A hush engulfed the lecture hall the moment Instructor Bonevald appeared before the students.

Tall treant with deep green eyes, donned in a strange black suit, he floated calmly around the podium, his gaze sweeping across the expanse of the lecture hall.

His eyes narrowed slightly when they landed on Kailen Darkhaven.

"His mother was my classmate," Bonevald mused inwardly. "Someone I fought tooth and nail against for the highest scores in painting class… and now, her son sits amongst my students. Hah. How fate toys with us."

He drifted to the center, voice loud and clear.

"Welcome to Painting Class. Most of you are here for recreation, and frankly, I don't blame you. Don't worry—you'll pass the course as long as you meet the minimum skill requirements."

His tone softened, yet bore profound weight.

"But that's all you'll have—skill. You won't grasp the true essence of painting."

A massive canvas floated before him, glowing faintly. A slender green tool appeared beside it.

"A demonstration, huh," Kailen murmured.

The treant's brush moved. Every stroke was smooth, ancient, and deliberate—each one seemed to put weight on the souls of the students. Wisps of universe energy seemed to condense and reverberate in the environs.

"Painting," Bonevald began, "isn't about colors or materials. It's about the breath behind them."

He paused mid-stroke and let the silence of the students build up.

"There are three realms in the art of painting."

"The first realm," Bonevald said, his brush sketching outlines swiftly, "is Imitation. You draw what your eyes can see—form, light, shadow. Your piece will look perfect, yet it has no soul."

On the canvas, vivid mountains and rivers appeared, breathtaking in detail yet strangely empty.

"The second realm," Bonevald continued, "is Emotion. You no longer paint what you see, but what you feel. Your brush becomes your heart. Every color, every shade, carries a piece of your story."

The image shifted; the mountains glowed in the amber light of evening. Clouds cascaded on softly, illuminating strangely with warmth. Students leaned forward, caught by the subtle pulse found within the painting.

Then Bonevald's tone deepened.

"The third realm is the Living Scene."

He stopped moving his brush.

"In this realm, the painting seems to breathe. The air changes. The world listens."

A faint, gentle breeze reverberated across the lecture hall, akin to some sort of sigh pulsing through ancient trees.

"But do not mistake it for true creation," Bonevald layered firmly. "The third realm does not bend the laws of the universe—that power belongs only to those who have stepped into the Dao lifeform level and beyond.

What it does… is simply resonate with those laws. When an artist's heart moves in harmony with the rhythm of the universe, the border between art and life grows thin."

He smiled faintly. "That's why we call it the Living Scene. The universe does not obey the painter—it simply answers their sincerity."

The light around the painting dimmed as Bonevald withdrew his brush.

"The first realm enhances your perception.

The second realm helps you understand yourself and your emotions better.

The third realm enhances your connection to the dao—This means that you have a smoother chance of easily comprehending a law, to officially break through to the dao level, after you consume a dao level talent enhancing elixir."

He looked across the silent hall, his voice low and calm.

He turned to face the rows of wide-eyed students.

"So remember—painting is not about beauty and flexing skills to attract romantic admirers."

The students laughed.

He continued, "It's about comprehension.

To paint the world… is to understand it."

The hall remained utterly still.

Then Bonevald's gaze sharpened, a trace of challenge in his green eyes.

"Now then," he said quietly, "let's see who among you dares to paint beyond their limits!"

The instructor's gaze briefly lingered on the students, each one bearing renewed anticipation for the craft.

"Very well."

The students began painting, each completely immersed in their own craft.

The experienced and more skilled painters guided the newbies, correcting their flaws.

These ones were seniors that joined to observe the instructor's painting to deepen their own understanding of the craft.

They used their own experiences to guide the newer students.

Bonevald observed it with calm acknowledgement.

He didn't frown on these kinds of things in his lecture.

Riba Harker used this method as a means of regaining some iota of his self-ruined reputation.

As an imitation realm painter rumored to be on the cusp of breaking through to the emotion realm, his skill did wonders to aid some new students.

As much as they despised him for his earlier behavior, they didn't reject knowledge.

Bonevald's gaze darted across the back, where a young man was completely immersed in painting something.

He was not painting, seated motionlessly, eyes closed.

Naturally, some newbies shook their heads at his prideful demeanor, daring to act all high and mighty when he knew nothing of the craft. They frowned on his bigotry when it came to accepting help from the experienced ones.

But the experienced ones had different thoughts.

It was not that he had rejected their help—they didn't approach him in the first place.

"He's in a state of extreme focus. No wonder none of the experienced painters approached him. Interesting. To have this level of focus for a first-time painter is admirable. Did this kid inherit his mother's painting abilities?" Bonevald analysed.

Oblivious to Bonevald's thoughts, and what was happening around him, Kailen was completely immersed in his thoughts.

The moment the instructor started the demonstration, he felt something in him naturally align—resonate, even—with the demonstration, especially when the instructor got to the demonstration of the third realm of painting—the Living Scene.

"What is going on?" Kailen mused to himself, trying to understand this phenomenon.

He could not tap into the third realm, but he knew he was strangely close to it, and it would be extremely easy for him for some reason if he took this painting craft seriously.

"So this painting craft is not just about painting. It's actually a form of honing your perception, yourself, and your connection to the dao—the laws of the universe. Interesting. The painting lessons I took on earth were truly trash. It's a good thing I approached this without any form of pride or preconceived notions, else I'd have probably missed out on a lot. At least on the bright side, thanks to those lessons, I'm not entirely lost when it comes to the basics."

With that, Kailen's eyes opened. He delivered the first stroke.

***

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