Luo Dingfeng waited anxiously, while Luthor continued to fan the flames, causing many people present to accuse him.

"Luo Dingfeng, have you found the so-called master? There are so many of us, do we want to accompany you to act here? Luthor scoffed.

"Master Luo, you are also a master, how can you do anything to suppress Master Luther?"

"Master Luthor is not wrong, you don't deserve to be compared to others."

"Is it so hard to admit that we are not as good as others? It is the deceitful people like you that make the international art world look down on us. ”

Several people in the calligraphy and painting circles who usually do not deal with Luo Dingfeng sneered and sneered.

"Shut up, which side of your ass are you sitting on? You want to say that my Lao Luo is inferior to others, and my Lao Luo admits it, but is it so difficult to admit that we are not as good as others? Put your fucking shit! Luo Dingfeng's temper was already hot, and he was anxious at this time, and he exploded at one point.

"We are not as good as others, am I wrong?" An old man in the oil painting world snorted coldly.

"Of course it's wrong, it's very wrong, are we really inferior to people? I have been in the Han Kingdom for 5,000 years, how brilliant are artistic achievements, it is because the rules are formulated by others, so they are aggrieved and pressed by others, if our artistic achievements are really worthless, then they rob us of so many calligraphy, paintings and sculptures, why don't we pay it back when we die? Luo Dingfeng roared angrily.

The noisy scene suddenly fell silent, some pondered, some guilty, and some dismissed.

"Don't talk nonsense, wait another five minutes, if the freehand sect master in your mouth hasn't appeared, even if you lose." Master Luthor felt that the atmosphere was changing, and immediately said coldly.

At this moment, Luo Dingfeng's mobile phone rang, and he immediately connected it, and soon showed ecstasy.

"Haha, it won't take five minutes, now let you see what the real freehand painting master is." Luo Dingfeng suddenly laughed heartily.

Luthor was startled and became apprehensive.

Could it be that there really is such a grandmaster in the East?

No, it can't be, he's definitely bluffing.

At this time, the large screen in the center of the exhibition hall lit up and the video connection began.

Soon, the video was connected, and everyone's eyes were wide open, looking expectant.

Yun Chuchu was the same, and even stretched her neck involuntarily, guessing what kind of person the master who was so in line with her state of mind was?

Is it an unkempt, unruly old man, or a gentle and elegant elder?

At this moment, a desk appeared on the large screen, and pen, ink, paper, and inkstone were placed on the table.

Suddenly, a hand appears in the camera.

It is a man's hand with a wide palm and slender fingers, full of power.

But apparently, this is a hand that belongs to a young man.

"Could it be that Master Han's assistant?"

"Surely it must be, Master Han can't be so young."

In the midst of the discussion, in the video, a deep voice suddenly came.

This voice, which seems to have been specially processed, is extremely rich and carries vicissitudes, as if it has experienced endless time.

"The contemptible surname is Han, I heard that there is a master Luther, saying that my painting is the work of Master Continental Randolph, it is a joke, and what is even more ridiculous is that there are many people who believe such a shoddy lie, may I ask, have your brains been kicked by a donkey?"

As soon as these words came out, everyone's brains were buzzing, and it really felt like they had been kicked by a donkey.

Immediately afterward, there was a monstrous uproar.

"This is Master Han?"

"If there really is a Master Han, it is impossible to be so young, and he has no quality to speak at all."

"I said earlier, there is no Master Han, it's just that Luo Dingfeng is dying and struggling."

Luthor was completely relieved at this time, and laughed mockingly: "Luo Dingfeng, this is the master you found?" It's better to find a decent person to pretend to be, and find a young man who doesn't show his face to pretend to be a ghost, and even a fool won't believe it. ”

Luo Dingfeng also sighed in his heart, and in his heart, he always thought that Master Han was an old man.

Seeing this young hand at this time, he couldn't help but hesitate for a moment, could it be that there was something wrong with Old Man Chen.

Seeing Luo Dingfeng's expression, Luthor was more sure of his thoughts, and said loudly: "Luo Dingfeng, you have wasted a lot of everyone's precious time, and I don't have time to mess around with you anymore, immediately kneel down and admit defeat, admit that you are cheating, and I will also take back this posthumous work of Master Randolph." ”

Luo Dingfeng's face changed, and at this time, he had no way to call Old Man Chen for verification, so he had to be ruthless and said, "Yes or no, let's talk about it after looking at the painting." ”

"Okay, then ask this master Han to paint, so that the whole world can appreciate the masterpiece of this master Han in the ancient orient, presumably, even a few hundred years later, this will become a joke in the international art world." Luther laughed.

At the scene, some people who originally had hope were also cool and cool in their hearts.

Including Yun Chuchu, they all showed disappointment.

The hand, which only appears in the video, is too far from the image in her heart.

At this moment, the hand in the video lifted the pen and landed on the drawing paper.

Just this one action made everyone who watched feel as if there was a breath of qi rushing straight to their heads, making their scalps tingle and their pores shrinking.

It's a potential!

Ancient poems have clouds, the pen is shocking, and the poems become weeping ghosts and gods!

Many people think that this is an exaggeration, but at the moment, they do feel that way.

The pen in his hand drew quickly on the paper.

What he painted did not seem to be paintings, but the way of heaven and earth.

In the exhibition hall, there was silence, and everyone seemed to have forgotten to breathe, holding their breath all the time without realizing it.

It seemed like a long time, and it seemed like only a few seconds had passed.

Han Qing put away his pen, and a painting was already on the paper.

In the painting, there is a woman, and the face does not have too many details, but it is also a glance that makes people fall into that artistic conception.

The woman looked bright, but it made people feel a sense of sorrow.

Like a sunny sky, there is a storm below.

And in the midst of the storm, there was a bird struggling to break through the cage of the wind and rain and fly to the sun that was close at hand, but seemed to be unreachable.

This kind of artistic conception is more intense and more straightforward, and everyone seems to see their own shadow in it.

Yun Chuchu stared at the painting on the screen, tears rolling down like pearls with broken threads.

For some reason, she had an extremely strong feeling that the person in the painting was herself.

Others see their own shadow in the painting, but what she sees in the painting is the real self.

And Su Yu on the side also looked at the painting suspiciously, and then looked at Yun Chuchu, and in his heart, he also had such a feeling that Master Han painted Yun Chuchu.

However, it should not be possible......

At this moment, in the exhibition hall, there was a monstrous uproar.