Martial Saint through Reading-Chapter 60: Three Identical Paintings?!

The painting workshop isn’t in the bustling part of town; it’s not a single shop, but an entire street.

If the place we just passed is called the "commercial district," then within this gateway, you’ll find the "calligraphy and antiques district."

The painting workshop has another name: "Market Lane."

The character for "market" is stylized here; originally, it was simply "imitation."

There are genuine items here, but most are fakes—it’s all about sharp eyes and quick wits.

Some people come to hunt for the real deal; others just want the fakes.

As everyone knows, anyone daring to earn silver taels here is no simpleton; the waters run deep. That’s precisely why Ning Hao and Liang Yuan chose to disguise themselves.

"Brother Chu, Tang Bai’s authentic landscape is only available for viewing in the gallery. Should we go admire it first, or sell our imitation paintings?"

The three strode into the painting workshop. Liang Yuan, dressed as a scholarly attendant, whispered in Chu Ming’s ear.

"Let’s sell the paintings first." Chu Ming’s voice was steady, and at the same time, [Sword Gourd Spirit] activated, observing their surroundings.

On the status panel.

[Sword Gourd Spirit]

[Progress (Great Success) 2/100]

[Assessment: Mastered through reading various travelogues; heightened perception; can actively trigger, inner vision of oneself, meticulous observation of surroundings, or rough external assessment of others’ qi and blood strength]

After grinding [Sword Gourd Spirit] to Great Success, Chu Ming gained a new ability: he could roughly gauge a person’s physical strength—"combat power," so to speak.

Yet this sensing is vague; unlike inner vision, which reveals details about his own qi and blood, he can only faintly perceive several threads of qi and blood.

For example, when he looks at Ning Hao and Liang Yuan, their physical strength is weaker than the average adult.

He checks out other folks in the market...

In the brief time since entering, no fewer than ten glances—some deliberate, some casual—have swept over the trio.

Moreover, several of these are martial artists, disguised as ordinary porters and laborers, their physical strength several times greater than Ning Hao and Liang Yuan’s.

Others lack the [Sword Gourd Spirit] ability. Ning Hao’s fearsome disguise works well, and those people quickly avert their gaze.

The trio walked along Painting Workshop Street for half a quarter of an hour, stopping in front of a pavilion called "Rain Paint Tower."

"Brother Chu, this place offers the best prices for imitations—and it’s the safest." Ning Hao lowered his voice.

"Alright, here it is."

Chu Ming led the way, Ning Hao and Liang Yuan followed, keeping up the master-servant act as they entered the pavilion.

At a glance, there weren’t many people inside Rain Paint Tower. Most watched the displayed paintings, while a girl in a blue long gown, bored, lay slumped over the counter.

People came in, but the girl acted as if she hadn’t noticed, still staring off in a single direction.

Follow her gaze and you’d find she was looking at a painting.

That picture wasn’t a landscape—on its small scroll was just a peach tree, beneath which two people sat close together.

A scholar, and a gentle woman.

So the girl is...

Chu Ming walked calmly to the counter. Liang Yuan, dressed as the scholarly attendant, set four paintings on the countertop: "Selling paintings."

His voice wasn’t loud, but it drew the attention of those touring the gallery.

Since Rain Paint Tower buys paintings, naturally it also sells them.

The girl, a bit unwilling, tore her gaze away, glanced at Liang Yuan, and then moved her eyes to Chu Ming.

Fair skin, refined features, handsome looks...

"Selling paintings!"

The girl had been lost in thought, but Liang Yuan rudely interrupted.

"Ah, um, may I take a look first?" The girl’s cheeks reddened slightly.

"Go ahead." Liang Yuan replied, not too pleased, then shot a look at the fierce-looking Ning Hao. Their eyes seemed to be having a heated debate.

Liang Yuan: Senior brother, last time we came, was it this same girl?

Ning Hao: Yes.

Liang Yuan: Is my scholar disguise not charismatic enough? Why does this girl only have eyes for Brother Chu?

Ning Hao: ...Next time you play the fierce brute, I’ll be the scholar.

As they exchanged glances, the girl unrolled the first painting.

This was Liang Yuan’s imitation, with poetry composed by Ning Hao.

The girl’s brows raised, her beautiful eyes shining: "Tang Bai’s True Map of Mountains and Rivers..."

Before she finished speaking, the others in the gallery turned for a look.

"The imitation’s not bad, especially this poem—it really has atmosphere. Did the young master compose it himself?"

The girl gave Chu Ming a sweet smile, pointing toward the scroll: "This mountain..."

"It wasn’t drawn by my master; it was...my master taught me to paint it." Liang Yuan, uncomfortable with the praise, interrupted just as the girl was about to commend the details: "Doesn’t this mountain feel impressive?"

The girl’s slender hand paused over the scroll, her gaze swept from Chu Ming to Liang Yuan in his scholarly disguise: "The mountain’s flawed; the brushwork’s too heavy."

Isn’t that what you originally wanted to say?

Liang Yuan retorted: "How about the water?"

"The water... The lines are too stiff; it doesn’t capture the flow of water."

Fine, well done, woman.

The bystanders, listening to the girl’s critique, shook their heads.

Just a scholarly attendant’s imitation, not much value in it.

"So how many silver taels is this painting worth?" Though dissatisfied, Liang Yuan kept his place as a scholar-attendant—knowing what to ask and when.

The girl held up four slender fingers: "Four taels, I’d say."

"Four taels it is. Let’s see the next one!"

The genuine works of famous artists are worth thousands, often bought and cherished by high officials and nobles.

Some painting enthusiasts, drawn to a particular master but short on silver taels, or just out to show off—or for other reasons—will opt for such imitation paintings.

That’s why the market buys up imitations.

The girl rolled up Liang Yuan’s painting and unfurled the second scroll.

This painting was Chu Ming’s first imitation of Liang Yuan’s work after his [Calligraphy and Painting] skill breakthrough.

"This painting..." The girl’s gaze lingered on the scroll, her brows faintly furrowed. "Other than the poem being different, the landscape brushwork is exactly the same. Was this also done by the young master?"

To create two identical paintings—even if both have flaws—is nonetheless astonishing.

No two leaves are ever alike; imitating two perfectly matching paintings is impossible. Yet she saw it before her.

"And this poem... matches the landscape even better than the first. The rhyme and meter are quite elegant."

The girl looked skeptically at Liang Yuan in his scholarly disguise, her eyes flickered briefly to Chu Ming.

Having spoken, Ning Hao felt his face flush—if not for his disguise, his face would surely be red.

Liang Yuan’s face also betrayed embarrassment: "Y-yes, I did the imitation, but the poem isn’t mine."

The girl smiled without comment.

It wasn’t the little scholar who wrote the poem, so it must be the scholar himself.

That makes sense.

Still, the little scholar’s imitation talent is pretty high.

"This piece, five taels."

Speaking, the girl couldn’t help studying Liang Yuan a bit longer, then unrolled the third scroll.

Another identical imitation, only the poem varies. The girl held up five fingers: "Still five taels."

She finished, then opened the last painting: "This one, also fi... huh?"

Just as she was about to say five taels, her eyes were caught by the unrolled painting.

"This painting..."

What happened to the painting?

Ning Hao and Liang Yuan both looked over, curious.

The last two paintings were freshly made by Chu Ming; the other two hadn’t seen them before.

"This one’s broadly no different from the previous three, but these two sections—the brushwork looks much more spirited," the girl said, pointing to the mountain ridge on the painting, and then to the water at its base. "And this water, unlike Tang Bai’s original, seems to have its own character."