Li Changqing remembered reading a phrase like this in a textbook when he was in school.
Talented people often perish because of their talents.
He never really understood why such people would die due to their abilities, but now he finally got it.
As a woodcarver, being killed by his own sculpture falling off a shelf was indeed a case of dying by one’s own skill.
Yet, at the moment of his last breath, all Li Changqing felt was relief.
He had been obsessed with carving all his life, reaching an extraordinary level of mastery, but this skill never brought him a beautiful life.
When his wife fell seriously ill, he had no money for treatment, and she eventually passed away. His only son grew up mixing with unsavory friends, lazing around, constantly asking for money, stealing valuable items from home to sell, and getting arrested was a common occurrence.
A few days ago, his son even punched him and used harsh words just because he had no money to give, making Li Changqing feel as if his life was a complete failure.
Death might be a form of release.
...
Minghong State, Changting Town.
With a loud crash, a nearly thousand-year-old tree in the center of Changting Town was struck and burned by lightning, finally bringing a three-day torrential downpour to an end.
It had been years since Changting Town had seen such heavy rain.
In a corner of Cyan Cloud Square in Changting Town, there was an unassuming shop with a sign that read four characters.
Evergreen Painting Workshop.
The storefront was somewhat rundown, and the location was poor. Behind the shop was a small courtyard, inside which a silhouette opened a window and looked outside.
"Finally stopped."
The speaker was a middle-aged man, unkempt and haggard, looking as if he hadn’t eaten for days.
Li Changqing didn’t imagine that after being killed by his woodcarving, he would transmigrate to this mystical world, taking over the body of someone who had just died.
When he first arrived in this world, Li Changqing was befuddled.
Although he had read many novels in his past life and knew about transmigration, Li Changqing was bewildered by the fact that others usually inherit the original host’s memories, but he inherited nothing at all.
All he knew was that the original host died from a heart attack, most likely due to sudden anger.
Moreover, ever since he arrived here, torrential rain had been pouring nonstop, preventing Li Changqing from going out.
After searching the house, he found no food. There was some silver, but silver couldn’t be eaten, and with the heavy rain outside, there was nowhere to buy anything, leaving Li Changqing starving for three days. He feared he might starve to death at home just after transmigrating.
Thankfully, the rain stopped today, so Li Changqing could finally go out to buy food.
However, during the three days at home, Li Changqing wasn’t completely in the dark. He found a lot of written information left by the original host and, through reading, learned a bit about this world.
In this world, martial arts were flourishing, and there were cultivators, but the cultivation methods here surprised Li Changqing.
Martial artists enter realms through paintings, gaining enlightenment from them.
Someone viewed a painting of the Bull Shaking the Mountain Map and enlightened the "Mountain-Breaking Force" technique from it, gaining the power to move mountains with bare hands!
Someone else saw a painting depicting a Cyan Cold Moon Saber and devised the "Cold Moon Divine Saber Skill," using it to slay alien races and becoming renowned far and wide.
Thus, in this world, the status of a painter was highly prestigious.
Those who could become painters could perceive the spirit of heaven and earth when holding a brush, cultivating themselves through spirit. The strength of the spirit determined the quality of the paintings.
Great painters possessed the enigmatic might of gods and ghosts, capable of stabilizing the heavens with a single painting and depicting the sky with a single stroke, wielding infinite power!
Therefore, possessing the qualifications to be a painter was truly one in a million.
The original Li Changqing in this world had shown the potential to grasp the spirit with a brush since childhood, aspiring to achieve the legendary status of a Painting Saint and stand at the pinnacle of this world.
Unfortunately, Li Changqing had the talent but not the opportunity—he had some ability, but it lacked substance.
From childhood to his thirties, he painted, but achieved little; once wealthy due to his family background, it had all been painted away, now living by running a painting workshop.
Even his only son had left home for over three years. According to some letters, Li Changqing knew his son Li Hengsheng was currently cultivating in a sect called Mountain Ancient Land.
The sad truth was that no one would buy his paintings because they were mediocre, and the concepts couldn’t be comprehended from them. Who would buy such paintings?
He sustained the painting workshop, living on the relief money sent by his son each month.
Li Changqing felt like his predecessor lived a truly failed life.
He had looked at the paintings in the workshop and, truthfully, they were very ordinary.
The paintings of beasts and such didn’t resemble their subjects at all—having form but no spirit, with rough details.
This was because in this world, painters couldn’t depict things they hadn’t seen, and for creatures like beasts, a painter like Li Changqing, with no strength, had no chance for close observation.
Unlike major powers, who would capture real beasts for their painters to observe as part of cultivating their own faction’s painters.
At the break of dawn, sunshine spread across the whole of Changting Town, and Li Changqing hurriedly took his silver and rushed out—he was starving.
If he didn’t eat, he really might die once more.
"Oh, Painter Li, where are you off to in such a hurry?" someone greeted him as soon as he stepped onto the street.
But Li Changqing didn’t recognize who it was, so he didn’t respond, instead quickly looking around the town for a place to eat.
Seeing that Li Changqing ignored him, the person just gave an awkward smile and didn’t mind.
Although Li Changqing was a rather useless painter, he was still a painter, enjoying higher status, and who knew when he might suddenly create a good painting and soar to success?
Everyone knew Li Changqing had once painted a picture that had allowed a disciple from an aristocratic family to cultivate from the Transcendent Realm to the Postnatal Realm.
This was something Li Changqing had boasted about for many years.
He mentioned it to everyone he met.
Someone approaching asked Li Changqing, "Painter Li, fancy meeting you here, have you eaten?"
Li Changqing replied, "Hmm? How did you know my painting helped someone reach the Postnatal Realm?"
Even the famous chatterbox Xiang Lin wouldn’t compare.
Along the way, there were constant greetings. Li Changqing either ignored them or nodded until, finally, after searching for a quarter-hour, he saw a street stall.
Breakfast was being sold, and many people were already eating there. The aroma wafted over, and Li Changqing’s stomach rumbled again.
Li Changqing sat down with a plop, quickly asking the stall owner to bring him food.
"Oh, Painter Li!" The stall owner was an honest middle-aged man, surprised to see Li Changqing.
Li Changqing was actually eating at his stall?
Normally, Li Changqing would never lower himself to eat at such a place; he usually dined at the town’s Jinhong Tower. What had happened today?
Even the other customers were a bit curious.
Seeing the stall owner in a daze, Li Changqing quickly said, "Boss, hurry up, anything will do, just get me some food quickly."
"Oh, oh, right!" The stall owner returned to his senses and promptly brought breakfast.
It was nothing more than some congee with side dishes and a little fried bread.
Li Changqing devoured it ravenously. After three days without eating, this congee and side dish felt like the best meal of his two lifetimes.
Just as Li Changqing was wolfing down his meal, he heard someone shouting from not far away, "Painter Li, you’re here! Saves me the trouble of going to your house. There’s a letter for you."
Li Changqing looked up to see a man in a purple robe walking over, carrying a huge box on his back. He rummaged through the box, then pulled out a letter and handed it to Li Changqing.
With his mouth full of fried bread and ignoring the grease on his hands, Li Changqing curiously took the letter and saw the name Li Hengsheng written on the envelope.
Was it from his son?