Chapter 638 - 638: Japan and South Korea Shocked

Osaka, Japan.

The renowned calligraphy master, Kawaguchi Hiroshi, was flourishing his brush in his study.

In a matter of moments, a beautiful piece in Running Script was born from his hand.

The people standing by his desk, watching him work, broke into unanimous praise the moment he set down his brush.

"Magnificent calligraphy! What a superb Running Script!"

"Master Kawaguchi's Running Script is truly worthy of being called the best in Japan! No, it ought to be called the best in the world!"

"That's right! Master Kawaguchi's calligraphy can already be compared to that of ancient masters like Mi Fu and Huang Tingjian. It's not even that far off from the Calligraphy Saint, Wang Xizhi!"

Kawaguchi Hiroshi greatly enjoyed the crowd's adulation, yet he feigned modesty, waving his hand and saying, "You all flatter me, you truly do. My calligraphy skill is merely at a beginner's level."

These words immediately invited a new round of praise.

But right at that moment, one of his disciples suddenly let out a cry of shock. "How is this possible?!"

The outburst not only broke the flow of praise but also caused Kawaguchi Hiroshi's expression to darken instantly. He barked, "What are you shouting about? How rude!"

Fearing he would be punished, the disciple hurriedly explained, "Master, I was online and saw a few pieces of calligraphy by a Chinese person. I was so stunned that I acted rudely. I hope you can forgive me, Master."

"Calligraphy by a Chinese person?" Kawaguchi Hiroshi's brow furrowed slightly.

The Japanese Calligraphy Community had always believed that they were the true inheritors of Chinese calligraphy. As for the current calligraphers in China, they looked down on most of them. So, upon hearing his disciple say he was stunned by a Chinese person's calligraphy, Kawaguchi Hiroshi was quite surprised.

His disciples were all of an extremely high standard, both in skill and in their discerning eye. For one of them to be stunned, the calligraphy's quality certainly couldn't be poor.

"Whose work is it? He Junwu or Wei Chengyu?" Kawaguchi Hiroshi asked. These two were among the few Chinese calligraphers acknowledged by the Japanese Calligraphy Community.

"Neither. It's someone called 'Master Zhao'," the disciple replied.

"Master Zhao?" Kawaguchi Hiroshi muttered the name a few times, certain he had never heard it before, which only made him more curious. "What kind of calligraphy did this person write to shock you so? Let me see!"

The disciple quickly zoomed in on the calligraphy on his phone and handed it to Kawaguchi Hiroshi.

"This..."

The moment he saw the calligraphy on the phone, Kawaguchi Hiroshi's jaw dropped.

On the screen was also a work of Running Script. The calligraphy was simply sublime, a pinnacle of perfection!

Looking back at his own work, Kawaguchi Hiroshi suddenly felt it was an eyesore. He recalled the praise everyone had just lavished upon him, and his face burned with shame.

'That wasn't praise; it was a slap in the face!'

Kawaguchi Hiroshi tore his own work to shreds, then immediately ordered, "Find out who this Master Zhao is, right now! To think that a Chinese person could produce such fine Running Script. Still, it's a good thing our Japanese masters have higher attainments in other scripts!"

His disciple hesitated for a moment before finally saying, "Master, actually... this person isn't just good at Running Script. His Regular, Seal, Cursive, and Clerical scripts are all equally brilliant!"

"What did you say?" Kawaguchi Hiroshi's eyes went wide, his face a mask of disbelief.

The disciple said quickly, "It's true. Look, if you scroll down, there are his other works."

Kawaguchi Hiroshi quickly scrolled through. Sure enough, there were other styles of calligraphy, and every single one was at the absolute highest level!

"This... this..." Kawaguchi Hiroshi felt his proud heart shatter in an instant. His vision suddenly went black, and, overcome by the shock, he fainted dead away.

The study instantly erupted into chaos.

Similar scenes were playing out in many places across Japan.

The famous calligraphers of Japan never would have imagined that the Chinese calligraphy world, which they had always looked down upon and scorned, would suddenly produce such a peerless master!

The most crucial part was that no one had ever heard of this 'Master Zhao' before!

'What is he, the Sun Monkey? Did he just spring out of a rock?'

The calligraphy community in South Korea was also in an uproar.

But the reason for their chaos was completely different from Japan's.

"Quick, send someone to find out if this calligrapher, Master Zhao, has the noble blood of our Korean Nation!" the president of the Korean Calligraphy Association bellowed at his subordinate.

"Yes, sir!" The subordinate accepted the order but didn't leave immediately. Instead, he asked, "And what if he doesn't have the blood of our Korean Nation?"

"Doesn't have it? How could he not have it! How can he possibly not have it!" the president of the Korean Calligraphy Association roared. "A talent this outstanding absolutely must have the blood of our Korean Nation flowing through his veins! And even if he really doesn't, we have to find a way to prove that he does!"

Zhao Yuan had no idea that his few pieces of calligraphy had caused such a massive sensation in China, Japan, and South Korea. Nor did he know that he had shocked numerous Japanese calligraphers into fainting and had, for some inexplicable reason, been 'given' Korean heritage.

He was currently sitting at the dining table with Lin Xue's family, having lunch.

Lin Liqiang was also back, sitting opposite Zhao Yuan.

He was actually very satisfied with Zhao Yuan and quite liked him. But right now, seeing that Zhao Yuan was not only liked by his daughter but also by his own father and wife—the three of them constantly piling food into Zhao Yuan's bowl while no one served him—he couldn't help but feel a little jealous and bitter.

He said sourly, "Alright, can't you see Xiaozhao's bowl is about to overflow? And here my poor bowl is still empty."

Xue Wanyun shot him a look and said irritably, "Look at you, getting jealous of Xiaozhao. Can't you have a little grace? Here, take this chicken drumstick and stuff your mouth with it!"

Having failed to compete for attention and getting scolded on top of it, Lin Liqiang felt utterly wronged.

Zhao Yuan chuckled to himself, glanced at the time, and said, "The medicinal meal is ready. I'll go get it."

He got up, went into the kitchen, and came out a moment later carrying the medicinal meal.

When he lifted the lid, a rich, heart-stirring aroma immediately wafted out, and everyone who smelled it felt instantly refreshed.

"It smells amazing!"

"If it smells this good, it must taste incredible!"

Everyone praised it. Even Lin Liqiang forgot about his jealousy, his eyes glued to the medicinal meal as he practically drooled.

Zhao Mei, who had been floating in mid-air, watching Zhao Yuan and the others eat while she couldn't have any, her heart full of grievance, suddenly saw her eyes light up.

The medicinal meal Zhao Yuan had cooked contained Essence Qi. It had already surpassed the scope of an ordinary medicinal meal; even a Ghost Spirit could partake of it.

Desperate to satisfy her cravings, Zhao Mei let out a cheer and charged toward the medicinal meal.