MTL - Heads Up Hollywood - Chapter 7 he's a genius

Born into a wealthy family, Gu Shenwei was spoiled and carefree. However, at the age of 14, his entire family were brutally murdered, and he was caught by some bandits who sold him into slavery. As a slave boy, he entered Golden Roc Fort by chance and found the man who had slaughtered his family. He endured insults and worked hard to improve his kung fu while working as a slave boy. He learned from and plotted against his enemy under the enemy’s nose. He became increasingly ambitious as he became more and more powerful. He would only be satisfied if he completely destroyed his enemy—by fair means or foul. Gradually his bitter experience turned him into a totally different person.

This is a kung fu fiction that is full of mysteries and surprises. This is a story dealing with love, betrayals and distances. This is the journey of an ordinary boy who, against all odds, fought against formidable foes. This is a tale regarding a person who felt abandoned by the world made unremitting efforts to create a new world of his own, in which he was alone.

- Description from Novelupdates

The clock struck midnight when Ruelle heard the echo of footsteps. She tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the cool night air.“You shouldn't be here,” Ruelle whispered, her voice a breathless murmur. The silhouette finally came to stand under the moonlight, his dark red eyes watching her and his inky black hair ruffling.“Shouldn't I?” His voice was a dark caress, and she stood there captivated by the danger he exuded like perfume.“I haven’t seen you for the last two days,” his tone low. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of her nightgown, tracing the trembling outline of her collarbone. “Tell me, were you avoiding me, or perhaps... entertaining other offers?”Ruelle’s heart raced, her breaths shallow. She declared, “I don't belong to anyone.”“A bold claim,“ he murmured, his breath a tantalising chill against her skin as he leaned in. ”Yet here you are, pulse racing, your body tensed as if in anticipation of my touch.”His fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. The moonlight caught his eyes, revealing a glint of predatory intent. “Or must I remind you whose touch you truly crave?”

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.

“If you were the supreme master of the Dao of Immortals, revered by countless beings, able to glimpse life and death, and understand the destiny, what kind of woman would you seek as a partner?”Jiang Feng: “I would marry an eighteen-year-old.”“...do you want to die?”“I'd rather die to marry an eighteen-year-old.”