Chapter 1687: Painting

Amidst gasps of awe, Ye Chen had already stepped into Jie Ming Shan.

Behind him, many eyes watched with reverence.

Trapped by emotion, he had managed to break free so quickly and even defeated the disciple of the Emperor Monarch, which was no easy feat.

To endure what others could not, while bearing such wounds, was incredibly difficult.

People began to believe that Ye Chen's undefeated record as the Sacred Body was not just due to his strength, but also his unwavering resolve.

Unconsciously, many turned their eyes toward Zhao Yun.

If one spoke of prodigies, this fellow and Ye Chen were evenly matched.

These two were quite the troublemakers—one had knocked down Ming Jue, the other had bested Bai Zhi, leaving the two supreme beings utterly embarrassed.

Suddenly, many stroked their beards, silently warning themselves: provoke anyone, but not these two rascals.

They dared to shame even the supreme beings—what wouldn't they do?

Zhao Yun coughed dryly and turned to leave, thinking, what does this have to do with me?

Ming Jue also coughed, having been fuming before. After his battle with Zhao Yun, he had become the laughingstock of Yin Cao Di Fu, completely humiliated.

As he left, the onlookers dispersed one after another, but not before bowing respectfully toward Jie Ming Shan.

Some muttered that the Emperor Monarch was truly patient.

In front of Jie Ming Shan, only Bai Zhi remained, her smile tinged with self-mockery.

In terms of bloodline, her lineage was infinitely close to the primordial Yuan Feng, and in a certain sense, even stronger than the Ancient Sacred Body.

In terms of background, she was the disciple of the Emperor Monarch, inheriting immortal techniques from the start of her cultivation, something Ye Chen couldn't compare to.

In terms of cultivation, she had been a saint for a hundred years, her realm at a bottleneck, just a step away from Quasi-Sacred King, making her stronger than Ye Chen.

Yet, she had lost, defeated utterly despite her advantages, turning her pride into a joke.

She had underestimated Ye Chen—his mindset, combat skills, and breadth of vision all crushed hers, making defeat inevitable.

There are always people beyond people, mountains beyond mountains; this era was extraordinary.

Once again, she shook her head helplessly. From a young age, she had stood at the peak, but standing too high had narrowed her vision.

As she thought this, she restrained her aura and followed him inside.

That boy Ye Chen was too fierce, and his strikes were merciless, leaving her severely injured and in need of time to recover.

Deep in Jie Ming Shan, Ye Chen walked slowly until he reached the small bamboo grove.

Di Huang was there, seated leisurely, a supreme Emperor Monarch in plain robes, with an air of immortality, quietly brewing tea.

"Junior Ye Chen greets the senior."

"Come, have a seat." Di Huang smiled faintly, his words gentle.

Ye Chen approached and sat opposite Di Huang once more, after half a year. Though he was a supreme being, he exuded no authority at all.

Ye Chen felt honored—a supreme figure personally pouring tea for him; if this got out, few would believe it.

Gazing at Ye Chen's haggard and weathered face, Di Huang couldn't help but sigh.

Ye Chen's current state was all his doing.

Supreme beings had their affections too; just as Di Huang loved Yue Shang deeply, so did Ye Chen love Chu Ling. Di Huang understood his state of mind.

But if given another chance, he would still not hesitate.

The only blame lay with the terrifying Six Paths of Reincarnation. This ruthless approach, though cruel, could save Ye Chen and help him achieve rebirth.

In ancient times, he had failed, and he didn't want Ye Chen to fail as well.

The old regrets had already wasted away his predecessors; he couldn't let future generations suffer the same fate, even if the methods were harsh.

"Senior, I have become a saint. Can I return to Zhu Tian now?" Ye Chen spoke, his voice hoarse and filled with weariness.

"Can you let her go?" Di Huang asked lightly, his words drawn out.

"I... I can let her go." Ye Chen replied, forcing a smile that was painfully strained, his heart aching faintly.

"Whether you can let go is determined by the heart, not the mouth."

"Junior has let go. Please, senior, allow me to face the trials."

"With your current state, I cannot let you go." Di Huang said flatly, with a hint of supreme authority.

"Then when can I return to Zhu Tian?" Ye Chen asked.

Di Huang said nothing, simply flicking his sleeve lightly. In the next instant, a woman appeared in the bamboo grove.

Upon closer inspection, it was Bai Zhi, his disciple.

Bai Zhi was taken aback. She had just entered her chamber to heal when Di Huang brought her here, not even giving her a chance to catch her breath.

It was a good thing she hadn't undressed, or it would have been awkward.

She was puzzled, unsure why her master had summoned her. Ye Chen was equally confused about what Di Huang was planning.

"When you can paint Bai Zhi, then you may face the trials."

Under their puzzled gazes, Di Huang rose and departed with a flick of his sleeve, his form fading step by step until he vanished.

Ye Chen frowned, surprised. Was it really that simple?

Bai Zhi's expression was equally strange. Had her master called her here to be a model? This was unexpectedly sudden.

Ye Chen had already taken out paper and brush, suspending them in mid-air.

Bai Zhi simply adjusted her hair and sat down. This was her first time doing something like this.

Ye Chen's eyes were calm, his expression devoid of any emotion. He glanced at Bai Zhi and then began to paint with focus.

Bai Zhi remained expressionless, like a statue, not moving an inch.

Occasionally, she would lift her eyes and subtly glance at Ye Chen.

All along, she had taken her master as her goal, once vowing that one day she would surpass her teacher.

But the appearance of Ye Chen had given her a new target.

In the struggle for the emperor's path, only by defeating him could she reach the peak, and only then would she be qualified to surpass Di Huang.

The bamboo grove fell into silence, with only gentle breezes rustling through.

One sat, one painted—this scene was somewhat eerie.

Not long ago, the two had been battling fiercely outside Jie Ming Shan.

Now, in such a short time, they were like this, the atmosphere awkwardly tense. Being stared at by this man felt unnatural.

If not for her master's order, she wouldn't be sitting here obediently.

Time passed second by second. Ye Chen's brush moved with divine speed, stroke after stroke without pause, flowing seamlessly.

On the white scroll, the outline of a woman had begun to take shape.

Ye Chen's painting skills were impressive, capturing her vividly—every frown, every smile, every strand of hair, all lifelike.

He didn't know when, but he finally stopped, staring blankly at his work, his expression dazed, his eyes misty.

"Have you not finished painting yet?" Bai Zhi glanced at Ye Chen.

Ye Chen said nothing, as if he hadn't heard, still looking at the painting. Teardrops could be seen glimmering in his eyes.

Bai Zhi frowned. What was this about? Painting and now crying?

Or was it that she looked so stunning?

Ye Chen smiled and subconsciously raised his hand, gently touching the scroll, his eyes full of tenderness, as if gazing at his own wife.

"Since it's done, I'll be leaving." Bai Zhi couldn't sit any longer and stood up, her steps graceful and ethereal.

Perhaps curiosity drove her; as she passed Ye Chen, she instinctively turned her head and glanced at the painting.

She wanted to see how Ye Chen had portrayed her, to make him stare so intently and even shed tears.

But one look was all it took, and she froze on the spot.

The figure on the painting wasn't her at all—it was another woman.

More precisely, it was Chu Ling from the Nai He Bridge deity.

For a moment, Bai Zhi's chest heaved with anger, sparks flashing in her eyes, as if she were on the verge of exploding.

I'm just sitting here idly for so long, and you're painting another woman based on my likeness? How infuriating!

I just want to ask, what's the point of me being here? To entertain you? If you weren't painting me, you could have said so earlier!

The silent Ye Chen was lost in his own world, unaware of Bai Zhi watching him or her predatory gaze.

He continued to stare at the painting, the one of Chu Ling.

He didn't know how, but though he was meant to paint Bai Zhi, he had inexplicably created Chu Ling, capturing her perfectly.

Clearly, he couldn't forget Chu Ling, nor could he let go of his most beloved woman. Even in painting, he depicted her image.

How could he let go? She was the one he loved most, their three hundred years of fate—how could he simply release it? He knew he couldn't.