Another stroke.
Above the mountain range appeared ancient pine trees in full verdancy, and a rushing river encircled the mountains, forming instantly.
That movement was fluid like flowing clouds and water, imbued with an indescribable expressiveness and grace.
Finally, she lightly tapped.
A flock of spirit birds composed purely of ink instantly took shape, emitting clear chirps, circling in the sky, flying toward the distant real mountains, and ultimately merging into the mist, indistinguishable between reality and illusion.
The entire process took only a few breaths, and a magnificent landscape sprang forth effortlessly from her seemingly casual strokes.
After finishing all this, the woman released her hand, letting the wolf brush fly back to the pen holder by itself, and her crimson dragon eyes settled once more on Lin Guang, as if waiting for the boy's reaction.
He stood where he was, his face holding just the right amount of awe and reverence.
Thus…
