Urban System in America-Chapter 145 - 144: Banter Between Master And Discple

As Rex’s car disappeared down the street, the city lights reflecting off its tinted windows, Luna stood still in front of the store, fists clenched at her sides, her breath still uneven. Her brows were furrowed—not in anger, but frustration.

She had seen the painting.

She had seen him.

And now he was gone.

She closed her eyes for a second, replaying the moment when the painting revealed its final stroke. The rawness, the depth, the pain, the peace—it was unlike anything she’d ever seen. The brushstrokes were chaotic yet deliberate, like emotions pouring directly from soul to canvas.

It stirred something inside her. Something deep and forgotten.

But now he was gone.

"Damn it," she whispered.

The store owner gave her a curious glance. "You know him?"

"No," she muttered. "But I want to."

He raised a brow. "Hmph. You’re not the only one. That crowd looked ready to carve him into a shrine."

She gave him a side glance but didn’t argue. Instead, she turned on her heel and strode away, pulling out her phone.

Luna: Master, I need a favor. Urgently.

A moment later, a reply popped up.

Master: Ohho~ What does my dear disciple need help with?

Luna: Master, I need you to help me find a person.>_<

Master: Oh, Who is it that caught my dear disciple’s eye? Is this a boy?Do you need master to give you some advice? or propose on your behalf? (¬‿¬)

Luna: MASTER!...

Master: No need to be shy! Back in the day, your master was called ’Thousand Flowers, One Heart’... though sometimes they just called me ’Heartbreaker Sage.’ I left a trail of tears from Kyoto to Paris!

Luna: Ughhh! Should I tell your wife? I think she’d be very interested in hearing about your international escapades.

In a quiet, sunlit private studio filled with canvases, scrolls, and ancient calligraphy brushes. a middle-aged man with a graying ponytail, thick-rimmed glasses, and a teasing look on his face was sitting leisurely sipping tea, but seeing the reply, choked on his tea. Cough, cough.

He hurriedly replied.

Master: (⊙_☉) Ahem! That was all in the distant past. That era is over. It was a... misunderstood artistic phase. Ancient history. Barely counts.

Luna: Sure, sure. Let me just scroll through my contacts real quick. What’s her name saved as again? Dragon Empress?

Master: "...You wouldn’t."

Luna (grinning smugly): "Oh, I would."

Master (throwing himself dramatically onto a pile of cushions): "Cruel! Unfilial! After all I’ve done for you!"

Luna: "Master, you once forgot my birthday and gave me a half-finished sculpture as a gift. A sculpture of yourself, I might add."

Master (sitting up, offended): "That was a brilliant piece of self-reflection! Symbolic!"

Luna (sighing, rubbing her temples): "Anyway, are you done? I’m being serious. I saw someone today. A painter. Young. Insanely talented.I just saw one of his paintings and... I can’t explain it.

It was on another level. Like something timeless.

Then the crowd swarmed and I lost him before I could speak to him.

Master (intrigued now, tone shifting):Oho... That’s rare. You’re not easily impressed and that kind of impact? From one painting?

Luna: He is. I’ve never seen anything like it. I want to find him, that’s why I’m texting you.

Master: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) So it is a boy.

Luna: MASTER

Master: Alright, alright. You want me to pull some strings, use my underground artist network and find your mysterious Picasso Prince?

Luna: Yes. And if you tried anything weird, don’t blame me when Dragon Empress of West Kitchen comes to kill you.

Master: Ughh! How did I end up with such a vengeful disciple? Anyway, describe him.

Face? Style? Aura? Brushstroke personality?

Blood type? Zodiac?

Luna: No idea. I didn’t even get his name.

But I can describe his painting perfectly.

Master: Art is a fingerprint.

That’ll be enough.

Send me everything you remember.

Luna: "It was... a city at dusk. Not any city I recognized. But it felt familiar—like a memory from a dream. The way he painted light... the shadows... it wasn’t just a scene. It spoke. You didn’t just see it. You felt it."

Master: Wait Is this about the ’painting incident’ trending online?

Her eyes widened.

Luna: Wait... trending?

Master: You really have no idea, do you? The painting’s already been shared across private collectors’ forums for now and will soon be trending on social media, as it was first shared there.

Luna: That’s his?

Master: Yes. It was captured by someone in the crowd. Blurry, but still vivid enough. According to your details, I think it’s the same boy.

Her breath caught. This was escalating fast.

Luna: Can you find him? The artist, I mean?

Master: Already working on it. Anyone with that much raw talent and mystery... well, he won’t stay hidden for long.

Luna smiled softly and looked back toward the store, her heart pounding with something she hadn’t felt in a long time—excitement.

—

Meanwhile, Across the CityUnaware of the flurry of messages and whispers unfolding elsewhere, Rex drove through the quiet streets, the hum of the engine steady beneath him. He leaned back slightly in his seat, finally letting his shoulders ease.

The scent of fresh paint still clung faintly to his fingers, and the sensation of the brush moving instinctively across the canvas lingered in his mind like a phantom memory.

The painting—his painting—lay on the back seat, still radiating with every ounce of his spirit.

His hands rested on the wheel, but his mind drifted.

For the first time in this world, he had created something with his hands. Not with code, not with money, not with manipulation—but with his heart.

And it had moved people.

He could still see their faces—stilled mid-motion, eyes wide, lips parted in awe. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected them to feel what he had felt.

He leaned back in the seat, a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. Satisfaction, maybe? No, it was something deeper.

Validation.

He could do it. He could create in this world too.

He chuckled. "All that training in the timeless realm wasn’t a waste after all."

But he knew this was just the beginning. That painting was a test, a warm-up. He was capable of far more than this, and he couldn’t even imagine the scene if he really tried his best.

(End of Chapter)