Silas pointed to the complete set of oil painting tools on the table. “I’ve already taught you all the basics of painting. I believe that as long as you master the tricks of using these paints, with your talent, you’ll soon be able to create some decent works, right?”

“Yes, mentor.”

“Then, after breakfast, get started right away!”

Breakfast was already prepared, and it was surprisingly hearty: bread, vegetable soup, and a small slice of cured meat.

Before eating, Lawson was a bit uncertain: “Mentor, is all this for me?”

“Why so many questions? Hurry up and eat!”

Lawson obeyed immediately.

He devoured breakfast like a whirlwind, then picked up the tools and, referring to what he’d learned last night, began to study them carefully.

He focused intently for half an hour, more or less figuring out how to use the tools. Just as he was about to start practicing, a stream of information flashed through his mind.

‘New printing tool detected. Load it?’

Lawson was startled: ‘Is that even possible?’

Of course he chose to load it.

After patiently waiting for more than ten seconds, another message came through: ‘New tool loaded and added to the printing backup options.’

Lawson was overjoyed and was about to try printing when Silas’s dissatisfied scolding rang in his ears.

“Why are you just standing there daydreaming?!”

“I’m warning you, if you can’t paint a picture that can be sold within half a month, don’t even think about learning any magic from me! Do you understand?”

“Understood, mentor!”

Lawson was startled by the shout, and suddenly a thought flashed through his mind: ‘Silas only seems to care about magic, and only envies my abilities in that area. He doesn’t seem to care about painting at all.’

That being the case, if he showed talent in painting, it shouldn’t put his life in danger. On the contrary, it might make Silas value him even more.

These thoughts flashed by, and Lawson immediately adjusted his strategy.

He said with a look of ‘delight’, “Mentor, I think I’ve figured out how to use these things.”

Silas was half-convinced, half-skeptical. “Kid, I don’t like apprentices who boast.”

Lawson looked ‘confident’. “Mentor, I’m not boasting. Look, these paints are actually just a special kind of brush. There’s not much difference from when I used to draw with charcoal.”

This, Silas believed. His mood improved considerably. After thinking for a moment, he pointed to himself. “Then try drawing me as I am now.”

“Yes, mentor.”

Lawson set up the easel and carefully observed Silas.

After choosing the best angle, he began taking screenshots with his adventure log—over a hundred in a row—then picked the one that best captured the mysterious aura of a mage and started printing.

In the next moment, it was as if his hands were guided by an invisible force. He skillfully mixed the paints, picked up the brush and palette knife, and began to paint with swift strokes.

In the screenshot, Silas sat at a small square table, holding a thick parchment book in his hands. On the pages were the words “《Silas的法术笔记》”.

If it had been last night, Lawson wouldn’t have recognized those words even if he saw them, but now he could.

A sudden thought struck him: ‘A spell notebook, which is basically a spellbook—doesn’t that mean it contains Silas’s magical knowledge?’

With Silas’s stingy temperament, getting him to teach magic willingly was like dancing on a knife’s edge—one wrong move and it’d be over.

He could try to wear him down little by little, but that would take a lot of time and might not even work.

So, why not steal the knowledge!

Once this idea appeared, it spread like wildfire, quickly occupying all of Lawson’s mind.

He had to take a deep breath, force himself to suppress the thought, stay focused, and continue painting.

Silas had no idea what Lawson was thinking. He continued to sit in his chair, leisurely flipping through his spellbook.

He didn’t care about Lawson’s gaze at all, not the least bit worried that this ‘illiterate’ apprentice would steal his knowledge.

Oil painting is much harder than drawing with a pencil, and the paint dries quickly, so he had to stop several times to mix more colors. As a result, it took more than two hours to ‘print’ this painting.

When he finished, Lawson stepped back, his face full of ‘eagerness for praise’. “Mentor, it’s done~~”

Silas looked up at him and smiled faintly. “Judging by your expression, it must have turned out well? Young man, too much confidence is arrogance. Oil painting involves many advanced techniques—it’s not that easy to master.”

If everyone could paint well, oil paintings wouldn’t sell for such high prices.

When he was young, he’d thought about being a painter on the side, using painting to support his magic studies. But the things he painted never sold, and he even lost quite a bit of money, so he gave up on the idea.

As he spoke, he closed his spellbook and walked over to the easel.

The moment he saw the painting, Silas froze in place, not moving a muscle, not even blinking, as if he’d been hit with a petrification spell.

On the easel sat a middle-aged man wearing a pointed round hat and a gray cloak.

He held a spellbook in one hand, the other resting casually on the back of a chair. His eyes were filled with obsession for magic, yet a trace of worry showed in his brows, and the chiseled wrinkles on his forehead were the marks left by a difficult path of magic.