A mocking expression touched the corner of the middle-aged steward's mouth. Without even going in to check, he immediately drew a large X on the results sheet in his hand, his face a mask of disdain.
That trace of apprehension he previously felt toward Ye Xuan had now vanished completely.
Meanwhile, Ye Xuan had already arrived at the final, third trial.
This third trial was, surprisingly, a painting.
At the back of the hall hung an enormous painting. It depicted a river flowing into the distance. With just a few simple brushstrokes, it perfectly captured the majestic momentum of a great river surging eastward.
Before Ye Xuan stood a desk, and upon it were a brush, ink, paper, and an inkstone. This third trial required the student to create a new painting based on the one before them.
'This third trial is actually a test of artistic skill?'
