Chapter 105: Perfect Score [Bonus Update]

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The first round of the Grand Painter contest featured infant portraits once again, but unlike the preliminary round, the judging criteria this time were not based on spiritual affinity. Instead, it was about crafting a body tailored to a soul—akin to resurrection, yet not quite resurrection.

In an open-air venue hosting thousands, the weather was mild, neither cold nor warm, with a gentle breeze insufficient to disturb the paper. Every hundred participants shared one gestation pool. When one dipped their hand into the pool, a luminous pearl would automatically form in the palm—this was the manifestation of a soul.

This round lasted eight hours. Contestants could allocate their time freely—perhaps seven hours studying soul attributes and one hour painting, or one hour studying and seven hours painting. However, one rule was strict: any damage to even the slightest fragment of the soul during the study period would lead to immediate disqualification.

The sight of thousands of Grand Painters studying their pearls was quite spectacular. Most pressed the pearl to their forehead, using their consciousness to sense it; some held it up to the light; others muttered to themselves or chatted quietly.

Compared to others, Sang Sang possessed an almost unfairly powerful mind. The soul granted by the Master of Danxia carried no protective barrier, only a thin membrane of spiritual energy shielding it. Sensing the fluctuations of the soul was effortless for her. She memorized the soul’s attributes and fluctuation patterns, confirmed their accuracy, then returned the soul to the gestation pool and returned to her desk to paint.

Everyone else looked at her as if she were a fool.

Some sneered coldly: "A child so reckless, does she think none of the veterans here can sense soul fluctuations? Of course, the point is to familiarize oneself with the soul thoroughly, so as not to make pairing mistakes in the end."

Others worried: "Could the little one think the soul will just stay in the pool and not flee? Once returned, the soul goes back to the Danxia Sea. Only if the painting’s spiritual fluctuations closely resemble the soul’s can it attract reincarnation."

Sang Sang paid no heed to their comments. After a brief moment of thought, she began to paint.

Souls bore no distinction of gender, but their personalities varied. Some were innately gentle as water, others explosive like fire; some calm, some impatient; some sensitive and thoughtful, others careless and casual... Sang Sang chose the soul attribute of gentle as water.

In her painting was a boy, bearing a slight resemblance to Tom, with upward-tilted peach blossom eyes shimmering with light and a faint smile. Though still young, his future brilliance was already apparent.

While other Grand Painters continued sensing soul fluctuations by the pool, Sang Sang’s infant portrait was already immersed in water. Fellow contestants sharing the same pool turned their eyes to her, watching the colors in her painting grow richer and more three-dimensional. A small mole appeared on the boy’s forehead—bright red like fire—causing many to stare in astonishment.

“A perfect blood mole!”

This mole, absent in the original soul, was a hallmark of competition works. Black indicated a mismatched pairing; red signified correctness. The more vivid the color, the higher the correlation between the painting’s fluctuations and the soul’s.

The child was dressed in outer clothes and then carried by volunteer apprentices to the inspection platform. The child glanced left and right, with a dazzling red mole that captivated all eyes.

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“Surely the sun’s glare is playing tricks, mistaking dark red for bright crimson!”

Such thoughts were shared by not one but several.

The audience was ecstatic, especially when the inspection results came in—the child’s spiritual affinity was perfect, drawing loud cheers from the crowd.

At the end of this round, all incarnated children would be auctioned off for adoption on the spot. These children bore no inherited bloodline, neither father nor mother. Naturally, whoever adopted them was their guardian. The only drawback was that the Danxia Painting Academy would conduct follow-up inspections, making them even harder to raise than biological children. A single misstep could result in losing adoption rights—losing both child and money.

After finishing, Sang Sang left the arena. Upon returning to her dormitory, a volunteer apprentice informed her that someone was waiting for her in the reception room. Sang Sang initially thought it might be Yan Yanrong, but when she scanned with her consciousness, she was greeted by an unexpected figure.

“Teacher, what are you doing here?” Sang Sang entered the reception room. “Sorry, I came back late today because of the first round of the Grand Painter contest.”

The visitor was Elder Xing from Red Leaf City. Now rejuvenated, no longer an old man, he appeared to be in his forties, with bright, sharp eyes. Yet his mind was heavy with worry, his eyes bloodshot and sorrowful.

Upon hearing the voice, Xing Yubi looked up, noticing Sang Sang checking the time. His brow furrowed deeper. “The contest just started not long ago. Have you taken it seriously?”

Sang Sang nodded. “The first round was custom infant portraits, with a perfect blood mole.”

“Good.” Xing Yubi nodded, though the worry in his eyes remained. “Don’t relax. Try to win a higher rank. As long as you secure first place in either the Grand Painter or Grand Warrior contests, you can go to the Holy Palace. No noble family, no matter how powerful, can trouble you.”

Frowning, Sang Sang asked, “Teacher, is someone troubling you? Is it the Yun family?”

Xing Yubi pressed his lips tightly, clenched his fists. “Yes. Xiu’er is dead. None of the Grand Painters in the capital are willing to resurrect her. But Xiu’er’s situation is special—her body’s spiritual energy dissipates quickly, and her soul is injured. I worry she won’t last until tomorrow. Since you tend to leave contests early, I came here hoping you might help.”

Sang Sang barely sat down before standing again. “Where is Xiu’er? Regardless of anything else, I’ve recently gained quite a bit of experience in resurrection and have yet to fail.”

Xing Yubi breathed a sigh of relief. “She can’t be carried around. She’s in a secret chamber in the old mansion in the capital.”

Sang Sang summoned Snowball. Although the elder arrived by riding beast, Snowball’s speed was superior. Together, they mounted Snowball and set off.

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In the wealthy district west of the capital stood an aged old mansion. The yard was still overgrown with weeds, as the owners had met misfortune before tidying up could be finished. Snowball descended, and Xing Yubi was preparing to leap down using his qi when Sang Sang stopped him.

“Wait. Let me clear the little pests.” Sang Sang’s voice rang loud as thunder. “Today the Xing family is under my protection. Those who know their place should scram!”

From the grass, eaves, and trees, several figures darted out, blinking, then vanished into the neighborhood.

Xing Yubi’s expression changed drastically. “This is bad—Xiu’er!”

“Don’t worry. No one else is in the secret chamber besides Xiu’er.” Though Sang Sang said this, she released her grip, letting Xing Yubi jump from Snowball and run off. At the same time, she extended her hand downward. A massive spiritual energy palm formed high in the air, then slammed down fiercely.

“Those who don’t know their place, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

The pests hiding in the shadows, clutching at straws, finally felt fear. Attempting to flee was futile; the overwhelming pressure crushed them like a mountain, paralyzing their every step. They could only watch in terror as the spiritual giant palm descended.

“Pfft, pfft...”

With muffled sounds, intense spiritual fluctuations erupted from a remote corner of the mansion—the pests were flattened, their bodies instantly converted into spiritual energy scattering into the air, leaving no trace, not a strand of hair.

The elder entered the secret chamber and saw the ice coffin intact. Only then did he relax, though his chest felt as if it were bursting with pain. Lingering spiritual energy surrounded the girl, whose body visibly withered before their eyes. Beside her lay a stone brush, its usual luster gone, seeming fragile enough to crumble to dust with the slightest touch.

[Author’s note: Please support the story with your first votes, dear sisters! Next update at 8:10 PM tonight. (To be continued.)]