Don't confiscate my identity as a human race

Chapter 617 - 578: Is Lanci Really a Master?_2

The Demon Race’s expressions and stances varied—respectful, wary, contemplative.

Light cleverly spilled from the tall windows, as if by a miracle, focusing on the princess. At that moment, she was the chosen one.

Its ancient and yet grand realistic style did not much resemble the work of the contemporary young painters of the Demon World.

All the demons turned their gaze towards the Demon Race general, Mist Sir.

"It is said that Mist Sir has commissioned a legendary painter from thousands of years ago, a master of the Demon Race."

"This painting... it depicts the pinnacle of power in the Demon World; it is also a profound analysis of the psychology of the courtiers."

"By depicting the emotions of the princess and the courtiers, it highlights the intersection between individuals, the Demon World, and pivotal moments of an era... eventually turning into a painting that combines motion and stillness, inner and outer elements."

Many demons couldn’t help but discuss it among themselves.

"Do you normally appreciate art?"

Lord Raeming, listening to the voices around him, looked at Lanci beside him.

Although he had never discussed art with his close friend, he felt that McCarthy possessed an indescribable poet’s quality.

"I understand a bit."

Lanci answered.

"How do you evaluate this painting?"

Lord Raeming wanted to hear Lanci’s opinion.

"Quite good."

Lanci replied.

"..."

Hearing such a perfunctory response from Lanci, Lord Raeming was about to speak but felt the words stuck in his throat.

Lord Raeming’s own opinion of the painting was also nothing more than "quite good," unable to articulate any other evaluation.

His intuition always told him that his friend was not so simple, yet his friend’s casual attitude seemed to show a genuine lack of interest in art appreciation.

Before the demons could let their exclamations of amazement swell, another wave of pink light filled the Regency Hall.

[Portrait of a Bird in a Cage]

[Type: Artwork]

[Grade: Sacred (Damaged)]

Lord Raeming shook his head, unable to understand the motives between those two members of the Great Demon Clan, nor why his friend asked such a question.

Especially since True Night Sir has always been an enigma, at least Lord Raeming had not seen the true form of this Civil Official in all these years.

Lanci fell into deep contemplation once more.

Lord Raeming, meanwhile, waited patiently for his friend’s profound opinion.

"Do you think it’s possible that True Night Sir might actually be a woman?"

Lanci, looking at True Night Sir Esmod with his thoroughly concealed appearance, muttered to Lord Raeming.

His keen Matchmaker’s instinct told him that if True Night Sir’s gender were reversed, everything would make sense.

"..."

Lord Raeming looked at Lanci, his brain stalling for a moment.

My friend, what exactly are you analyzing?

Now he really couldn’t tell whether McCarthy understood paintings at all.

As they chatted casually, the Regency Hall was filled with an ineffable harmony and enthusiasm. The voices of the Demon Race echoed beneath the high dome, each comment filled with pride.

A true master not only paints well but also paints quickly.

The paintings that were revealed earlier had been placed in the golden cabinet last.

Now, as the remaining paintings in the golden cabinet dwindled, it revealed those that had been completed and submitted early on.

The Demon Race appreciated both "Naikarisu Royal Palace Throne Hall" and "Caged Bird"; even after the Fallen Queen had moved them aside, their eyes lingered on the canvases.

"Whichever painting the princess chooses will make sense."

"She herself desired paintings from the best of the Great Demon Clan; receiving such works would meet her expectations."

The absence of a painting by the Ancestor for so long began to put them at ease.

Because even a master like True Night Sir Esmod had taken so long, Marquis Ulysses, the tenth Ancestor, had also been delayed in his journey.

Working under the pressure of even tighter time constraints, the likelihood of producing a high-quality painting had all but vanished.

Looking at Marquis Ulysses, the tenth Ancestor, he still appeared uninvolved and above the fray, smiling calmly, as if he had long since become indifferent to victory or defeat.

Such a person, lacking competitive spirit, would find it difficult to create a piece that surpassed the fully committed work of True Night Sir.

However.

At this moment, when the mood in the Regency Hall was at its most excited and fervid peak.

The light, as brilliant as a galaxy, seemed to suddenly descend upon the palace.