Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Vincent Ford's hands moved, using both hands, each stroke possessed the style of a master.
When he painted seriously, his brow furrowed slightly, seemingly his mood was shifting with his brush.
Just the first few strokes stunned everyone.
This elegance, this technique, it is far beyond what ordinary people can achieve.
Ryan Lane felt his heart was about to leap out, watching the growing beauty on the paper, occasionally lifting his eyes to gaze at Vincent's stern visage as he painted.
Every stroke, every mark, was the essence.
Many people could not learn this in ten years.
Before long, the creek and mountain painting was more than halfway complete.
Fans were shocked: "How... how is this possible? Mr. Castle is supposed to be a seventy-year-old man, right?"
"Yes, how could this be? Was there a mistake somewhere?"
"Oh my god, this painting... it's so beautiful."
"And it's just a draft, yet so heavenly; could he really be Mr. Castle?"
