Just as Wang Yan's brushstroke was seen, the brushwork was fluent, the posture vigorous, and the momentum grand yet lively.
Elder Beiming's three and a half characters, though well-written, compared to Wang Yan's stroke, looked completely childish.
If Elder Beiming's three and a half characters could sell for ten thousand yuan, with Wang Yan's stroke, it truly became invaluable. This stroke, although simple, is impossible without decades of hard work.
Elder Beiming stared at Wang Yan, already dumbfounded.
"Brilliant medical skills, extraordinary calligraphy, and impressive martial prowess, what is the background of this young man? What kind of existence is his father?" In Elder Beiming's mind, waves of astonishment surged. He had lived for decades, and for the first time in his life, he was so shocked.
