Almighty painter

Chapter 1074 Where is the Sacred Mountain?
Gu Weijing stared at the system page for a long time.

He had thought about it many times: what was the final obstacle the system had placed in front of him, and what kind of demanding breakthrough tasks he would need to complete to break through to the final level?

He anticipated that it would be an extremely difficult task.

I even thought that this might be like the task that the Jade Emperor assigned to Sun Wukong in "Journey to the West"—wait until the chickens have pecked away all the rice in the mountain, wait until the dogs have licked away all the noodles in the mountain, wait until the flames of the lamp have burned through the iron chains, and only then should it rain... only then should he break through to the third level of the Master realm.

I didn't expect the system to be so simple and straightforward.

This task is extremely simple. No matter how you look at it, whether horizontally or vertically, and carefully read through the text, the task panel ultimately boils down to just three words:

"You have to pay more."

It is indeed an episode of "Journey to the West," but it is not about Sun Wukong meeting the Jade Emperor. Instead, it is about Tang Sanzang going to Mount Ling, enduring countless hardships, and finally arriving in the Western Paradise. Amidst the rosy clouds and auspicious mist, the two Venerables Ananda and Kasyapa bring out hundreds or thousands of scrolls of scriptures, prompting Tang Sanzang to stretch out his arms and read through the entire table of contents.

Then ask him a question in return.

"Holy monk, what gifts or ceremonies have you brought to see us off since you came from the East?"

Gu Weijing could only smile and say, "Disciple Xuanzang has traveled a long way and has not been prepared!"

It's not that Gu Weijing was poor.

Rather, this "true scripture" is simply too expensive.

According to statistics from external wealth magazines, Gu Weijing's current net worth is approximately between 200M and 300M, which is about 2 million to 3 million US dollars.

This number is calculated quite accurately.

Although the media outside the media are unaware of Gu Weijing's debt situation, they have also failed to calculate the income from "Detective Cat". Gu Weijing calculated that, including his shares in the Ma Shi Gallery and the trendy toy company, even without considering the income from "Oil Painting" magazine, his personal net worth should be around 2 million US dollars.

Seven years after graduating from university, he has earned so much money in such a poor industry.

have to say.

It was a miracle. Gu Weijing was one of the richest painters of his time, but $450 million was still too much. It was more than twice his personal assets. Even if he borrowed from everyone he could, he still couldn't raise that much money.

The $3000 million he donated before was the largest sum of money Gu Weijing could afford. Now, even if someone were to shake his pants leg upside down, at most a few hundred thousand would be shaken out.

Let’s take a step back.

If Gu Weijing really had $4.5 million in cash, would the first thing he think of be donating it all to unlock the "ultimate realm of art"?

Gu Weijing is a person who loves art.

Gu Weijing might not be that passionate about art after all! He has $3500 million in savings on him, enough for him to play a hand of Hunter Bourges and see who comes out on top. In any case, $3500 million is hardly a drop in the ocean, and certainly not enough to alleviate the risk of Gu Weijing defaulting on his debts.

But if Gu Weijing had a stash of $4.5 million hidden on him, his first reaction would definitely be to quickly write a check and return the money to Maestro III.

The pressure of accumulating huge debts is truly keeping me up at night.

If we invest the rest of the money, it might be enough to make the name "Gu Weijing" a hot topic in the market.

Once everyone's confidence is restored.

Therefore, it's not impossible for the name "Gu Weijing" to have an influence comparable to that of "Leonardo da Vinci," and it's even possible that one day one of his paintings could sell for the price of "Salvator Mundi."

When time comes, heaven and earth all work together.

When luck is gone, the hero is not free.

As criticism of Gu Weijing grows, his need for funds also increases.

This is reality.

……

Gu Weijing closed the system panel.

He closed his eyes, facing the twilight outside the window, and meditated quietly for ten minutes by the chair, letting all his distracting thoughts return to calm. Then, he opened his eyes again and stepped into his studio.

"First, you need a canvas."

Just how big is this canvas?

10 feet by 8 feet? No, no, no, that would be far too big.

Gu Weijing did not want his auction to become some kind of spectacle of a "land of giants".

Although some jokingly say that auctions are a game of size comparison, generally speaking, larger works will sell for more money.

But a painter can't simply sell a painting for $1.5 million just because it's "big." Just like a large potato might sell for a higher price than a small potato, it can never actually sell for the price of gold.

The entire auction should have just one giant oil painting of "The Human Comedy". Too many paintings would make the whole thing look unfocused and like a giant with intellectual disabilities.

and.

Against an opponent like Hunter Bull, a large, uninspired painting might actually give him an opening. The same principle applies to boxing.

Facing an opponent who is taller and has a longer reach in the boxing ring, and engaging in long-range, open-space exchanges of punches, is not a very smart strategy. You swing your arm wide, trying to unleash a powerful punch, but before your hook is even halfway through its swing, your opponent delivers a powerful backflip to your face, knocking you out.

To successfully overwhelm the opponent in terms of sheer scale, one must either maximize the advantage of "size"—not just by a few meters by a few meters, but by creating an entire art space, like Ma Liang painting a magnificent palace on a canvas, such as Michelangelo's ceiling paintings or Damien Hirst's giant installation art in Venice.

Michelangelo spent ten years painting "The Creation of Adam".

Hearst put on that private art exhibition for a full ten years after the 08 financial crisis.

Gu Weijing clearly didn't have ten years to prepare; he only had less than ten months to weave a giant net for himself with golden threads, pinning the hearts of collectors to his canvas like moths to a flame.

and so.

He needs some "faster" work.

In this situation, abandoning the advantage of being "big" and instead rushing in, charging into the opponent's embrace, and throwing small but fierce short jabs, is actually a wiser tactic.

No, no.

It's not a jab, it's a rapier swing.

Gu Weijing held the paintbrush as if it were a swift, gleaming silver sword; he wanted to nimbly rush in and leave a red mark on Hunter Bull's chest.

It was a tiny wound, barely bleeding, yet deadly enough.

To achieve this effect, Gu Weijing's paintings had to resemble the swift swords used in 19th-century court duels.

Slender, elegant, and dexterous.

And it is sturdy enough.

Gu Weijing quickly abandoned measuring his work in units like feet, as this unit of measurement was too crude for the blade of a rapier.

A "ten-foot" blade? That's not a blade.

That's the city wall.

Ten inches is a suitable unit. Ten inches by six inches is a little small, but it is very close to the size of the No. 3 standard canvas used by old-fashioned art supply vendors. This is the smallest model among the common canvas sizes circulating in the market.

Defeat enemies like Hunter Bull.

Your paintings must be strong enough. A painter should be like a blacksmith removing impurities from pig iron, repeatedly hammering a piece of iron back and forth hundreds and thousands of times, storing the strongest brushstrokes in the smallest canvas—hmm, next time a reporter comes to interview me, I can say that to them.

Gu Weijing had this thought in his mind.

He took out a stapler and an easel, and began to stretch the prepared canvas onto the easel before applying a base coat to the canvas.

Gu Weijing hadn't done these miscellaneous tasks himself for a very long time.

His management team consists of more than just Anna, and his personal assistants are far more than just the lame Uncle Ale. The Maes Gallery has provided him with a professional team of more than ten people, which is a much more streamlined result compared to the hundreds of people that Hearst reportedly had with Gagosian.

Gu Weijing only needs to focus his attention on the most crucial and artistically creative work.

Just like F1 drivers should focus their energy entirely on choosing their lines when cornering, practicing changing tires with a tire gun is obviously not something they need to think about.

This time, Gu Weijing didn't ask anyone for help.

He treated it as a solemn ritual before painting, like a swordsman polishing his blade with oil. Gu Weijing was trying to cultivate an emotional connection with the canvas.

"Ow!"

The cats sunbathing by the studio window heard the sound, turned their heads, glanced at it, then turned back around out of boredom and leisurely licked their fur in front of their reflection in the windowpane.

I've learned something new.

Now I know what a canvas is called, meow.

Gu Weijing withdrew his hand and gently pursed his bleeding finger between his lips.

Ok.

It has to be admitted that some things really require practice. He had done the process of stretching the canvas hundreds of times when he was young. He never expected that he would turn around and become a proper painter.

However, because he hadn't done such odd jobs for so long, his skills had become quite rusty.

When stretching a canvas, place the inner frame in the center of the canvas, fix one side first, then fix the opposite side, and finally fix the other two sides of the canvas in the same order.

The theory is correct, but Gu Weijing didn't nail it in properly. When he was struggling to pull the canvas to one side, the canvas stretched open on the spot. He subconsciously tried to grab it, but his fingers pressed directly on the tip of the stretched nail.

The skin was pierced immediately.

Before Hunter Bull could even cry out in pain from the sharp sword forged by Gu Weijing, Gu Weijing himself had already given up his first blood.

"It's alright, this is a good omen!"

Gu Weijing offered an optimistic interpretation, explaining that according to the theory in his grandfather Gu's favorite martial arts novels, this was the blood oath ceremony before the divine weapon was born.

Strange phenomena have appeared in the heavens and earth.

Hunter Bull was ready to run away.

Gu Weijing waited for the base coat to dilute in the small bucket to the concentration of whole milk, then took out a wide flat brush and brushed it layer by layer until every corner of the canvas stretched on the easel was covered with white base coat.

He put the easel aside, waited for the base coat he had applied to dry completely, and then sanded it from beginning to end with fine sandpaper.

rustling.

The lead-white dust fell softly down the canvas, like sand being blown up on a beach by the wind.

After waiting for the entire coat of paint to become even and smooth, Gu Weijing took the paint bucket and a wide flat brush and began to apply the second coat of base coat.

This is true three times.

This step alone took Gu Weijing an entire night. After each coat of base coat, Gu Weijing had to wait one to two hours for the white paint to dry completely before he could sand it.

Gu Weijing was initially a little irritable, especially since the wound from the nail piercing was not deep, but it still hurt a bit when he exerted force.

He considered himself a prime example of someone who deliberately seeks suffering and endures hardship, but when he was polishing the canvas for the second time, Gu Weijing had become calm and composed.

The repetitive work, the repetitive rustling sound, like the white noise of rain used in meditation, brought Gu Weijing a repetitive peace. It made Gu Weijing feel as if he had returned to his childhood, sitting in his small bedroom, with the water of the Yangon River flowing in through the cracks in the open window.

rustling.

rustling.

Many years ago, a painting by Gu Weijing sold for ten dollars; many years later, a painting by Gu Weijing can sell for 1000 million dollars, or even 2000 million dollars.

A difference of 100 million times.

One million. Read it aloud, write it down on paper. What a terrifying gap that would be!

This is the difference between a drop of water and a river.

The sound of sanding the primer was indistinguishable, just "shh shh shh," "shh shh shh," "shh shh shh." Time slipped away quietly amidst the flying paint fragments, turning Gu Weijing's bandaged fingertips white.

In such quiet, you can think about many, many things.

such as……

A Ferrari parked in front of my house.

Gu Weijing has never been a person who likes driving, but Gu Tongxiang does.

That was a gift he gave to his grandfather.

He once gifted his grandfather a DSLR camera, which his grandfather accepted. Later, when he had more money, he gifted his grandfather a red Ferrari a few years ago. It was a limited edition sports car, not as extravagant as some classic cars, but with options and taxes, the car cost over 70 euros. One car could buy many private jets.

Grandpa didn't accept it.

Gu Weijing asked him, "Didn't Grandpa love this the most when he was a child?"

Why not accept it?
Since the purchase has already been made, there's really no need to try to save him money.

The old man, Gu Tongxiang, gave an interesting answer: he said it wasn't cool enough.

This car isn't cool enough.

Gu Weijing could only smile wryly on the spot. If this car wasn't cool and stylish enough, then the old man might have to go and get Schumacher's racing car to be satisfied.

(End of this chapter)