—I haven't reached that level yet. When I've studied a few more years, I'll come back to ask you for guidance."

Fu Taiyue's expression turned dark. The servant glanced at Li Banfeng's back and sneered: "Someone like you should go learn painting on Painting Street—that's where you belong."

Li Banfeng turned around and asked: "Where is Painting Street? I'd like to see it."

He meant it as a sincere question, but this angered Fu Taiyue. His veins bulged, and the mountain god hanging in the parlor seemed to come alive, glaring at Li Banfeng.

Not just seemed—truly came alive.

Li Banfeng sensed danger and quickly left the mansion.

Is this man a Zhai Xiu?

He didn't drip blood onto the painting earlier.

Or perhaps some other Dao sect?

His cultivation base seems high.

…

Li Banfeng arrived at Painting Street, where many shops sold paintings and many vendors displayed them on stalls.

Li Banfeng walked past several stalls and spotted a painting of a beautiful woman.

It was a traditional ink painting, with relatively simple lines, yet the figure was lifelike—especially the woman, who was stunning: dressed in a qipao, with wavy shoulder-length hair, large eyes, slender brows, full lips, and a mole just above the corner of her left mouth—utterly alluring.

This perfectly matched Li Banfeng's needs.

The vendor hurried over: "Sir, you like this painting of the beauty? Excellent taste—I've sold over a dozen today. If you'd come a moment later, there'd be none left."

"Normally this painting sells for sixty, but today you've come at the right time—I need to pack up quickly. Let's make it fifty-five. Is that fair?"

Li Banfeng shook his head: "I'm not here to buy a painting."

Hearing this, the vendor's enthusiasm faded: "I sell paintings. If you're not buying, go elsewhere."

Li Banfeng said: "I want to learn painting from you."

The vendor blinked: "Learn painting from me? Are you joking?"

"I'm not joking. Name your price."

The vendor hesitated: "How could I charge you? I don't know how to paint."

"You don't? Then who painted this?"

"I don't know who painted it. Can't you tell? This painting is printed!"

"Printed?" Li Banfeng stared at the painting for a long time. It still smelled of ink—he saw no texture of printing.

The vendor was honest enough: "I told you—I've sold over a dozen. Could I possibly paint the same picture over and over?"

Printed… maybe it's not impossible.

Li Banfeng looked at the vendor: "Can you teach me how to print paintings?"

The vendor sized him up: "Sir, are you here to cause trouble?"

"I'm here sincerely to learn."

The vendor shook his head: "This is a trade to earn your living—I don't teach it."

Li Banfeng pulled out a stack of banknotes: "I'll pay."

…

Rubbings were indeed a craft.

Applying ink, laying paper, peeling off the print—each step had its technique.

But this craft was far easier than painting.

Li Banfeng spent twenty thousand yuan and, over two days, learned about fifty to sixty percent of the rubbing technique from the vendor.

The vendor gave Li Banfeng over a dozen painting boards (templates). Li Banfeng bought a ream of white paper and two large bottles of ink, then returned to his residence to begin printing.

Watching Li Banfeng busily at work, the Clock Pendulum worried: "Master, you're taking a shortcut. Will this work?"

Li Banfeng focused on printing and ignored the Clock Pendulum.

The Clock Pendulum turned to the phonograph: "Madam…"

Crrrrt~

The phonograph sneered: "Neglecting the true path, chasing this fringe trick—you'll waste your effort."

Still, even the phonograph didn't know if this method would work.

Though printed, the painting was still printed by Li Banfeng's own hands.

After more than ten minutes, one painting was complete.

Li Banfeng sliced his fingertip and dripped a drop of blood onto the painting.

He concentrated his will, waited a moment—and the paper rustled. Slowly, a three-foot-tall beauty stepped out of the painting!

Li Banfeng was delighted; the Clock Pendulum was astonished.

"Bring me tea," Li Banfeng ordered. The three-foot beauty immediately moved, placing tea leaves in the cup, then pouring water.

She really knew how to pour tea!

Though the water was cold, her intelligence far surpassed the one-foot girl Li Banfeng had created before.

Li Banfeng sipped tea while directing the three-foot beauty.

She could sweep the floor and wipe dust.

Such sharpness—she'd surely be useful in battle too!

Just as Li Banfeng rejoiced, a rustling sound—suddenly, the three-foot beauty fell apart, scattering into paper shreds.

The phonograph sighed: "Oh, husband, you poured in so little effort—this delicate lady lasts only moments."

The lifespan of a paper spirit depended on the amount of heart's effort invested.

Li Banfeng checked his pocket watch—the three-foot beauty had lasted barely five minutes.

The phonograph warned: "This isn't combat yet. In battle, she'd shatter faster—probably not even last a minute."

One minute.

Is that enough?

Depends on how you use it.

PS: Actually, one minute isn't that short.

(End of Chapter)