As soon as he said this, the villagers all voiced their admiration. Village Chief nodded with a smile and said, "Deaf is truly remarkable. This is the most refined way to compete: the spirit-linked dot, bestowing soul. To seize the workings of heaven and earth—there's nothing greater."
Quinn Shepherd stepped forward and bowed respectfully to Deaf, performing the disciple's salute.
Deaf's expression shifted slightly, and he hurriedly dodged aside, saying, "In this contest, we set aside master and disciple. For now, we are both students, and should greet each other as equals. Only after we compete will I be your teacher."
Quinn knew Deaf was eccentric in his ways, so he immediately saluted as an equal. Deaf returned the gesture in kind.
Each took up a brush and stood before the painting, gazing at the image in front of them.
Using magic power to enliven the dragon on the painting was already a rare accomplishment. But if one's cultivation fell short, to dot the dragon's eyes with artistic intent and bestow a soul upon it—this touched upon the mysteries of creation itself.
Quinn had previously studied calligraphy and painting with Deaf—reading, writing, and drawing. Though Deaf had taught him much and Quinn had painted many pictures, developing a solid foundation, this was his first time attempting to dot the dragon's eyes and breathe life into a painting.
Deaf had indeed taught him the spirit-linked dot, to imbue painted figures and objects with a soul, but Quinn had never succeeded in the attempt.
This challenge was far more difficult than those before.
Quinn focused his gaze on the dragon within the painting. The dragon was so lifelike that, as his eyes fell upon it, he felt as if it were slowly swimming and constantly changing posture.
Deaf's skill with the brush was truly extraordinary—he hadn't even dotted the eyes, yet the dragon in his painting already seemed poised to break free and soar into the sky!
Quinn raised his brush, but hesitated for a long time. The dragon was right before him, yet how was he supposed to dot its eyes?
He realized that no matter where he placed the dot, it wouldn't bring the dragon to life; every spot felt wrong.
Granny Sue couldn't help herself—she lowered her voice and whispered, "Quinn, just tear Deaf's painting and you'll win!"
Deaf shot her a glare. "That's the way of demons and heretics! I taught Quinn to read the books of sages—his heart is pure, he wouldn't stoop to your wicked tricks."
Granny Sue fumed with anger.
Village Chief chuckled, "Sue, don't meddle in Quinn's contest. Deaf's trial is truly ingenious."
Granny Sue could only restrain herself, forcing down her urge to interfere.
In Quinn's eyes, only the dragon remained—the village had vanished from his awareness, leaving just the painting floating before him. After a moment, even the painting faded away, and all that was left was the ink dragon itself.
The dragon swam in his vision—darting up and down, left and right, sometimes crouching, sometimes leaping, sometimes coiling, sometimes lying flat. It raised its head and flicked its tail, prowled, splashed water, spat fire, and breathed thunder. It was clever and strange, alive with a hundred oddities.