At that moment, Zhao Rong looked around.
He found himself by a creek.
The sky was devoid of the sun, yet some unknown light source illuminated the entire landscape like an ink painting.
Far in the sky, Southern migrating geese appeared as mere strokes on paper, flapping their wings.
His current location seemed to be in the outskirts.
Because surrounding Zhao Rong were lush ink-colored trees, dancing naturally in the wind.
Occasionally, small animals made of ink appeared hopping around before vanishing.
The scene was vibrant, though only in black and white.
Zhao Rong thought for a moment, opened his right hand, and the next second, a brush suddenly appeared in it.
He smiled lightly, as he thought it could.
But some rules still needed to be explored slowly.
Grasping the brush, Zhao Rong lightly painted an orchid boat, landing it straight onto the creek, even causing a splash of ink-colored water.
