While Yu BingYan was still in a daze, Ling Tian had already placed his brush back on the table, coming back to her side.
"How do you feel?" After a while, as though afraid to break her contemplation, Ling Tian then softly spoke, his voice faintly discernible like the light drizzle of spring. It slowly wormed its way into her thoughts, breaking her out of that mysterious reverie.
"An exquisite and flawless portrait of mountains and rivers; and a set of severe sword techniques. I also sense a sort of mysterious cultivation technique, and also… an endless imposing manner. The artwork also contains your own line of thinking, as though your whole self had blended to become the artwork itself. This… what kind of realm is this in… Yu BingYan’s eyes remained glued to the painting, her state of mind still trapped within it as she spoke dreamily.