After several instances of devouring, Duan Rong gradually adapted to the post-devouring state.
It's as if constantly driving on roads with obstacles, and over time, one grows accustomed to the complex conditions, maintaining a stable speed.
However, that sense of discomfort in the mind still lingered.
How should I put it? It's probably akin to having something stuck in your throat...
Duan Rong endured the discomfort in his mind as he walked into a shop by the street.
This shop sold the Four Treasures of the Study. Nowadays, the literati are poor, while the martial are rich; the martial is valued over the literary. Even such shops are small and shabby, completely incomparable to the grand facades of herbal shops.
Inside the shop, Duan Rong bought an ink stone and ink, four brushes, a large stack of Chinese rice paper, as well as vermilion pigments and other supplies, spending only three taels of silver in total for the whole bunch.
Carrying this pile of supplies, Duan Rong headed to the Yuan Shun Escort Agency.
Duan Rong ate at the canteen in the central courtyard every day, so many Escort Masters already knew that he was the new apprentice this year.
Plus, thanks to Zhao Mu spreading the word, some had caught wind of his unique talent.
Seeing Duan Rong come in with rice paper and brushes, many of the Escort Masters teased him: "What's this? Xiao Rong, are you giving up martial arts for literature?"
Duan Rong chuckled, "This is called a new business model! I'm going to use literature to support martial arts!"
"What the heck is that? What kind of business model?"
"Just making money!" Duan Rong replied impatiently, as digesting the Artifact Spirit left him feeling discomforted.
Not wanting to say more, Duan Rong walked through the crowd toward the dormitory courtyard.
The Escort Masters watched Duan Rong's retreating back, whispering among themselves.
"Is there something wrong with Xiao Rong's head?"
"And his temper seems a bit volatile!"
"Not long ago, one of their peers, a Servant Disciple, hanged himself, didn't he? Maybe something malevolent is haunting this batch... Best to keep a distance..."
Returning to the dormitory, Duan Rong locked the door, placed the rolled-up supplies on the bench, then climbed onto the bed, covered himself with a blanket, and fell asleep.
When asleep, the process of devouring and absorbing the Artifact Spirit becomes fastest...
In his dreams, a gentle hand wielded a paintbrush; one hand lifted its sleeve while the other, wrist suspended, dabbed ink onto the paper.
The figure's back was graceful, with long black hair cascading like a waterfall...
The back in the dream was so real that it even caused saliva to drip from the corner of Duan Rong's mouth...
Two hours later, around midnight, Duan Rong suddenly awoke and got out of bed.
Wiping the drool from his mouth, he exclaimed in surprise, "That Night Banquet of Ladies painting was actually done by a woman? But that painting completely has the male gaze perspective!"
"For it to have been created by a woman and judging by her graceful back, she must be an elegant beauty."
"I'd really like to meet such a great beauty. With her painting style, she must surely be skilled at spring palace paintings!"
Duan Rong merely indulged a little in his imagination and then left the dormitory, fetched some water by the well, and washed his face.
The shock of the cold well water thoroughly revived him, and he returned to the dormitory, uncovering the bedding to lay out the rice paper on the bedboards, and sat on the bench. With surprisingly adept skill, he began grinding and mixing pigments, diving straight into his drawing!
But if observed closely, there was a faint, subtle femininity in his hand movements...
Yet Duan Rong paid no attention to these details; he was fully absorbed in the rice paper before him. This would be his first work.
Duan Rong's focus was so intense that it was as though he wasn't painting in a small room under a flickering oil lamp, but rather seated in a spacious, bright study...
Half an hour later, Duan Rong's first painting was complete.
The painting depicted a woman, graceful in figure, dressed in a snow-white skirt, with softly highlighted red lips and bright, clear eyes.
Duan Rong's first painting was unexpectedly Xiao Baijiao.
It was evident how deep an impression this woman had left on Duan Rong!
After finishing the painting, Duan Rong scrutinized his debut piece, a profound contemplative look flickering in his eyes.
He set the painting aside, took another sheet of rice paper, and spread it on the hard bedboards before him.
Duan Rong buried himself once more in painting, frequently glancing at the debut piece beside him, pausing now and then with a deep look of contemplation on his face.
This second painting took Duan Rong almost an hour to complete.
When finished, he placed the two paintings side by side.
The second one also featured Xiao Baijiao, but with profound changes...
In the debut painting, Xiao Baijiao was both loving and alluring, thus having a touch of baby fat.
But in the second painting, Xiao Baijiao's face was slender and her gaze was cool—this subtle change gave her an ethereal, fairy-like quality.
Although the two paintings clearly depicted the same person, the mood and essence were entirely different.
In truth, Duan Rong had made many subtle adjustments, not easily noticeable at first glance.
"The main features are the eyes, and the eye spacing; those are the absolutely untouchable areas! Any change, and the likeness vanishes!"
"The lips are also a crucial feature."
Duan Rong gathered his experiences and continued to immerse himself in painting, painstakingly overcoming technical hurdles...
Duan Rong painted diligently into the next day's noon.
The noon sunlight filtered through the carved window cloth, the flickering flame had long since extinguished unbeknownst to him.
The oil lamp, containing only a small amount of lamp oil, was dry.
The originally cramped single room was now filled with paintings on the bedside, on the floor.
Almost all were portraits, each depicting familiar people to Duan Rong.
Xiao Zongting, Zhao Mu, Li Chong, Kong Bin, Zhu Xiaoqi, all vividly present, and each was painted several times.
Staring at the two paintings in front, they were of Xiao Zongting and Xiaoqi Bai—the father and daughter duo.
Xiao Zongting's steel knife gleamed coldly, his eyes icy, exuding fearsome killing intent!
Xiao Baijiao turned sideways with a coy smile, charming and lovely, yet this very smile's lethality might far exceed Xiao Zongting's gleaming steel knife!
A beauty's smile or a martial artist's blade—which is truly the more formidable weapon?
Looking at the two paintings before him, Duan Rong stretched his stiff waist and finally displayed a smile.
"Overcoming technical hurdles is just the first step in the new business model."
"Xiao Baijiao is nearly perfect, but Xiao Zongting seems to be lacking something."
He rubbed his thumb against his forefinger, the image of the slender scholar writing letters on the street flashing through his mind.
Duan Rong tidied up the room briefly, carefully folded the completed paintings, and placed them at the bedside before leaving the dormitory. He had lunch at the canteen in the central courtyard, then exited the Escort Agency and headed toward the street.
At the street corner not far from the antique lane, Duan Rong saw the slender scholar had already set up his stand from afar.
However, at this time, there were no customers at the slender scholar's stall, and he himself seemed to be drawing something, with suspended brush in hand before his work desk.
Duan Rong's eyes glimmered, and he hurriedly walked over.