Two years later, in 569. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

More than 90 kilometers south of Nandu, there is a rather remote rural town. The town is sparsely populated, and most of them are the elderly, weak, sick and disabled who are left behind. Young men and women have rushed to the metropolis hundreds of miles away in search of a more comfortable life, and few can endure the poor, backward, and boring living environment in the rural towns.

Outside the town, next to the deserted road, there is an abandoned and broken thatched house.

It was evening dusk, but there was a light rain.

The rain flowed down the thatched eaves and fell in wisps, and the road surface at the entrance was already muddy and puddled. The four sides of the house were made of rotten wooden planks that were shining through, but fortunately there was no rain, otherwise even if you hid inside, you would have to get drenched in the rain.

The sky was overcast, and the light inside the thatched hut was dim and difficult to see.

"Pong. ”

A flame burst into the thatched hut, swaying, and then jumped to the ground and landed on a dry pyre that had appeared at some point. Usually, when the fire is lit, the flame will be darkened for a while, and then the flame will gradually rise higher. But I don't know what the nature of this flame is, as soon as it falls on the firewood, the fire does not abate, and the dry wood is ignited in an instant, and the fire is even stronger.

The immortal bird lay comfortably on the hay beside the fire, in a posture that made Wu Tian speechless......

The sketchboard was put aside by Wu Tian, and he looked at the drizzle outside the house, and his heart was peaceful.

In the past two years, Wu Tian has walked through many places with this sketchpad on his back, and every time he feels something, he will pick up his pen and put it into the painting. Because of his strong mental strength and incomparably attentive to his paintings, when others look at his paintings, they always have an illusion-like sense of 'immersion'.

Along the way, some good deeds have passed on the name of 'soul painter' to him.

In addition, he has also given paintings to several people who have fallen in love, about his painting skills, painting skills, and magic power...... 's various rumors, but the more they spread, the more mysterious they become. After becoming famous, his works were actually fried, and several of the paintings that were once given away by him have been acquired by some wealthy collectors through various means.

However, the person who got his gift of the painting, whether it was to sell the painting for money, or whether he was forced to make a move, Wu Tian actually didn't care much.

After all...... The reason why he would memorize a sketchpad and walk the world to paint as he wished was only because in the days of the past few years, he suddenly recalled himself in his first life, and remembered the ordinary young man named 'Wu Tian' who had been separated by two lives, and what was called 'dream' or 'ambition'.

There was a vague smile on the corner of Wu Tian's mouth, and he glanced at the drawing board resting on the ground beside him, on which were thick stacks of drawing paper, and on the white paper were pictures outlined by a special carbon pen: pedestrians, landscapes, nature, and cities......

Or freehand, or realistic. Wu Tian doesn't have a so-called painting style, and his only style may be his 'painting path', which is called 'soul painting technique'. However, it was just a by-product of his spiritual and magical cultivation, and Wu Tian didn't take it to heart.

'To become a great painter'...... Such a thing is no longer worth mentioning in his eyes now, but it was indeed the original dream in his heart back then.

As for why the 'original'...... Oh, after all, how can a young man's mind really be so unwavering, and he is not the protagonist of a juvenile comic. Within a few years, after recognizing his talents or limitations again and again, and experiencing the poison of various online novels at that time, the boy named 'Wu Tian' quickly changed his goal: 'Become an unconventional, best-selling and compelling writer'.

Closing his eyes, Wu Tian smiled dumbly, and the picture of the past drifted away in front of his eyes. This journey is not only a process of consummating the first life, but also a process of cutting off the worries of the first life in his heart. Two and a half years have passed, and now it seems...... The traces of the 'Wu Tian' in the first life in his heart are already very shallow. It's like footprints in the snow, and it won't be long before they will be buried by the wind and snow, and there will be no trace of it.

Opening his eyes, Wu Tian took out a notebook from his arms, flipped his wrist, and a Chenguang Heishui signature pen that he used to use when he was a student appeared. He flipped through his notebook, flipped to the place he had written last time, thought about it, picked up his pen and continued to write: [...... Sasuke Uchiha got out of school, and he didn't see his brother Itachi Uchiha come to pick him up, so he went home alone. …… The sky had just darkened, and the alley was already empty, and a sense of unease welled up in Sasuke Uchiha's heart......]

At this moment, a series of footsteps were heard at the door.

"Wow!" three people, two tall and one short, rushed in against the rain, seemingly pedestrians who came in to take shelter from the rain, and the rain outside was getting heavier.

One of the taller two patted the water on his body and complained: "What a sin!" Running to this kind of poor country, full of mud roads, it is difficult to walk to death...... It turned out to be a tall woman, looking at her bright clothes, extraordinary complexion, and a sense of fashion, probably from the metropolis.

"Okay, you've been complaining all the way!" the short man was helpless, "Didn't I hear that the 'soul painter' appeared near here, it just so happened that we were not far away, let's try our luck!"

"But it's just a painter, what's so good?" the woman was still dissatisfied, she glanced at a middle-aged man who was writing with his head bowed by the fire in the thatched hut, and found that the man was dressed plainly, with an ordinary temperament, and pouted in her heart.

The other person who came in was their bodyguard, and as soon as he entered, he carefully observed the environment in the room, and the only person in the room. He soon discovered a rather strange fact.

The inside of the house did not seem to be as bad as they thought: the thatched hut was deserted and dilapidated, but it did not have the strange smell of mold, although the light was permeated on all sides, there was not a trace of cold air seeping in, let alone rainwater, and although it was rainy, the dirt floor did not become damp and muddy, but very dry......

The short man exchanged glances with the bodyguard, who shook his head to indicate that there was no danger, and the man approached the fire with his female companion. Only then did I find that the middle-aged man next to the fire was writing something in a notebook with his head down.

When he tried to take a second look, he found that no matter how carefully he looked, he couldn't make out what was written in the man's notebook. There was only a shadow of vague handwriting, which flowed quickly into the pen, but it was impossible to distinguish what was written, as if it was covered with a layer of fog.

In his heart, the short man wanted to talk to the middle-aged man, but suddenly he had an inexplicable feeling in his heart, as if he felt that he shouldn't do this, so he simply stayed with his two companions silently.

"I don't know when the rain will stop!" muttered the woman with her arms folded.

"I wanted to wait in the car for the rain to stop, but you didn't want to come out to breathe on your own!" said the short man angrily.

After a while, the woman's gaze wandered freely, and suddenly she noticed a ...... sleeping on the hay by the fire A red dove! What a beautiful red dove, and the woman's eyes lit up, and she was about to point to the pigeon to say something, when the short man beside her exclaimed, "Oh my God......

The woman nodded: "Yes, my God, how can there be such a beautiful pigeon?"

The man didn't respond, the woman turned her head strangely, didn't see the man, looked down and saw that the man had squatted down, pouted and fell to the ground, looking at something carefully. When the woman looked in, it turned out to be a drawing board, and on this drawing board was a thick stack of paper, and on the top piece of paper, a picture of a small village drizzle was drawn......

When the short man saw this picture inadvertently, he thought he had arrived at the destination of this trip. When I came back to my senses, I realized that I was just staring at a painting. When I came back to my senses, I was shocked to realize that such a miraculous painting could only be made by the rumored 'soul painter'!

He rubbed his hands, strong thoughts were excited, even Wu Tian's suggestion thrown out of his hand couldn't stop him from accosting him, and the short man approached Wu Tian, who was writing next to the fire......

…………

He didn't want to be disturbed, so Wu Tian habitually arranged a trigger-type spiritual magic 'suggestion technique' around him, but since that person had already been accosted, Wu Tian would not completely reject people thousands of miles away.

After some conversation, Wu Tian learned that this short man was a well-known rich man in the southern capital, and his biggest hobby was collecting all kinds of famous paintings. The reason seems to be that this person aspired to become a great painter when he was a child, but his talent was dull and rotten wood could not be carved, and he finally started by writing books, entered the business road, and gradually had his current net worth. After becoming famous, men have not forgotten their dreams, since they can't paint themselves, then collect other people's masterpieces and enjoy them.

In the last year, he had heard of a wandering painter who had been praised by many people, and even in his collecting circles. The man was originally dismissive, but since he saw an authentic painting of the so-called 'soul painter' at a friend's house, he couldn't help but indulge in it. Over the past year, he has inquired about the traces of the 'soul painter' through various channels.

Wu Tian couldn't help but be a little amused when he heard it.

Seeing him smiling, the man looked nervous, and his eyes couldn't help but turn to the drawing board on the ground on the side, and asked tentatively, "Master...... Can I ...... That one...... Well...... Paying Respect...... Well, that'......"

"Feel free to take a look. Wu Tian said, reopened the notebook, and continued to write. The firelight shone on his face, and his calm expression flickered a little.

. (To be continued.) )