The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion! Chapter 19: Old Acquaintance

No matter how many tis she washed it, Elsa couldn’t get the foul, fishy sll out of her hair.

She had used soap, hair oil, lye, and even tried all sorts of strange folk redies. Her hair was starting to get split ends from all the washing, but the reek of shrimp oil mixed with shrimp brains simply wouldn’t go away.

’Hasn’t anyone invented sothing specifically for washing hair?’

To cover up the sll, she splurged on an expensive bottle of perfu for 79 Silver Coins and sprayed it on her hair.

You couldn’t say the money was wasted. It definitely slled fragrant now. It just also slled foul, creating a bizarre combination.

In her ntor’s parlor, Elsa and Zog were waiting for Lady Furin Uman to return from her class.

Their plan was to rope Furin into creating the Illusion Technique effects for *Holy Mountain Journey*.

Although most of the plot took place inside a car, there were a few grand scenes that were beyond Elsa’s capabilities. For those, they had no choice but to ask a Legendary Illusionist.

Yes, the ntor to a re Level Two Illusionist like Elsa was a Legendary Illusionist. This wasn’t so great sha on the lineage; after all, one could say Elsa had arguably inherited a solid three percent of the true teachings.

The main reason was that Illusionists were simply too rare, and qualified teachers were in desperately short supply. Of the few hundred Illusionists in the world, more than half had been taught by Furin.

Elsa, however, felt the plan was unrealistic. Furin was absurdly wealthy. When Elsa had studied under her, she could use all sorts of precious Magic Materials whenever she pleased. It was said that Furin’s private collection surpassed even that of the Sutton Royal Family.

’Zog’s usual tactic of throwing money at the problem definitely won’t work here. And my ntor is too smart to be fooled by any smoke and mirrors.’

’How are we going to convince her to work on this "Shadow of Evil" thing that nobody’s ever even heard of?’

Furin liked paintings, so Zog had prepared one for Elsa to give her as a gift.

Elsa had seen the painting, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It was just a pile of crooked, twisted lines, like a child’s doodle.

’How is *that* supposed to impress Lady Furin?’

’If we can’t win her over, we won’t have anyone for the Illusion Techniques. If there are no Illusion Techniques, the Shadow of Evil will be a flop. If it’s a flop, Zog won’t make any money. And if he doesn’t make any money, who’s going to give a promotion and a raise...?’

Compared to the anxiety-ridden Elsa, Zog appeared even more nervous.

He started by pacing back and forth in the parlor, then began banging his head against a pillar, and finally, he even chewed on a couple of leaves from the flowerpot in the corner.

"What are you doing? The attendant has been staring at you for a while now," Elsa whispered.

"Do you think I should wear a mask?"

"Huh?" ’Oh no, he’s not even answering my question. Has this Dragon lost his mind?’

"She probably won’t recognize ."

"Who?"

Just then, the parlor door was pushed open. A woman strode in, her presence commanding. She stood nearly six-foot-three, with skin as white as snow, shoulder-length blonde hair, and a face as exquisite as an Elf’s, minus the pointed ears.

Lady Furin Uman had returned.

Elsa scrambled to her feet and bowed.

"Oh, isn’t this dear little Elsa." Contrary to her imposing appearance, Furin was quite amiable. She even rembered every one of her students—including the poor soul who took ten years just to reach Level Two.

"And who is this?" Furin asked, her gaze falling on Zog, who was trying to hide behind Elsa.

"Um... my pet Sub-Dragon."

"Is that so?" Furin seed intrigued. She crossed over to Zog in a few strides, leaned down, and stared intently at his draconic head.

"ntor?"

"Shhh—"

With a sudden tug, Furin grabbed Zog by his front claws and hoisted him into the air.

Even in his shrunken form, Zog weighed over 130 pounds, yet she lifted him as easily as a child. Mages were clearly a robust bunch.

Furin inspected him carefully from head to toe, then said abruptly, "So, Zog went and had a Sub-Dragon with so... *thing* behind my back?"

’Ooh, what’s the story here?’

Elsa’s face was a picture of soone who had just stumbled upon so pri gossip.

"Wait!" Furin exclaid, noticing Zog’s molten-lava eyes. "You’re not... you’re Zog, aren’t you?"

Zog stayed silent, playing dumb.

Furin continued to mock him. "Don’t tell the great Calamity Incarnate, the Ancient Red Dragon Zog, shrank himself down just to sneak into the city? Tsk, tsk. To think there’s actually a Dragon who’s lived this long and still hasn’t mastered the Transformation Technique!"

Zog finally couldn’t take it anymore. "ROAR! (I just can’t keep my balance without a tail!)"

"Then transform."

"ROAR! (Your taunts are useless!)"

"So you can’t do it. It’s fine, you’re cute when you’re little. I don’t mind."

Elsa was surprised to discover that even though Zog was red from head to toe, it was apparently possible for his face to turn an even deeper shade of red.

"ROAR! (None of your damn business, you Golden Dragon who couldn’t even eat her own eggshell properly at birth!)"

"Oh, I’m hardly in your league. Acting as my student’s pet... what would you have to call , then?"

Elsa was in shock. ’What did I just hear? Lady Furin is a Golden Dragon!’

"ROAR! (Who said I’m her pet! You’re the sha of the Dragon Race, getting scamd out of thousands of Gold Coins by a crooked art dealer!)"

"And who was it that picked up a piece of glass, insisted it was jadeite, and then tried to argue that modern artisans just can’t make glass that good?"

"ROAR! (Sha of the Dragon Race!)"

"Takes one to know one."

Elsa watched, wide-eyed, as the two Dragons argued back and forth like children, dredging up old embarrassnts with the devastating logic of a schoolyard spat.

Just as she was trying to figure out how to de-escalate the tension between the two Dragons...

Furin suddenly pulled Zog into a hug, her voice softening. "It’s been a long ti. I thought you’d been killed by the Divine Race."

"It takes more than that to kill ."

Elsa’s big eyes were filled with bewildernt. ’Wait a minute... I was here first.’

A few minutes later, peace was restored in the parlor.

"So, you ca to see because you want my help using Illusion Technique to film sothing called..."

"A Shadow of Evil."

"Right, a Shadow of Evil. Is it sothing like a recording Magic?"

"It can record several tis more content than a standard recording Magic, and it can be projected anywhere."

Furin tapped her fingers on the back of her chair. After a mont’s consideration, she said, "An interesting idea. But for a Golden Dragon, everything has its price, does it not?"

This was the reasonable thing about Golden Dragons: they took your paynt and actually did the job. If this had been the old Zog, before his "career change," he’d have kept the item *and* demanded a ransom for the person who brought it.

Zog gestured for Elsa to take out the painting.

Elsa felt a little awkward. In her opinion, the painting was wholly unimpressive, and she handed it over sheepishly.

Furin accepted the painting. At first glance, she thought it was a child’s doodle. The paper held nothing but branching black lines and so fainter, curving strokes.

And yet, it had a strange appeal. The simple lines seed to flow like water, and an unseen water line split the black branches into a plant and its reflection.

It was a subtle effect. The very simplicity of the image seed to convey sothing deeper, a complete departure from the currently popular style of ticulously polished detail. And yet, it was unexpectedly vivid.

"What is this painting called?"

"*New Willows, Withered Lotuses.*"

"Withered Lotuses?"

Furin stared, srized, at the paper. She raised a hand and conjured an Illusion, transforming the parlor floor into a lotus pond.

With a turn of her wrist, ti within the Illusion flew forward. The blooming lotuses weathered autumn and winter, their flowers fading and leaves withering, until in the early spring, they stood in stark contrast to newly sprouting willow branches.

It was a perfect match for the lines on the paper.

"Who painted this?"

"Wu Guanzhong."

"Wu Guanzhong? What a strange na. Is he from another Continent?"

"Perhaps."

"What is this style of painting called?"

"Xieyi."

"Xieyi... Xieyi..." Furin murmured, lost in thought. As a renowned art collector, she had studied painting herself, but she had never seen anyone paint like this. ’Perhaps I should give it a try,’ she thought.

"Alright, I’ll help you with your Shadow of Evil. If you can find more of Wu’s paintings, we can have a long-term partnership."

"To a successful partnership."

This was, of course, not an original Wu Guanzhong, but rely Zog’s imitation of his style.

True creativity lies in the initial breakthrough; imitation is always far easier.

Zog had given Furin this imitation to accelerate this world’s artistic evolution from realism to abstraction. This would be crucial for the art design needed for the gas he planned to create in the future.

After all, Zog couldn’t do everything himself. One individual’s cultural superiority couldn’t bring about an ultimate cultural victory.

Perhaps the seed of *Xieyi* planted today would one day grow into a power capable of unsettling the Deities.