As with countless deities, once Zhong Kui rose to prominence, someone naturally crafted a formal biography for him.

For reasons unknown, whether in ancient times or the present, the common folk place immense importance on origins, a deeply ingrained structure from which even the loftiest of gods cannot escape. Take the Jade Emperor, for instance; despite being the ruler of Heaven, the people insisted on framing him as the benevolent Zhang Bairen, who only ascended to the Celestial Throne after enduring countless tribulations.

If even the Jade Emperor couldn't evade the narrative spun by the populace, Zhong Kui was certainly no exception. According to historical records and scholarly verification, he was a man of extraordinary talent and profound learning, habitually righteous, unbendingly honest, and genuinely sincere in his dealings with others. He was the quintessential gruff exterior hiding a kind heart, which is why, upon his death, he transformed into the Ghost King, eventually evolving through generations of popular interpretation into the revered Guardian Spirit of the Household.

Thinking about it, Zhong Kui's rise mirrors that of Guan Er-ge (Guan Yu); both gained massive support from the people, gradually ascended in status, and finally received official conferment from the court, becoming celebrated deities in folklore.

This is precisely why they say the power of the common masses is inexhaustible. If something aligns with their desires, it is immediately elevated to the altars; if it fails to meet their expectations, even a high-ranking deity risks being forgotten in a dusty corner.

But to return to the matter at hand: upon seeing that the hidden painting depicted Zhong Kui, everyone felt a touch of surprise, yet simultaneously a deep sense of familiarity. Compared to those more refined artistic styles, the image of Zhong Kui undeniably resonated more closely with popular aesthetics.

"Something's not right..."

Unlike those merely looking for entertainment, the true connoisseurs preferred to study the substance of the scroll—details such as the quality of the painting, the style, and the artist. It was precisely due to this ingrained habit that they began to notice a discrepancy.

"What's not right?"

Hearing someone declare an issue, the surrounding crowd naturally expressed confusion. "It looks perfectly fine."

"It's not the painting itself that's wrong, but the scroll seems far more complicated than it appears..." A connoisseur shook his head slightly, leaning closer for another look, then exclaimed in astonishment, "Quick, look at the inscription!"

At his prompting, everyone turned their gaze back to the painting. Indeed, beside the portrait, there was a section of text. Following the custom of ancient painters, this was presumed to be an inscription or colophon.

However, at that moment, someone offered a rebuttal: "That's not an inscription; it's an Imperial Edict!"

"An Edict?"

A wave of confusion washed over many; they couldn't grasp the meaning. An inscription is an inscription; how could it be an edict?

Someone with a better vantage point could see the characters more clearly. The text was written in traditional script. An elderly gentleman, whose eyesight had fortunately not failed him, nodded and chanted slowly: "When the divine spirit answered the dream, the ailment was entirely cured; the valiant warrior dispelled the demons, truly worthy of commendation; thus, this unusual depiction is issued to the relevant authorities for widespread dissemination at year's end, that all may recognize it, to ward off evil spirits and enhance tranquility. Let this be announced throughout the land, so that all may be made aware!"

"What does that mean?"

It wasn't necessarily a matter of low culture, but rather the vast chasm between ancient and modern understanding. While they could grasp the general gist of the passage, articulating its precise meaning proved elusive, leaving them with a sense of knowing that but not how.

"It’s a famous anecdote."

Someone casually interjected with an explanation: "Legend says Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, Li Longji, once had a dream. He dreamed that small demons were stealing his jade flute and the sachet of Consort Yang. Enraged, Li Longji was about to summon warriors to seize them, when suddenly, a terrifying, shaggy-bearded great ghost rushed forward and, right before the Emperor's horrified gaze, swallowed the little demons whole."

"After devouring the minor spirits, the great ghost immediately prostrated itself before Li Longji and revealed its origin. It claimed to be Zhong Kui from Mount Zhongnan, who, failing the military exam in Chang'an during the Wude era of Emperor Gaozu, died of shame by striking his head against the palace steps. Fortunately, Gaozu decreed he be buried in a green robe, and in gratitude, Zhong Kui vowed to cleanse the Great Tang of all malevolent spirits."

"Upon waking, Li Longji immediately summoned a court painter to render the scene from his dream: a depiction of Zhong Kui Catching Ghosts. After the painting was finished, Li Longji personally inscribed it with an imperial comment and ordered the relevant departments to engrave the image onto woodblocks for mass printing and distribution, so that the world might know the divine might of Zhong Kui..."

As he spoke, the explainer suddenly froze, crying out, "Could this painting be an authentic work by Wu Daozi?"

"The Painting Sage, Wu Daozi?"

"It's possible; historical accounts state that Li Longji commissioned Wu Daozi to paint the Zhong Kui Catching Ghosts image."

The possibility ignited a frenzy among the experts, who immediately surged forward to examine the scroll more closely. Their excitement was understandable; mentioning Wu Daozi immediately made calm impossible. One only needed to look at the prefix attached to his name: the two characters for 'Painting Sage' already signified his standing in the public consciousness.

In ancient times, the titles of Immortal or Sage were not bestowed lightly. Li Bai, the Poetry Immortal; Du Fu, the Poetry Sage; Lu Yu, the Tea Immortal; Wang Xizhi, the Calligraphy Sage—all were figures whose renown shook heaven and earth, figures whose names resonated like thunder.

That Wu Daozi earned the title of Painting Sage could not possibly be an empty honor. Consider this: ancient China had countless painters, and many were famous masters—Gu Kaizhi, Zhang Sengyao, Zhan Ziqian, Yan Liben... all renowned names.

Yet, none of them were universally accorded the title of 'Sage'; that honor was seized by Wu Daoren (Wu Daozi), which speaks volumes about his skill. His ability stood the test of history, commanding the genuine admiration of all, thus proving his mastery.

Historical records indicate Wu Daozi was orphaned and poor in youth, initially studying calligraphy before switching to painting, only gaining prominence around the age of twenty. During the Kaiyuan era, he was summoned to the court for his painting prowess. He studied calligraphy under Zhang Xu and He Zhizhang, and gained insight into brushwork by observing the sword dance of Gongsun Daniang.

Once his painting skills reached their zenith, he earned the deep appreciation of Emperor Xuanzong Li Longji, who personally bestowed upon him the style name Daoxuan! For a painter from such humble beginnings to receive such an honor explains why craftsmen later revered him as their patriarch and posterity crowned him the Painting Sage.

Great literary figures, upon viewing Wu Daozi’s work, sighed that poetry had reached Du Zimei (Du Fu), prose had reached Han Tuizhi (Han Yu), calligraphy had reached Yan Lugong (Yan Zhenqing), and painting had reached Wu Daozi; thus, all transformation in antiquity and all matters under heaven were complete!

"Yes, it looks like it. Truly Wu Daozi's hand."

"The lines defining the figures and clothing are incredibly fluid, full of dynamism and strong rhythm. The entire composition is unified, evoking a sense of heaven soaring and walls flowing with wind—this is the celebrated 'Wu Dai Dang Feng' [Wu's Brush Carries the Wind], a unique hallmark of Wu Daozi."

"It's not just the style; look at the signature area. Although there is no personal inscription by Wu Daozi, there is an imperial reign mark from Li Longji. It looks like the genuine article..."

Amidst the awe, Wang Guan, also quite curious, quietly asked, "Elder Zhou, is that painting truly an original by Wu Daozi?"

"What do you think?" Elder Zhou smiled slightly. "Do you think it isn't?"

"Of course, I hope it is..." Wang Guan hesitated. "But weren't Wu Daozi's works mostly murals? Murals are incredibly difficult to preserve and easily destroyed by war. So, the works circulating today are generally copies."

"There are originals extant,"

Elder Zhou reminded him. "Don't you recall the Eighty-Seven Immortals Scroll?"

"Ah..."

In an instant, Wang Guan realized his oversight. He certainly knew the Eighty-Seven Immortals Scroll—a monochrome figure handscroll depicting eighty-seven deities descending in a graceful procession. Famous painters like Zhang Daqian, Xu Beihong, and Pan Tianshou unanimously agreed that the scroll likely originated from Wu Daozi's brush.

Xu Beihong discovered the Eighty-Seven Immortals Scroll, and numerous dramatic events, including theft and recovery, surrounded it before it finally returned to him. It is now preserved in the Xu Beihong Memorial Hall.

After extensive authentication by numerous experts and scholars, many concluded that the scroll was likely a fenben—a preparatory draft for a mural. After all, painting a mural is a meticulous process; one cannot simply start on the wall but must first prepare a sketch before transferring the design.

However, for a great master, even the preparatory draft is a rare masterpiece in itself. Naturally, some would meticulously collect and preserve such works, mounting them and passing them down through generations.

"Could this Zhong Kui Catching Ghosts painting be similar?" Wang Guan speculated, studying it closely. "I heard Wu Daozi favored using scorched ink for his outlines, applying only light color washes over the ink lines, which creates an air of vitality, fitting the style of this painting..."

"If it matches, that's enough,"

As he spoke, Elder Zhou patted Wang Guan's shoulder with deep meaning: "In life, perhaps being willfully ignorant isn't always a bad thing. When something is controversial, why must you always assume the worst?"

"...I understand."

At this moment, Wang Guan grasped the implication. While discerning authenticity is the instinct and very purpose of an appraiser, for a collector, truth and falsehood are sometimes not the definitive measure of an object's worth.

Take this Zhong Kui Catching Ghosts painting, for example. Its brushwork exudes Wu Daozi's style, and it can be confirmed as a Tang Dynasty piece, yet direct proof that it originated from Wu Daozi's hand is lacking.

Under such circumstances, the painting is naturally subject to debate. Those afflicted with obsessive tendencies might insist on qualifying it with 'possibly attributed to Wu Daozi'—because 'possibly' is conceptually worlds apart from 'definitely' by Wu Daozi.

But collectors are different. As long as it's proven not to be a forgery, a little ambiguity doesn't spoil the piece; it still retains immense collectible value. Furthermore, the general public cares little for the fine details of scholarly disputes, leaning toward accepting it as genuine. In a way, they are luckier, finding greater satisfaction by appreciating the painting with a pure heart.

A genuine work by Wu Daozi has always been a treasure known only by reputation, never truly seen. Not that they had never seen it—they had seen copies and prints—but the chance to closely examine an original was exceedingly rare.

Now that the opportunity was before them, no one was willing to let it pass.

Moreover, the painting itself was extraordinary; not only was it potentially by Wu Daozi, but it was also a miraculous hidden painting, further fueling everyone's curiosity. They remained utterly focused on appreciating it, nobody contemplating leaving...