Artist, system
First Training Ground
That morning, the sky was unusually high and clear.
Thin clouds drifted slowly, and sunlight spilled across the vast training field, reflecting off rows of neatly arranged seats. The entire space carried an indescribable sense of solemnity.
A gentle breeze passed through.
The flags on both sides swayed lightly, their soft flapping sounds like whispers foretelling an important moment about to descend.
Today was the day of class advancement.
A day many would remember for the rest of their lives.
On the high platform, Principal Diệp Thành stood upright. His hair was already streaked with gray, yet his back remained perfectly straight. He looked down at the crowd—hundreds of young, inexperienced faces, filled with both tension and aspiration.
“Today,” he began, his voice steady yet resonant, “is the day you undergo your class advancement.” “It is a turning point in your lives.” “From this moment on, many things will no longer be the same.”
He paused briefly.
The training ground grew so quiet that even breathing could be heard.
“This world reveres professions.” “But I want you to remember—”
Diệp Thành’s gaze swept across every student.
“You are, first and foremost, human.” “Only then come your professions.”
Thunderous applause erupted.
“Well said,” Thạch Lỗi tilted his head slightly and nudged Dạ Thiên with his elbow. “But I’m still nervous.”
“What’s there to be nervous about?” Dạ Thiên asked.
“You make it sound easy.” Thạch Lỗi gave a bitter smile. “This is our whole life we’re talking about.”
Dạ Thiên fell silent for a second, then said, “It’s just one part of the journey.”
Amid the crowd, Dạ Thiên clapped as well.
But his heart was calm.
Not feigned composure, but a genuine absence of turbulence.
He had lived a life before.
In his previous life, he had been a painter.
Not a celebrated genius, nor a pitiful soul living in hardship—just someone who painted to make a living, quietly, persistently, and clear-minded enough to know what he wanted.
Then he died.
And when he opened his eyes again, he had become Dạ Thiên of the Thiên Huyền world.
A world where professions determined status.
A world where a single class advancement could almost define an entire lifetime.
His father was Dạ Sơn—the head of the Dạ Corporation. His mother had once been a high-ranking support-type professional, renowned across the empire.
With just that background alone—
Many people could spend their entire lives without ever reaching such a height.
So to put it plainly—
Even if he awakened the most ordinary profession today, his life would not be too difficult.
“Thiên, hey.”
Thạch Lỗi’s voice pulled him back to reality.
The boy sitting beside him lowered his voice. “Diệp Huy is staring at you.”
Dạ Thiên tilted his head and glanced over.
In the distance, Diệp Huy sat upright, his gaze brimming with ambition and rivalry, unconcealed.
“He wants to beat you,” Thạch Lỗi said with a wry smile. “From grades to profession.”
Dạ Thiên chuckled softly.
“Is that so?”
“If he awakens a legendary-class profession, he’ll be insufferably smug,” Thạch Lỗi muttered.
“Then let him be,” Dạ Thiên replied.
“You’re not going to compete?”
Dạ Thiên shook his head. “Comparing is exhausting.”
There was no sarcasm. No disdain.
He simply… didn’t care.
He turned his gaze toward the center of the training ground.
The class advancement formation was already in operation, a faint glow flowing along its intricate carvings.
In that instant, a strange thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.
If this world had no professions… then what would people use to measure one another?
The thought lasted only a moment.
Then it faded.
Because he knew—
Today, this world would give him an answer.
----------------------
Names were called out one by one.
Lưu Húc stepped into the formation, his posture tense, sweat beading on his forehead.
A flash of light.
[Life-type Profession: Excavation Worker]
Some people sighed. Others offered words of comfort.
Next was Trương Khải.
[Life-type Profession: Hairdresser]
Laughter broke out, and the atmosphere lightened a little.
But as it went on—
silence gradually returned.
Because everyone understood.
Those earlier professions were merely the foundation.
What they were truly waiting for—were combat classes.
Then that name was called.
“Lâm Nhược Sơ.”
Golden light erupted.
A cold wind surged forth, snow falling beneath a clear sky.
[Epic-tier Combat Class: Blizzard Mage]
The entire training ground burst into an uproar.
Immediately after—
“Diệp Huy.”
Dark clouds churned overhead.
[Legendary-tier: Berserk Dragon Warrior]
Diệp Huy turned his head, his gaze sharp as a blade, locking onto Dạ Thiên.
“I will surpass you,” he said, not lowering his voice.
Dạ Thiên simply nodded.
“Let me say this first,” he replied calmly, “I have no intention of competing with you.”
Diệp Huy froze.
“You look down on me?”
“No,” Dạ Thiên said. “I’m just not interested.”
No argument. No retaliation.
Because—
it was finally his turn.
“Dạ Thiên.”
He stood up.
And stepped into the formation.
There were no grand phenomena. No golden light.
Only a faint blue glow enveloped him.
A paintbrush appeared in midair.
[Life-type Profession: Painter]
In that instant—
“Painter?” someone laughed.
“Drawing counts as a profession?”
“It’s just a life class.”
“That’s it for him.”
The world seemed to slow for a heartbeat.
Then the murmurs exploded.
But Dạ Thiên could no longer hear them clearly.
He looked at the brush.
It felt familiar.
Ordinary.
There was no disappointment in his heart.
Instead—
there was an indescribable sense of relief.
In his previous life, he painted to survive.
In this life—
he painted for himself.
----------------------
As the light of the formation gradually faded, silence returned to the surroundings.
Dạ Thiên had just stepped out of the formation. Before he could even adjust to the sunlight outside, an unfamiliar voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
It was not a human voice.
Nor did it resemble any form of mental transmission he had ever known.
[…]
The voice carried no emotion, no pressure.
It simply… existed.
Dạ Thiên halted mid-step.
His heartbeat skipped.
“What is this…?”
He had never encountered anything like this in the Tianxuan Realm.
In this world, professions, skills, and talents were all expressed through formations, through spiritual resonance.
No one had ever said… that a voice would appear inside one’s mind.
[Conditions met]
[Initiating synchronization]
In that instant, countless memories surfaced in Dạ Thiên’s mind.
The novels he had read in his previous life.
Concepts that had once existed only on paper.
“...A system?”
The words appeared in his thoughts, tinged with uncertainty.
Not a confirmation.
Just an attempt to name it.
The voice did not seem to care about his speculation.
[Synchronization complete]
[Authority confirmed]
[Awakening: Painter System]
Dạ Thiên stood still.
There was no excitement.
No panic either.
Only… a strange feeling rising within him.
As if something that did not belong to this world—
was quietly taking root inside him.
[Compatible profession: Painter]
[Creative Path established]
“A path…?”
Dạ Thiên narrowed his eyes slightly.
In the Tianxuan Realm, a profession was the result—
not the path.
But the voice offered no explanation.
It simply continued presenting information.
[Initial reward]
[Obtained: Primordial Brush]
In an instant, an ancient, unadorned brush appeared before him.
There were no grand phenomena.
No surging spiritual power.
It simply floated quietly in midair.
Yet the moment Dạ Thiên’s gaze fell upon it—
his heart trembled.
Not because it was powerful.
But because… it felt familiar.
A sensation difficult to describe.
As if this object had belonged in his hand for a very long time.
[Item: Hong Mong pen ]
[Description: A primal tool of creation, capable of turning thoughts into reality]
[Note: Current permissions incomplete]
“Turn thoughts… into reality?”
Dạ Thiên repeated inwardly.
If such words were spoken in the Tianxuan Realm—
they would be dismissed as nonsense.
But he did not laugh.
Because he could feel it—
the brush was gently resonating with his mind.
[Creative Power: 1000]
Immediately after, a semi-transparent panel appeared before him.
It was unlike a formation.
Nor was it a projection of spiritual power.
It felt like something… that did not belong to this world.
————————
[Name]: Dạ Thiên
[Profession]: Painter
[Level]: 0
[Mental Power]: 120 / 120
[Creative Power]: 1000
[Innate Talent]: Creative Perception
[Description]: During the act of creation, one can more easily grasp the underlying nature of things
————————
Dạ Thiên stared at the status panel for a long time.
There was no exhilaration.
No sense of “beginning a grand destiny.”
Only one clear thought.
This thing… does not belong to the Tianxuan Realm.
Where did it come from?
Why did it choose him?
There were no answers.
The panel flickered slightly, then dissipated like thin mist.
Only the brush remained, falling into his hand.
Dạ Thiên lowered his head, looking at the Primordial Brush.
After a moment, he smiled faintly.
“Looks like…”
“If I want to understand what you are…”
“…I can only try drawing it myself.”
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