[Li Jiatu: She agreed to meet you.]

........

The next morning.

Lin Guang went alone to the top floor of the No. 1 teaching building in the core teaching area.

Following the address given by Principal Li Jiatu, Lin Guang exited the elevator, turned a few corners along that complex route, and arrived at a rarely used staircase located in a corner.

He descended the stairs, arriving at a passage theoretically on the fourth floor, but one he had never seen during regular classes, and after walking for a while, stopped in front of a corridor.

This corridor looked very austere, neither linking to any additional classrooms or other rooms, nor did it have windows, noisy notice boards, or glaring emergency lights on either side. Only cold metal wall panels extended all the way to the redwood door at the corridor's end.

Upon closer inspection, one would discover that this seemingly ancient redwood door was not an actual door but a painting hung there, quietly existing.

The wooden frame surrounding the painting appeared old and serene, with even slight signs of wear at the edges.

For some reason, it carried a forgotten loneliness.

Lin Guang took a deep breath.

Finally about to meet.

Kaelis' old friend, one of the reasons he chose Longteng University.

Who could it be?

Would this setup belong to someone he was familiar with?

Lin Guang walked step by step to the end of the corridor, looked at the door painted on the canvas, and without any hesitation or doubt, reached out to knock respectfully on the painting before directly placing his hand on the door handle depicted in the artwork.

Then, he pushed the door open and entered.

The next moment.

"…!!!"

Suddenly, the scene before Lin Guang's eyes rippled like water, light and shadow mingled and reshaped before his eyes, like ink splashed wantonly on rice paper, making it difficult for him to see anything clearly.

Even the Eye of Omniscience and Omnipotence, once activated, could hardly cover this trend.

In Lin Guang's perception, an indescribable spatial fluctuation accompanied by a unique scent of old scrolls and dried ink surged towards him amidst the chaos.

Unlike the lively sandalwood scent of the principal's office, this aroma was more silent, with a sense of the dust of time.

It seemed either a long time or only a moment had passed.

When he came to his senses, the surroundings had undergone a world-shaking change.

The rarely frequented corridor had disappeared.

At this moment, Lin Guang found himself standing in an ancient pavilion.

The pavilion's columns were directly made from unpolished trunks, with the natural textures and knots of the trees still intact on the surface, appearing primitive yet powerful.

Underfoot were gray-green stone slabs, with tenacious tufts of moss growing between the gaps.

The pavilion was built halfway up the mountain.

And from Lin Guang's current vantage point, he could see the scene outside the pavilion resembling an Immortal Realm.

Distant peaks towered imposingly, shrouded in clouds like an Immortal Realm, while nearby, ancient trees reached to the sky, their dense green shadows swaying gently. Sunlight pierced through the leaves' gaps, casting dappled light patterns on the ground.

The mountain wind, carrying moist vapor and the fresh scent of vegetation, blew in from all directions of the pavilion, stirring Lin Guang's coat and invigorating his spirit.

He admired the view for a few seconds before looking down at the center of the pavilion, directly in front of him.

There lay a dark-colored drawing desk, upon which several items were placed quietly.

A brush holder with wolf-hair brushes hanging from it.

Two paperweights carved with the Great Xia Divine Dragon.

And below, a sheet of snow-white rice paper.

— Paper, brushes, ink, and inkstone are known as the Four Treasures of the Study.

Yet here, there was paper and a brush, but ink and an inkstone were conspicuously absent.

What is this…?

At this moment.

A voice, whose origin was unknown, spread in Lin Guang's ear.

"Wield this brush and draw your heart."

"If it is unsightly..."

"There will be no next meeting."

The tone was indistinguishable as either joyous or furious, devoid of any emotion, like a man yet like a woman, like a sage yet like a sinner, like an elder yet like a child, noble yet casual, carrying an ancient quality.

Draw the heart?

Lin Guang was slightly taken aback.

According to the voice, apparently, it wasn't asking him to showcase his painting skills.

Drawing the heart... What does it mean?

With what to use as ink?

Heart, could it be Spiritual Power?

Or... True Intent?

Taking a deep breath, Lin Guang approached what seemed to be a drawing desk made of Yellow Flower Pear Wood, his gaze falling on the lone brush hanging from the brush holder.

The brush was made from dark hardwood, with a wolf-hair tip, appearing rather unremarkable.

But since it was placed here, it must have its reason.

Lin Guang extended his right hand, which had revealed a starlit hue.

Then.

As his fingertip touched the cool bamboo brush…

Lin Guang suddenly sensed the world before him change once more in an instant.

Even given the strength of his Spiritual Power at that moment, everything before his eyes spun like diffusing ink, becoming blurry.

In some indescribable abstract perception, he seemed to have fallen into an ink-colored river, composed purely of imageries.

He seemed to be running his fingers along the ridges of mountains, listening to water wave textures, observing the veins of vegetation, waving his hand to bring together and disperse clouds,

all five senses were within one painting.

This river carried with it heavy ink energy, precipitated and brewed over countless years, forcibly crashing into the depths of his consciousness. Thus, numerous experiences, knowledge, and some inexplicable strength began erupting in his heart like a flood, almost overwhelming his mind.

His sense of time began to blur.

Centuries passed in a single stroke, and millennia weren't worth mentioning.

At that moment.

Lin Guang, in the pavilion, held the brush, closed his eyes, and stayed still.

He stood there dumbfounded, seemingly transformed into a statue, allowing the endless ink flood to wash over his mind.