Chapter 53
1045 Words
Herbert was also shocked, cold sweat forming on his forehead.
"Blindfold chess... He's actually playing blindfold chess," he muttered.
Blindfold chess is a type of chess where the player doesn't look at the board. They rely solely on their memory to remember the position of each piece and calculate future moves. For Ethan to play three games of blindfold chess simultaneously, his skill must be immeasurable!
Herbert was extremely nervous and terrified, realizing that he had encountered a true master.
Although Herbert played blindfold chess occasionally and understood its difficulty, playing three games at once was a whole different level. He had a premonition that he was going to lose.
Indeed, after only twenty-five moves, Herbert lost the game on the left.
Another half a minute later, he lost the game in the middle.
As for the right board, Herbert didn't even continue; he conceded defeat directly.
With a pale face, Herbert stood up, shaking and almost stumbling.
Ethan asked coldly, "Do you admit defeat now?"
Herbert, surprisingly straightforward, replied, "Mr. Lee, your chess skills are divine. I am not worthy."
Ethan waved his hand dismissively. "In that case, I won't trouble you any further."
Herbert staggered off the stage. He turned to his good friend, Hans, and said, "I'm sorry, I've embarrassed everyone."
A look of determination flashed in Hans's eyes as he addressed Ethan, "Mr. Lee, since you are so skilled, dare you compete with me in painting?"
Ethan shrugged nonchalantly. "No problem! You set the rules."
Not daring to be careless, Hans outlined the challenge. "We will each create a painting. The subject is unrestricted, and we will have one hour. The entire audience will judge the winner."
The audience nodded in agreement. Hans's rules seemed fair.
However, those familiar with Hans knew this was a tough challenge for Ethan.
Unlike the others, Hans was the most talented student of Master Derrida and had been under his tutelage the longest. His painting skills had already made him famous over a decade ago.
Ethan's eyes flashed with a hint of arrogance as he calmly said, "No problem. Today, I'll make sure your self-righteous people are thoroughly convinced."
Soon, two easels were brought up.
Hans glanced at Ethan without saying a word and began his preparations quietly.
Ethan, on the other hand, maintained his casual demeanor. He didn't even prepare any paint and only played with a single paintbrush in his hand.
Martin, his face twisted in anger, sneered at Ethan. "This time, you are sure to lose! Hans has been painting for thirty years. Any one of his paintings could sell for millions! You'll lose miserably, Ethan!"
Soon, all the tools were ready. Hans looked at Ethan and said in a deep voice, "Young man, if you admit defeat now, I can let you leave with some dignity."
Ethan chuckled. "Why do all of you talk so much? If we're going to compete, let's get started."
Hans's eyes turned cold. "Fine! If you don't value the opportunity I gave you, don't blame me for being ruthless!"
The host loudly announced, "Countdown: three, two, one, begin!"
As the words fell, Hans's demeanor changed abruptly. The seriousness in his eyes became intense as he stared at the blank canvas, seemingly lost in thought.
Meanwhile, Ethan leaned against his easel, his gaze fixed on Hans with interest, showing no intention of starting his own painting. He seemed more interested in observing Hans's technique.
The audience was astonished. 'Given that every minute counts in an hour-long competition, Ethan has the leisure to watch his opponent. Has he already given up before starting?'
Suddenly, Hans began to move, his right hand dancing across the canvas swiftly. His speed was so fast that his hand became a blur, almost invisible to the naked eye.
Hans's expression was focused, completely ignoring the audience's stares and Ethan's unusual behavior. His eyes were solely on the painting. Hans was already drenched in sweat, but he continued to paint flawlessly, changing brushes, inks, and colors without a single mistake or pause.
The audience clapped and admired the various techniques Hans used—dotting, shading, wiping, outlining, and sketching—all showcased brilliantly.
In no time, a beautiful landscape appeared on the paper, complete with blue skies, white clouds, mountains, and rivers.
Ethan, however, still hadn't started. He simply watched Hans's work with a hint of appreciation in his eyes.
Martin, excited, exclaimed, "Excellent! Hans has drawn his best landscape. Ethan, that fool, is doomed to lose this time! If he loses, I'll break his hand too!"
Herbert sneered, pointing at Ethan. "Of course he'll lose! Can't you see that guy is too scared to even pick up his brush? Ha! Let's see how he remains arrogant now!"
The spectators, meanwhile, were lost in the beauty of the landscape Hans painted.
When Hans finally lifted his brush, signaling the end, the audience snapped out of their trance.
Staring at the masterpiece before them, they were left speechless. The landscape painting looked so realistic that it seemed like a photograph taken with a high-definition camera.
In contrast, Ethan's canvas remained blank, causing the audience to sigh. It appeared that Ethan had indeed given up.
However, upon further reflection, facing Hans's masterful painting, it seemed wiser for Ethan to concede early rather than suffer greater humiliation later.
As soon as he finished his painting, Hans turned his attention to Ethan. Seeing Ethan's blank canvas, he smiled.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Hans's confident voice echoed throughout the stadium. "This is my work, a simple static landscape painting. I hope you all will give it your honest critique!"
The stadium erupted in applause and praise. Although Hans maintained a calm demeanor, there was a hint of pride in his eyes. Turning to Ethan, he couldn't help but add a touch of arrogant mockery to his tone. "Young man, do you have anything to say now?"
All eyes turned to Ethan. He remained calm as he spoke, "This painting is indeed quite good."
Hans was about to smile when Ethan's next words wiped the smile off his face and turned his expression dark.
Ethan said coldly, "But, if this is the extent of your skill, I must apologize because at this level, you're not even qualified to compete with me."
- Writer
