When he came out from inside, the scene before him caught him by surprise. He saw the middle-aged man who had just chatted with him now holding a spray paint bottle, haphazardly spraying on the building’s wall.
Beside him stood a person who looked like a butler, holding several paint cans in his arms.
Li Younan glanced around and noticed a small shop nearby selling graffiti supplies.
Seeing this, it was hard not to be curious about the identity of this middle-aged man who dared to brazenly graffiti someone else’s property. Yet, he didn’t seem like the usual street punk, so perhaps he had some connection with the Sword Forging Competition’s program team.
But when Younan looked at the painting on the wall, he rubbed his chin, shook his head, and decided not to comment, simply preparing to leave.
Just then, the middle-aged man suddenly called out to Younan, "Hey, young man, what do you think of my spray painting?"
Without hesitation, Younan replied, "It sucks, old man."
The middle-aged man immediately showed a displeased expression, turned the paint can in his hand, and said, "Young man, I thought you were someone who recognized good art. Don’t you think this is art?"
"Setting aside whether it’s art or not, are you sure you won’t get sued for this?"
Unexpectedly, upon hearing this, the middle-aged man burst into laughter and then sprayed a few more strokes on the wall, saying, "To be honest, I’ve always found this wall displeasing to the eye."
"Come on, young man, I’m giving you a chance to vent too."
Saying this, the man handed over a can of paint.
Younan initially wanted to refuse, but after looking at the wall, already painted into a mess, he pondered and then took the can.
Afterward, he began spraying alongside the marks left by the old man.
The middle-aged man at first didn’t notice anything amiss, but as Younan sprayed a few strokes, his expression subtly froze, and he watched the spray can with growing curiosity.
At this moment, Younan’s spraying seemed organized, yet no specific pattern could be discerned.
Younan didn’t stop, but suddenly paused his hand, then reached out to the butler for other colors of paint.
The butler hesitated for a moment and glanced at the middle-aged man. Seeing the man slightly nod, he allowed Younan to take out other colors from his arms.
When Younan started spraying with the second can of paint, the chaotic graffiti on the wall suddenly began to form a specific outline.
Once Younan sprayed the third can, the middle-aged man’s eyes flashed with delight, and the butler stood still, staring at the wall, dumbfounded.
Next, Younan took the last paint can, completed the final touches, and then casually tossed the can back into the butler’s arms.
Afterward, he gazed at the wall with some appreciation.
The middle-aged man, named Winslow, though not proficient in painting, had refined aesthetic taste as a wealthy art collector. Despite seeing many famous pieces, he was still amazed by this painting before him.
Younan didn’t deliberately cover the chaotic base colors, instead, used them to his advantage, creating a minimalist yet striking spray painting on the theme of sword forging.
The deep black chaotic marks served as a backdrop, while sparse strokes of cold silver paint outlined a slanted unsheathed long sword, the blade’s curve smooth and sharp. The blade’s body bore no extra embellishments, just near the hilt sprayed with several fine parallel lines—marks left by tempering, alternating shallow silver and deep gray, giving it a steel-like texture, sharp enough to seem like it could tear the air on the wall.
Below the sword was a short iron anvil, sprayed with blended black and ochre for tangible heaviness, its surface’s dents and edge’s wear subtly shaded with varying paints, as if forged by thousands of hammer blows. Alongside the anvil, a bright red spray line, neither long nor short, perfectly mimicked the shape of steel freshly taken from the furnace, vivid red with edges fading into light orange, seeming to radiate warmth.
What impressed Winslow most was Younan’s use of negative space and color utilization.
His own chaotic white paint on the wall was turned by Younan into quenched water splashes, lightly across where steel met blade, merging cold white and bright red into a striking contrast. A trace of light gray descended from the anvil, resembling the dust raised when hammers struck, blending reality with illusion.
Winslow couldn’t help but marvel at the painting’s perfection, every stroke precisely right, and the chaotic base colors turned into its texture and atmosphere.
What seemed casually sprayed was, in fact, each line, each color block capturing sword forging’s essence.
This graffiti piece exceptionally matched the theme of the Sword Forging Competition.
Winslow wasn’t originally interested in painting, but upon seeing Younan’s painting process firsthand, he felt a gentle jolt in a stirring corner of his heart.
His gaze fixed on the wall, he couldn’t help moving a few steps forward, carefully observing every detail.
The more he observed, the more stirred he felt.
It turned out, besides blades, painting was so fascinating.
He found himself liking painting besides blades, maybe he could have this young man create a painting for him.
Of course, he knew Li Younan.
After all, he had carefully watched Younan’s sword forging videos from the program team and had downloaded and rewatched them several times, thus his curiosity upon meeting him today and striking up a conversation.

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