Paint a dragon? Hearing this, Qu Chuchen was stunned.
It should be noted that this type of painting is not common among many paintings. Just because most people have never seen a real dragon, including him.
But Ji Ping'an has seen it.
Not only had he seen it, but he had also killed one with his own hands and dug out the demon elixir...or, as he put it in a bad taste, cut open the "dragon beads".
Just like comparing skills, his fingering is no better than Zhong Tongjun's, and his painting skills are no better than Qu Chuchen's.
The long time gave him enough time, but both Li Yang and the national master only regarded skills as tools or games.
His strength lies in artistic conception.
So when Gao Mingjing commented on his rough skills in Anxiang Tower, he did not refute this, because in Ji Ping'an's view, those things were not important.
"Okay." Qu Chuchen smiled, raised his finger and pointed at the pen and ink in the courtyard: "Please."
His tone and demeanor were all filled with strong confidence.
Confidence comes from strength and the momentum of overlooking everything brought by the accumulation of successive victories.
Ji Ping'an said "yes" and scanned the courtyard, choosing a desk that looked pleasing to his eye.
There are various sizes of drawing paper and other tools nearby.
The young painter who led the way earlier reminded:
“You can choose the paints that are laid out, or you can mix them yourself.”
Ji Ping'an didn't hesitate and picked up a few similar-looking inks.
After some thought, I decided to switch to a more time-saving style instead of choosing a brush that was easy to apply thickly and thickly.
While the two were preparing, the rest of the people in the courtyard tacitly distanced themselves and watched from a distance.
When many painters are concentrating on creating, they are very taboo about having people watching around them, which will affect their immersive state.
To be fair, I will only glance at you briefly in the middle, but I will not stare at you the whole time.
Just seeing Ji Ping'an's casual behavior, the Hongru people in Shendu who acted as the "referee" of the backdrop looked at each other and shook their heads slightly.
A good painting can be distinguished at the stage of mixing ink. Although this young man made no big mistake, he gave the impression that he was in a hurry to finish the painting and leave.
After all... I'm getting a little irritable.
"Start." An old man announced.
The courtyard door slammed shut, blocking out the noise and eyes outside. Only when the painting is completed will it be reopened.
Qu Chuchen stood beside the case, holding his sleeves with one hand and dipping in ink with the other, thinking about the composition in his mind.
He turned his head to look at his opponent out of habit, and then he was stunned for a moment.
I saw the young man wearing a bamboo hat holding a pen hanging on his wrist, but closing his eyes.
…
Hundreds of years ago.
East China Sea.
"Wow——"
In the vast ocean, there was a sudden surge. A huge, mountain-like deep blue whale made of tens of millions of tons of sea water was galloping through the waves, passing by with astonishing momentum.
And above the head of the giant whale, a figure wearing a scholar's robe stood with his hands behind his back.
The whole body was shrouded in a faint starlight, like an immortal.
His gaze fell in the distance, and an undercurrent in the sea followed him closely.
Suddenly, the sea exploded with a bang, and gray water splashed in all directions.
A dragon roared.
An ancient life covered with gray scales and huge in body, similar to dragons in mythology but with many differences, was lifted out of the sea. When it rose, vast swaths of seawater fell along both sides of the dragon's body.
Just looking carefully, the dragon's body was mottled and damaged, its scales were cracked, and blood flowed across it, dyeing the sea water red.
The Canglong King broke out of the water, hovered in the sky, his breath was sluggish, and shouted at the national master dressed as a teacher who was riding a giant whale:
"Do you really want to kill them all?"
The Imperial Master of the Great Zhou Dynasty stood facing the wind with a smile on his lips:
"It's just a courtesy. Since you set up a trap for me, you should have thought of today."
Canglong King shouted: "You have injured me so much, are you still not satisfied?"
The Imperial Master sighed softly and said:
"If you are beaten, just hit him back; if you make a mistake, just apologize. Then what's the point of practicing?"
As he spoke, he smiled and said:
"Although you are just a pseudo-dragon, I heard that the demon elixir is also very good and can be fed to dogs. How about letting this matter be revealed as an apology."
The Canglong King was extremely angry, his eyes were filled with storms, and he roared:
"It's too much to bully a dragon."
Then, crimson light came out from the crack in its huge dragon body, and it raised its head and sucked towards the sky.
The entire sea area was shrouded in dark clouds, the sky was dark and the earth was dark, thunder loomed in the clouds, and the sea surface was boiling.
The smile on the Imperial Master's face disappeared, he snorted coldly, raised his left hand with five fingers spread out, and grabbed it towards the sea.
The eight water pillars were lifted up and rotated to seal the demon dragon's retreat.
The five fingers of his right hand spread out and he grasped the sky.
The golden cobweb-like thunder in the sky gathered towards his palm, weaving into a pure golden short spear.
"go!"
The Imperial Master threw the "short spear", and a bright golden light was like a meteor, illuminating the dark sea surface, and then engulfed the seriously injured Cang Long King.
After a while, blood fell from the sky.
That day, a rain of blood fell in the East China Sea.
…
Inside the Green Apricot Garden.
Ji Ping'an opened his eyes, and the ink pen in his hand fell on the center of the white paper, smearing it into a pale gray, just like the sea in his memory.
With a twist of his wrist, he pressed the tip of the pen on the drawing paper, pushed and pulled the penholder with his fingers, and with a "chi" sound, he drew out a line, just like the dragon in his memory.
He outlines lines, applies colors, and fills in details like a dragon and a snake.
Suddenly I thought: Does this count as sketching?
So fast... Qu Chuchen was a little surprised, but he quickly turned around and started writing with the same ink.
For a moment, the entire Green Apricot Garden fell into silence, with only the faint sound of ink pens rubbing against paper.
…
Across the door, outside the courtyard, a large group of scholars turned their attention away and discussed what the theme of this game would be.
"I'll bet on choosing one of landscapes, flowers and birds." A young scholar said, "This type is the most common."
Another scholar holding a folding fan shook his head: "No, isn't it surprising? It's probably a picture of a lady."
Someone next to him said: "What's there to guess? Anyway, it's Qu Chuchen who wins."
The crowd of scholars was silent.
Everyone feels depressed, yes. Regardless of the subject matter, technique, or style...it is Watson who wins.
When the atmosphere was dull, suddenly a carriage came quickly from a distance and stopped nearby.
A fat white scholar lifted up the hem of his robe, jumped out of the car excitedly, and shouted to his classmates in the crowd:
"Brother Li, Brother Han, what a happy event."
The two readers who had guessed the question before turned their heads and looked at each other, wondering:
"After being bullied like this by Mo Lin, what kind of happy event can there be?"
The scholar's face turned red with excitement, he danced and said:
"We won! Just now, on the other side of Baidi's piano stage, someone beat Mr. Zhong Tong with his song "Time". Now there is a sea of people there and it's very lively. I finally squeezed out."
What?
Did Bai Di win that match?
As soon as the words fell, the people around him looked shocked and swarmed in, surrounding the scholar in the center and asking questions.
When I finally understood what was going on, I was both delighted and doubtful.
I don’t know if it’s true or false. After all, it is so bizarre that people instinctively question its authenticity.
Immediately some scholars called their friends and hurried towards Baidi. The two gamblers were about to start, but were stopped by their classmates:
"That 'Mr. He' has left. I can't see anything in this moment. Hey... Speaking of which, why is the gate of Qingxing Garden closed again? Could it be that someone is challenging it?"
The scholar holding a folding fan said "En", his heart flew to Baidi, and he said casually:
"A young man wearing a hat came here not long ago."
Hat? The fat white scholar who reported the news had his sensitive nerves touched and subconsciously asked:
"What clothes are you wearing? How tall are you?"
After his classmate finished describing the general characteristics, he froze on the spot, a crazy idea came to his mind, but he felt it was too outrageous.
…
Baidi.
Although Ji Ping'an had left, the number of people who came after hearing the news continued to increase.
When Gao Mingjing arrived nearby by car, he only saw a dense crowd of people, with those outside squeezing in and those inside burrowing out.
"Master." After a while, Zhong Tongjun and several musicians rushed through the waves and rushed over from the crowd.
With a bookish face, she bowed her head and said with shame:
"I lost."
Gao Mingjing unfurled his frown and said with relief:
"I'm aware of what happened, so there's no need to blame myself. It's just that I didn't know there was such a person in the capital of God."
Zhong Tongjun thought for a while and said, "Maybe he came from out of town."
Out of town... Gao Mingjing couldn't be sure, and said in a deep voice: "Martial arts performance is just about practicing skills, don't take it too seriously. You don't have to stay here for those gang of traffickers to watch, get in the car."
The people had been oppressed for several days, and now they finally won a victory. The words never sounded good.
Zhong Tongjun said "yes", lifted up his long skirt and got into the carriage.
Practitioners are not burdened by mortals, and there is no taboo against men and women riding in the same car.
"Are we going back to the post house now?" asked the disciple who was driving.
Gao Mingjing pondered for a moment and said, "Go to the Green Apricot Garden."
If the opponent is just a folk expert, that's fine. But if it's not a coincidence and is related to the imperial court, will other arenas also have strong opponents?
The possibility is slim. But he decided to take a trip anyway.
…
Inside the Green Apricot Garden.
All the hustle and bustle of the outside world is blocked by the thick gate, and the atmosphere in the courtyard is quiet and peaceful, in sharp contrast to the boiling Baidi.
Painting is not playing the piano. No matter how rough the brushwork is, it will always take more time.
Of course, this is a wrestling match after all, and it is impossible to give a few days to consider and write down, so the referees have become accustomed to drinking tea, reading, and even eating snacks during this time.
But today's challenger is a little different.
In the past, people, including the chief painter of the palace, were careful when writing and strived for perfection, but this strange young man who even wore a bamboo hat when painting did not hesitate for a moment from the moment he started writing.
As if there is no need to think, the success is already in my mind.
But if you think about it carefully, it’s not surprising.
It must have been tempered in the heart before arriving, and of course the writing was done with dexterity, but it is a pity that the gap in absolute strength cannot be erased by this.
On the contrary, the faster Ji Ping'an put pen to paper, the less expectant the referees became.
Just when the first "referee" yawned and raised his hand to call the boy to bring some refreshments.
Suddenly, the pen in Ji Ping'an's hand stopped.
He gently placed the brush aside, raised his head, and said calmly: "I'm done painting."
The courtyard fell silent.
Is this the end? You are too fast...
Hearing this, both the scholars and the painters scattered around had strange expressions.
Thought:
Regardless of the painting, at least in terms of speed, it wins.
Unfortunately...speed is not the key in this one.
Qu Chuchen was stunned for a moment, picked up his pen and looked at his half-finished painting, shook his head and smiled, and put down his pen.
He rubbed his wrists and prepared to appreciate the other party's finished product.
"Who's going to take a look?" Seeing this scene, the white-bearded old man who acted as the "chief referee" asked on the referee's bench.
"I'll go," a thin old man stood up from the edge of the table and said with a smile:
"I've just been sitting for a long time, so I need to stretch my muscles."
During the conversation, he did not have any expectations. After all, in such a short time, it is a complex and difficult category to draw like a real dragon... But at this juncture, daring to compete with Mo Lin... his courage is commendable.
The thin old man walked over slowly, already thinking in his mind, no matter how inferior the young man's painting was, he would always find some angle to praise and encourage him.
It cannot dishearten those who are brave enough to take on the challenge.
He smiled and nodded at Ji Pingan, then walked to the case and looked down.
Then, in front of everyone, the smile on the old man's face disappeared, as if he had been immobilized. He kept stroking his beard, but his face was visibly whitened and he stood still.
"Old Master Zhou?" Someone called softly, but he didn't even notice.
On the referee's bench, another middle-aged man with a square face frowned. Driven by curiosity, he stood up, walked to the old man's side, and looked down.
Then...he also stopped moving.
"This..." The remaining Hongru people looked at each other.
Finally, the leader of the white-bearded old man stood up, glanced at Qu Chuchen who looked curious, and raised his hand to gesture:
"You and I are watching together?"
Qu Chuchen nodded, and the old man and the young man, who were full of curiosity, walked to the case at the same time and lowered their heads to look.
Then, the pupils of the handsome young painter genius suddenly narrowed!
"boom--"
In his mind, there seemed to be an angry sea roaring and thunder gushing out. The whole mind is pulled into the world of the painting.
The salty sea breeze and splashing water droplets are immersive.
The heaven and earth are vast, but humans are as small as dust.
He raised his head and suddenly saw a blue dragon roaring and struggling in the angry sea, as if it was fighting against a round of Xuanhe golden light in the distance.
When the huge body cracked and collapsed. As if aware of the gaze, he turned his head and looked around, opening a pair of blank, lifeless eyes.
Qu Chuchen suddenly came back to his senses, escaped from the artistic conception of the scroll, breathed slightly, and had an emotion that was difficult to conceal.
He looked again, only to find that the sea had turned into blue ink, the blue dragon had turned into raised lines on the paper, and the brilliant golden wheel was just a blur in the corner of the scroll.
"This..." Qu Chuchen finally understood why several old men stood still. As mortals, it was more difficult for them to resist the sweeping artistic conception of the scroll.
But why, as a Mo Lin painter, couldn’t I resist? Almost lost your mind?
"Can I give a score?"
Suddenly, Ji Ping'an's voice sounded, which also brought several Hongru people back to reality.
Feeling the real fear, the thin old man subconsciously pulled off a beard.
The square-faced middle-aged man took a deep breath and looked at the simple-lined scroll again, filled with surprise and uncertainty.
The white-bearded old man's eyes returned to focus, and then he remembered that he was in the arena, and his face flushed with excitement.
Qu Chuchen was silent for a moment, looked at the painting in front of him with simple lines, but every stroke was vivid on the paper, and then looked at his unfinished painting.
Said: "I lost."
In the green apricot garden, you can hear the needle drop.
…
ps: Thanks to Mr. Sakura for the reward of 100,000 points! Thank you for changing my name to Wanzhang for the first time!
Thanks to: 1500 rewards for Tengger and Huanger from the Zhatian Gang, 500 rewards for Li Shipu and A Grass on the House, 2023... 1028. Please give me 100 rewards for your support! Thank you all for your monthly votes!
(End of chapter)
