Chapter 123: Jealousy and Rivalry

Chapter 123: Jealousy and Rivalry

The clamor subsided into a heavy silence. Throughout the vast imperial palace, everyone seemed to have ceased breathing; not a whisper could be heard. All eyes darted back and forth between Wu Hong and the masterpiece that defied mortal origins.

In this moment, they had witnessed a true miracle. A flamboyant character, a beggar, a prince, and a divine goddess—all these disparate elements had been woven together by none other than the newly appointed Prince of Wuwei.

"Oh—it seems my work is not quite up to par," Wu Hong sighed to himself, breaking the silence. "You all have such a reaction, so I must have lost, right?"

The corpulent envoy suddenly rushed toward Wu Hong and bowed deeply. "Ah, Master! How could my painting skills ever be mentioned in the same breath as a work as divine as yours? You humble me to the point of shame!"

The envoy’s sudden outburst jolted the crowd back to reality. The once-haughty man was now utterly defeated, his admiration sincere. This work was a match made in heaven—it had summoned a snow lotus from the sky, a phenomenon known as the manifestation of a Literary Saint. How could his amateur efforts possibly compare to Wu Hong’s creation?

There was no need for the impromptu judges to announce a winner; the disparity was glaringly obvious. If the envoy’s portrait of the palace beauties was a renowned work, then Wu Hong’s painting was a peerless treasure, a singular masterpiece for the ages.

Guards carefully carried the canvas off the martial stage and presented it to the officials. The painting was not only hyper-realistic, but the goddess depicted within seemed to possess a living spirit. Furthermore, those with internal martial cultivation realized that by gazing intently at the image, their own vital energy circulated with newfound fluidity, leaving their entire bodies invigorated, as if their very souls had been cleansed.

The crowd erupted in hushed exclamations of awe. Had Emperor Yangwei not remained motionless, the officials would have long since rushed forward to examine the work in detail. Even so, the air was thick with fervent discussion.

The stout envoy, once so arrogant that he looked down upon all the world’s scholars and beauties, felt utterly vanquished. He had never believed himself capable of being captivated by a woman, yet today, he was completely enthralled by Wu Songran. He felt a deep, intoxicating yearning, thinking that if he could only win such a woman as his wife, his life would be complete.

Had those who knew the envoy well witnessed this, they would have been so shocked their jaws would have hit the floor. The envoy practiced a unique discipline where his martial cultivation rose in tandem with his proficiency in the arts. Since reaching the mid-stage of Marrow Cleansing, he had few rivals, and even the works of famous masters were only marginally superior to his own. Yet, Wu Hong’s "Goddess Portrait" had shattered his every confidence.

Emperor Yangwei smiled and said, "Brother, I never imagined you possessed such cultivation and artistic skill. You have truly stunned us mere mortals!"

The Emperor spoke his honest thoughts. He knew Wu Hong was powerful, but he never expected him to trigger a heavenly tribulation through a painting. Though the lightning eventually dispersed, Yangwei knew Wu Hong’s strength was now effectively unrivaled beneath the Pre-Heaven realm. Even ten thousand elite soldiers at the Marrow Cleansing stage would likely be helpless against him.

A cold sweat broke out on Yangwei’s back as he recalled the many schemes he had devised to deal with Wu Hong. The sheer magnitude of Wu Hong’s power had rendered them all obsolete. Sometimes, absolute strength was more direct than any conspiracy. He felt a secret sense of relief that he had not recklessly offended Wu Hong.

"Your Majesty, you are too kind," Wu Hong replied modestly. "My skills are crude, merely a parlor trick. I am unworthy of such praise."

To some, this humility felt excessive. *Damn it! Your painting summoned a heavenly phenomenon and a tribulation that nearly leveled the palace, and you call it a parlor trick? How are we supposed to live with that?*

"Big Brother Hong, who is this goddess you painted?" Wu Songran asked, jumping in front of him with excitement.

Most would have expected a vague, poetic answer about a dream-maiden, as it was hard to believe such a woman existed in reality. But Wu Hong’s answer left everyone stunned.

"Ah, this lady... well, it’s like this—she is a friend of mine..." Wu Hong stammered.

In his heart, Wu Hong cherished Zhou Ling'er, though she had always been cold toward him. They had only met twice, yet her image was etched into his soul. Feeling guilty for his feelings toward her in light of Wu Songran’s sincere affection, he stumbled over his words before telling the truth.

"Hehe—Handsome, is this beauty another one of your lovers? She is quite striking, indeed," a girl in green remarked, walking over to pat the dazed Wu Songran on the shoulder. Her tone was provocatively flirtatious, making the hot-blooded generals present feel quite uncomfortable.

Wu Hong, in particular, was suffering. His *Great Sun Tathagata True Interpretation* had a tendency to react to beautiful women by radiating energy throughout his body, specifically targeting certain parts. If not for his sturdy armor, his physical state would have been a public embarrassment. His face flushed crimson.

"Oh? Our beloved Prince is blushing? Shall I invite myself to your chambers tonight to discuss the important matters of life?" the girl teased.

"Ugh, Big Brother Hong, why do I smell something musky? Are you alright? Did some foul energy enter your body? Why is your face so red?" Wu Songran asked, suddenly snapping back to reality.

"Giggle—Little sister, you smell quite fragrant yourself! Look at that stout envoy; he’s staring right at you. Shall I play matchmaker? Why don't you let me have your sweetheart for a few days?"

The girl’s words were brazen and lascivious. The crowd watched the spectacle in silence, content to observe. Wu Songran looked at the envoy and saw him staring at her with a flushed face. "Fatty! Why do you keep looking at me? I’ll dig your eyes out if you don't stop!"

The envoy suddenly rushed toward Wu Songran. Wu Hong tensed, but seeing no killing intent, he remained calm. To everyone's shock, the envoy fell to his knees before Wu Hong. "Master, please take me as your disciple! I don't even ask to be taught your techniques; I only wish to serve by your side while you paint. Please, accept me!"

The envoy’s plea stunned the court, though they soon understood. Many of the elderly scholars present would have done the same had their status allowed, for Wu Hong’s display of skill was unmatched.

"I tell you, my skills are truly crude. I have nothing to teach you," Wu Hong said, feeling awkward.

To some, this seemed like a natural refusal—how could such divine talent be easily taught? Yet, they were actually misjudging him. Wu Hong’s painting was magical, but his actual knowledge of art was limited. The masterpiece was the result of his masterful control over his internal energy and his deep spiritual insights. If one were to examine the brushwork closely, it was actually inferior to the envoy’s. However, in terms of artistic conception, it was leagues ahead.

"Master! You cannot refuse me! I’ll even be a servant in your Prince of Wuwei’s mansion! Please, don't turn me away!" The envoy shamelessly clung to Wu Hong’s leg, weeping, his scholarly air vanished entirely, leaving the onlookers completely dumbfounded.