You rascal, stop right there!

"Master Bai, why did you learn painting back then?"

The young man who asked the question was named Yang Guang. He couldn't believe that the portrait of Zhong Kui on the wall could be drawn by a mortal with a wire drawing pen.

The lines are smooth, and the red robe and angry eyes give off a majestic aura.

Hanging it in the middle looks like it is guarded by gods and ghosts, protecting the house from evil spirits.

While hesitating, Bai Wan stroked the long scroll on the wall, a smile on her face, and said only a few words softly: "I don't know..."

"How could you not know?"

Several teenagers couldn't help but ask with complaints.

When they learned that all thirty murals in the White Deer Grotto Academy were painted by this painter, they could hardly contain themselves.

During this period, there were "Pictures of Officials", "72 Lists of Gods and Immortals", "Gate of Confucius", "Pictures of Immortals", etc.

Every student who enters the academy is amazed.

Bai Wan looked at the young man in front of him. He seemed to be only seven or eight years old, young and orderly, just like an old friend.

"Don't ask so many questions, kid. Just do whatever you want now. Don't worry about it, and don't follow any rules!"

But I thought to myself that once you start worrying, you won’t be able to accomplish anything.

The teenagers were confused and felt completely bewildered.

Ling Shumo laughed and said that this person was too casual, how could he teach others not to follow the rules!

If I really take in apprentices, I'm afraid I'll end up with a bunch of rogue painters!

Young Yang Guang's reaction was, "Master Bai, no matter what the tuition fee is, you really won't accept any students?"

He still didn't give up.

But “not to be spread” means not to be spread!

Bai Wan looked at him speechlessly, half squatted down, and hit the boy's forehead with a walnut.

He uttered another cold sentence: "No!"

Then he turned around and walked out the door as if nothing had happened.

No one could understand the man's expression, they just felt that his back looked a little desolate.

Then, Ling Shumo found an excuse and suggested that the children drink Laba porridge together later.

In this way, the previous situation calmed down a lot.

The students were happily eating the Laba porridge that day, except Yang Guang who was still thinking about becoming his apprentice.

Little did he know that this painting master, Han Miaoran, was renowned throughout the world and had countless followers, but he could no longer accept any disciples...

The knot in one's heart cannot be untied easily.

Snow in January.

The plum blossoms on the cliffs of Bailu Mountain are in full bloom, their beauty blooming against the frost, and their swaying plainness exudes an indescribable loneliness.

Time in this world passes by so quickly.

There is still one month left before Emperor Qing ascends the throne.

Three days have passed since the summons was issued, and no one has found Han Miaoran's whereabouts.

Emperor Qing longed for Han Miaoran's best painting in the world and promised him a generous reward.

Many men of letters and scholars gathered in Caizhou, and officers and soldiers also offered rewards, as they all knew that this was the hometown of the Saint of Painting.

After all, it is a matter of great importance concerning the unification of the Three Kingdoms and the first map in the world.

Those who came to look for Han Miaoran to come to Beijing to paint the best painting in the world would go to great lengths to find him, even for fame and the generous reward promised by His Majesty.

At this time, a man with sword-like eyebrows raised and a fiery red official uniform on his body walked out of the sedan chair with the childishness of his former youth.

The young Chai Jin's painting skills improved rapidly at that time, and as a young painter with outstanding painting skills, he was admitted to the Daqing Painting Academy.

Now, he came here quickly as ordered to look for someone.

Chai Jin stood at the outer wall of the White Deer Grotto Academy and recognized it as the authentic work of the painting master almost at a glance.

The man held his breath, and a bluish-white shadow slanted across his face.

The painting skills on the thirty walls are impressive.

The Bai Lu Dong Academy in Guojia Village is well-known locally. It seems that painter Han has never left Caotang.

"Chai Shizhao, is it possible that Han Huasheng is in this Guojia Village?" asked the accompanying officers and soldiers behind him.

The man in red official uniform glanced sideways, his voice gentle but with a hint of loss:

"You should go to the surrounding counties first. How could Han Huasheng be in such a small mountain village?"