Forge a path to success

“My friend just happens to want to have his portrait drawn.” Chu Hengkong held up Fan De. “Would you mind helping out? It’s been looking forward to Jing Sha’s trip for a long time.”

Van der cooperated by making an expectant expression.

“Well…” the painter scratched his head. “Sure, of course. But I paint a bit slowly, you know. If the details are more detailed, you might have to wait more than half an hour.”

"I thought Jing Sha didn't value efficiency that much."

"Well, most of the time, that's how it is." The painter seemed quite pleased. "What style do you want?"

Van der spent a good while fiddling with himself on the small wooden table reserved for smaller guests, finally settling on a pose that made him look like an unknown totem poisoned by a deadly toxin. The painter spent about ten minutes preparing before actually putting brush to paper, and by the time the painting was finished, a whole high school class had passed.

“Your silver is hard to pinpoint!” the painter explained. “Slightly darker than mercury, lighter than precious metals, with a shimmering, starlight-like texture. Very unique, sir, you have a truly distinctive personality.”

Vande was pleasantly surprised: "You have a good eye, sir! When I was in school, my teachers all said my skin was beautiful, but since graduation, very few people have complimented me."

"Artists are always good at finding beauty in their surroundings." The painter turned the canvas around. "Are you satisfied?"

Even someone with Chu Hengkong's limited appreciation skills thought it was a truly excellent painting. The Van der Rohe in the painting seemed even more vivid than in reality, especially his smug look, which was captured perfectly.

Vande slapped his tentacles hard, and Chu Heng pulled out a handful of leaf-like "green branches," which were the change he had received at lunch.

"How many?"

“33 green branches…” the painter changed his mind, “30, sir.”

Chu Hengkong gave 60 green branches.

“Your drawing skills are quite good, you deserve more compensation,” he said. “Young people should have some self-confidence.”

The painter was pleasantly surprised. "Thank you! Although I don't make a living from this, thank you still."

I'm guessing you're a college student.

"Jingsha Public Art University, second year," the painter said proudly. "I use my free time to earn some pocket money and hone my painting skills. Many of the requests from clients are things you would never expect, and the more you paint, the more you learn."

"Very ambitious." Chu Hengkong handed him a bottle of juice. "To be honest, I don't quite understand. You have a good temper and your painting skills are also quite good. It's not like no one is interested in you."

Forty minutes of painting and 60 green branches were enough to get this introverted young man talking. He practically couldn't stop: "Sir, you're right, this certainly shouldn't be happening. Before, when I came here, there were always plenty of people waiting to have their paintings done, and you had to take a number to get one done. I charged 45 green branches for a painting! But...sigh..."

That resentment returned to his eyes. "I have to say, the masses lack discernment. They have a hard time distinguishing between 'good' and 'better,' and most of the time, they are satisfied as long as something is 'not bad.' That's why they are so popular."

The painter pointed to the crowd in the distance, and laughed as he spoke: "Root of the Divine Tree, do you see that fat guy? He's in the same grade as me, and that absent-minded guy failed three courses last semester! But now he's the darling of the masses, just because he can produce those 'not bad' things so quickly... I don't consider that a painting, sir. That's too insulting."

"That's quite unusual, but the world of motion sickness is never short of novelties. There's no need to get angry about it."

"I'm not angry..." the painter sighed, "Oh, who wouldn't be angry? This is fucking mad!"

He thanked him, shouldered his easel, and left. Van der handed the drawing paper to Chu Hengkong and commented, "A typical college student, adept at making himself angry."

"I can imagine you looked like this before you graduated."

“How could that be? I have a hundred times better temper than him, and I’m good at finding happiness for myself every day.” Van der climbed into his pocket. “Go check on that fat guy.”

Although the line for the fat painter was long, it moved quickly. In less than twenty minutes, the first seven customers had received their paintings and left, their hats stuffed full of the painter's hair. When he saw Van der, he exclaimed "Heh!" and gestured with his hand as if he were framing a painting.

"Sir, you have quite a distinctive appearance," the plump artist exclaimed in amazement. "That's challenging!"

"How so? Do I have to pay extra?" Vandra asked in a drawn-out tone.

"No, it's not that bad. Please wait a moment while I have a snack and catch my breath."

He took out an Inspiration Mushroom from his bag, ate it in a few bites, and immediately picked up his brush to start drawing.

Van der started to argue: "Hey, you didn't even ask the customer what style they wanted before you started."

"No, please wait a moment..."

The portly artist was also very friendly, turning the canvas around in less than two minutes. The white canvas was neatly divided into 16 squares, each depicting Van der Rohe in a different pose. Each square had a distinct style, and although some details still needed refinement, they were all quite good at first glance.

He drew 16 "good" pictures in just two minutes.

"Take a look, which style do you like? Once you've chosen, I'll add some details for you. If you don't like it, you don't have to pay."

Chapter 279 A Flow of Inspiration (2)

“Your hands are quite skillful, aren’t they? Are they for art-related prosthetic bodies?” Van der asked.

"If I were an upgraded individual, then I'd have to pay extra for the paintings. It's some other kind of 'trickery'," the chubby painter said. "Which one do you prefer?"

"Give me a cartoon style one."

The chubby artist spent about three minutes adding and refining details. Chu Hengkong noticed that he was much slower than when he was eating mushrooms; he was truly doing "fine-tuning" stroke by stroke. The finished product looked good, and the chubby artist asked for 20 green branches.

"That's really cheap." Chu Hengkong counted out exactly 20 jade branches for him. "Look, my friend is also an art enthusiast, and he's quite curious about your secret. Want to chat sometime?"

The chubby artist smacked his lips: "If you'd like, you can buy me a sandwich..."

"I'll treat you to two."

"You're so generous, thank you!"

It was getting late, and the chubby artist finished painting for another twenty minutes or so before packing up. His clothes weren't particularly stylish, and he was clearly a student earning a little extra money through part-time work. During their conversation, Chu Hengkong learned that his name was Kua Lu, that he came from a working-class family in the Fifth Lineage, that his grades were average, and that he planned to return to his hometown to work at an amusement park after graduation.

“That place is amazing, sir. If you come to Jingsha for tourism and don’t go, you’ll really miss out!” Khurru said, beaming as he talked about his hometown. “You can join any enthusiast for a thrilling legendary battle, brave the Devil’s House with your best buddies, scream on a roller coaster, drive a luxury car and do extreme racing—all the entertainment you can imagine is there, no exaggeration!”

"It sounds like it's more suitable for couples than for guys like us to travel."

“You’re overthinking it. Many of my classmates went in groups. Amusement parks are places that bring joy to everyone, and everyone can enjoy them.” Kwaru took a bite of half a sandwich. “There’s a huge demand for graphic designers there. I plan to accumulate more internship experience while I’m studying, so I’ll have something to talk about during interviews. Maybe I’ll get hired to design cards.”

“It’s a job that suits you, after all, you can draw 16 cards in two minutes.” Vande glanced sideways.

“You overestimate me. I don’t have that ability yet.” Kwaru pulled out an Inspiration Mushroom. “16 pictures in 2 minutes all thanks to mushrooms. If you eat one of these mushrooms, even a layman can achieve this speed—in fact, it can be faster and more, but the quality will be much lower, so I don’t recommend it.”

He handed the Inspiration Mushroom to Vande, and Chu Hengkong raised his eyebrows: "Young man, you really don't hold back."

"Look at what you're saying, what's there to hide!" Kwaru said cheerfully. "Such a useful mushroom isn't for me to keep to myself. In a few months, everyone will be using it. I'm just making a quick buck while it's fresh. Once everyone has one, it won't be so rare anymore."

He then enthusiastically shared several places to buy mushrooms, so that Chu Heng could bring some local specialties back to his hometown to show off. Vande initially didn't like the guy, but after chatting with him, he found the young man to be quite nice. Before leaving, he asked, "Young man, I have a question, please don't mind if it's offensive. Don't you feel uncomfortable using this thing? It sounds like someone else is painting your picture, it's a bit unsettling."

"Well... sir, what do you think the painting represents?"

"Artistic pursuits? Self-expression?" Chu Hengkong said.

“99% of painters tell you this, but I have to tell you, 100% of painters have a completely different idea in mind.” Kwaru looked around and exaggeratedly said, “Make a fortune and stand out from the crowd!”

“I truly believe that.”

“Both sets are available, and both sets are genuine. Those who value artistry would never want to eat mushrooms, but those who rely on painting to make a living would be happy to earn a few more coins,” Kwaru said with a grin. “Who knows, maybe everyone will be using mushrooms when I’m applying for a job, and then I’ll be experienced. If mushrooms aren’t popular again—it’s not like I don’t know how to paint, I’ll just do whatever I want.”

"I think you'll have a smooth job search," Chu Hengkong told him. "As long as your grades aren't bad, I'd be happy to hire you if I were recruiting someone new."

"Lend your blessings."

Each person bid farewell to the painter, Quaru, and turned to walk towards the bookstore. It was already evening, and pedestrians were bathed in the orange-red sunset, while street musicians began to play melodious tunes.

On their way, they ran into a high school letting out. A few childish boys, having eaten mushrooms, surrounded the girl and started playing their piccolo wildly. After they finished, they shouted, "I'm a musician! I'm a musician!"

The girl, who was carrying a violin and must have been a music student, turned red with anger at their behavior: "You dare call this music?!"

"I play better than you, are you convinced?"

The girl immediately rolled up her sleeves: "Fuck you! Crimson Sun Demon-Subduing Palm, kill!"

"Oh no, she hit someone! Teacher, someone laid a hand on me!" "Damn it, she's a point 2—" "A gentleman uses words, not fists!"

The little girl performed a set of Dragon Township Boxing techniques with great skill and flair, suggesting that the school's physical education teacher must be a martial arts practitioner from the Yueque Palace. Chu Hengkong watched the spectacle for a while, then heard Fan De say, "Dude, I don't think this is going to be easy."

Chu Hengkong remained noncommittal: "We'll talk about it when we get back."

·

Before even entering the bookstore, Chu Hengkong could already hear the murmurs inside. As he entered, he witnessed a venomous otter throwing a bottle into the pool, which a large seal caught with its paw and now sat by the edge, staring wide-eyed. The two animals, vastly different in size, were locked in a fierce confrontation, while a small fish tried to mediate between them.

"Friends, don't—fight in the shop. If you want to fight—go to the ring!" Bangbangji banged a gong.

"Everyone saw that he provoked me first." The Great Seal angrily raised its whiteboard.

The venomous otter sneered repeatedly: "Look at what you wrote five minutes ago before you speak."

[I wrote this in front of everyone, so tell me what the hell is wrong with what I said?]

"All you've got are problems."

I can't take it anymore, I can't talk to this piece of trash.

"Then get out! Get out of the house!"

Gulibo and the other small animals trembled. Manager Carp pulled out two pairs of boxing gloves, one large and one small, and threw them out, banging on a gong and shouting, "Round one! Begin!"

The Poison Otter, having donned boxing gloves, leaped into the pool and delivered a jab to the seal's stomach. The seal, enraged, rolled over and, using its immense weight, unleashed a devastating crushing blow, submerging the Poison Otter beneath its flesh. The Poison Otter persisted, attempting an over-the-shoulder throw by grabbing the seal's fur, but the overwhelming weight difference prevented it from succeeding; it only managed a powerful tug. The seal retaliated with a Water Karate - Leopard Claw, and the two fought fiercely, neither gaining the upper hand, making for a truly spectacular battle.

"Good, left hook! Uppercut! Hit its eye, beautiful!" Ji Huaisu cheered repeatedly while holding a bag of potato chips.

Chu Hengkong went over to watch the commotion: "How did they start arguing?"

“A young writer just visited the bookstore and said he doesn’t want to write anymore and is going back to his hometown to grow mushrooms.” Ji Huaisu shrugged. “He sadly felt that creators would be replaced by mushrooms in the future, and that agriculture would be the mainstream of future development, and that he would become the dregs of the times.”

"I guess the otter editor subtly encouraged him to keep writing."

"Yes."

"What about the store manager?"

Ji Huaisu stretched his cheeks and imitated a seal: "The shopkeeper said it was a wise choice. You'll be dried up by the mushrooms sooner or later. If you don't want to write, then get out."

"Wow!" Vande exclaimed.

The Poison Otter, having just delivered a powerful uppercut, retorted angrily, "Look at what it's saying!"

[Am I wrong?] The big seal continued holding up its sign, [You've only been writing for a short while and you're already scared by a mushroom? If your mental fortitude is this weak, you shouldn't be writing!]

"Wow, bro, you talk like you have an iron will. Who's the one who goes into seclusion every month without fail!"

[I talk pessimistically every day, but I haven't given up, okay? You want to become a professional writer and make money by writing books, so you're going to face competition! Before, you had to write better than your peers and have your own unique style; now it's about writing better than a mushroom! If you don't even dare to compare yourself to a mushroom, what makes you think you can be a writer? Go home and grow mushrooms!]

"Is it fair to compare yourself to a mushroom?" Poison Otter tapped the pond. "A professional writer who eats a mushroom can write a book in a week. While you're busy choosing your words, the mushroom has already written an entire paragraph. How can a small writer compete with such a thing?"

[Upgrade! Become a master craftsman!] The giant seal wouldn't back down an inch. [You have to have this kind of awareness to write; I'm a point mass 5!]

"What nonsense are you talking about, a mere 5-point creature!" The Poison Otter slapped the seal's nose.

That talent is also a kind of asset...

Seeing that the little animals' quarrel was getting more and more absurd, Chu Heng coughed a few times: "We did make some progress this afternoon..."

Both the seal and the otter turned their heads. Just as the carp was about to strike the gong, it raised its head and said, "Round two—shall we fight again?"

"How is it?" the poison otter asked with concern.

“We’ve basically figured out the sales channels. If we wanted to eradicate mushrooms, we could do it in one night,” Vande said. “But as you know, that’s not the problem.”

The Poison Otter sighed: "It's not a problem at that level..."

Ji Huaisu looked left and right, puzzled, and said, "What's so difficult about this? Just wipe them all out, isn't that enough?"

“Of course we could take it all out at once. You could get the seal shopkeeper to handle it, and it wouldn’t even take a night.” Vande curled his tentacles. “But why should we do that?”

"Why should I..." Ji Huaisu realized, "Ah, it's mine. This isn't a crime."

“If we are to stop something, then it should be dangerous, or at least egregious,” Van Der said. “But mushrooms themselves are not inherently evil; they are simply a convenient tool. Even if the people who grow mushrooms use this opportunity to make a fortune, we have no legitimate reason to take action against them. It is perfectly reasonable for someone to profit from a useful product they have cultivated.”

The problem lies in people's definition of mushrooms, and in discussions concerning creation, fairness, and art. But everyone naturally has their own opinion on these issues; how can we possibly silence over a billion people and stop them from using mushrooms?

This is precisely why Trek hesitated to intervene; the matter is difficult to judge as right or wrong, and the standards and boundaries for creation are quite vague. Especially in the city-state of Thornsa, there are quite a few writers who have undergone Ascension.

If using mushrooms is unfair, then is writing with skillful hands fair? Is drawing with a magical blade fair? And how should we evaluate someone who uses the special abilities of family and friends to help with their creation?

“This… can’t be discussed…” Ji Huaisu realized, “It’s different from inventions like sewing machines and cars that liberate people from tedious work. If tools can accomplish original tasks for people, then originality itself needs to be redefined…”

"Whether or not to eat mushrooms is a matter for professional writers to consider. What bothers me is everyone's attitude," said Poison Otter. "I don't think this kind of thing counts as creation, but it is indeed efficient and can maintain a 'not too bad' level. If everyone generally thinks that mushroom works are good, then where should the stories I like and support be placed? Should those who honestly rely on their own writing and drawing be suppressed by mushrooms?"

Manager Bangbangji struck the gong for the third time and spoke solemnly: "Since the bookstore was founded—for more than two hundred years—we have always encouraged creation, supported creation, and recognized individuality. We believe that this is the soil in which good stories are born—it is indispensable. But if tools replace people—things become bad, very bad."

You can't force people not to eat mushrooms; you have the power to control them.

"Shut up, seal."

This brat is not someone I can conspire with.

Just as the third round was about to begin, Chu Hengkong snapped his fingers, drawing everyone's attention back.

“Huaisu just mentioned the definition, and I think that’s a great starting point,” he said. “Before discussing concepts like creation or meaning, let’s first look at what mushrooms actually are.”

He took out a book with silver eyes on the cover.