Zhao Rong, hearing this, looked at the inscription on the right side of the painting: "A stream plummets three thousand feet, as if the Milky Way has descended from the heavens."
It was then that he understood.
It was about Sword Qi.
Indeed, Mr. Wen had a knack for it.
Zhao Rong took out the heaviest piece of silver weighing ten taels that the old man had.
Mr. Wen accepted the silver, remembering the earlier mention of "borrowing silver," and immediately joked, "The young master's friend is indeed generous."
"One relies on friends when traveling."
Zhao Rong smiled and replied, "If my friend knew Mr. Wen drew so well, he would surely be more generous."
Mr. Wen shook his head and sighed, "Without even drawing a sword, you've already shown sharp brilliance, young master. My painting still lacks depth."
He genuinely seemed dissatisfied and took out another blank scroll from the bamboo cage and drew a similar painting.
