“Neither do I. Don’t judge when you can’t even draw.”
“Can someone who can’t draw simply comment on Master Lacroix’s artwork? That’s pretty shameless.”
“I think the master’s painting is perfect. Why is that girl acting like she’s very knowledgeable about art?”
The crowd’s criticisms were getting harsher and harsher.
However, happiness glowed inside May Conner when she heard them. ‘You’re dead this time, Xyla…’
“I might have known nothing about French paintings before. But how can you be so sure that I’m still the same after so many years?” Xyla Quest met her eyes apathetically.
“Do you think that French painting is something that can be learned overnight?” May jabbed, “Besides, learning it and mastering it are two different cases…”
“That’s right. Are you even qualified to judge Master Lacroix? Paint yourself then if you’re so good at it.”
“Is Master Lacroix someone who can be simply attacked by a novice painter? Show us your paintings if you think you’re better than Master Lacroix!”
“Do you even know how to respect seniors? Stop acting like an attention seeker…”
The onlookers surrounding them were getting indignant at the way Xyla behaved.
Sharon Lindt kept a straight face the whole time, coldly scanning the crowds and May. “Do you guys want to be dragged out by my bodyguards? How do you know if Xyla is good or bad at painting? What does it have to do with you?”
“This girl is right. I did not paint this picture with enough care and concentration…” Suddenly, a man’s voice echoed across the hall.
There and then, everyone subconsciously looked in the direction of that voice.
A white-haired elder dressed in a traditional tunic gradually came into sight. He made his way through the crowd and walked up to Xyla directly.
Everyone in the hall recognized the old man at once.
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