Cherished By Seven Sisters Novel novel Chapter 756

Chapter 756 Who Dares Call Me A Fraud 

This time, the unkempt man didn’t push the brush away. Instead, he accepted it with a 

nod. 

Just like before, the crowd hushed, their anticipation palpable in the air. 

But unlike his previous display of wild fervor, he now embodied the epitome of concentration, his every stroke deliberate, every line filled with purpose. 

As time ticked by, the initially raucous and skeptical crowd began to fall silent, their disdain giving way to rapt attention. 

They were all staring, eyes wide, mouths agape at the unfolding masterpiece before them. 

Thirty minutes had passed, and the canvas was already half–filled. Even to the untrained eye, it was clear the man was painting an “Eagle on a Tree.” 

What was more, he had somehow captured that distinctive artistic conception synonymous with Emerentius‘ work. 

This was no small feat, considering the complexity and uniqueness of Emerentius‘ style. 

An eerie silence had enveloped the crowd. 

The man continued his work, unbothered by the awe he had inspired. 

Another half hour slipped by, and finally, the man ceased his brushwork. 

He had focused solely on the central part of the drawing paper leaving the periphery. untouched. 

Yet, within that central space, he had rendered a complete and breathtaking “Eagle on a 

Tree.” 

“Now, who dares call me a fraud?” he challenged, his voice cutting through the stunned silence like a knife. 

The crowd, momentarily lost in the shock of the revelation, was snapped back to reality by his scoff. It was unmistakable. 

It Is indeed Mr. Emerentius! 

JMB BN M 

Chapter 756 Who Dares Call Me A Fraud 

D 

* 11:40 

D 

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap! 

Suddenly, led by the crew–cut man, applause broke out, a spontaneous symphony of admiration and respect. 

The crowd’s perception of the unkempt man transformed in an instant. 

“I’ve always said he was Mr. Emerentius! But did you listen? No! And now, here we are. You can’t deny the evidence in front of your eyes,” one onlooker crowed triumphantly. 

“Exactly! I’ve never doubted it for a second. Mr. Emerentius‘ artistic essence is unmistakable. Such talent cannot be mimicked easily,” another voice added. 

“And as Mr. Emerentius himself said, you lot were nothing more than jesters, completely oblivious to the true essence of art. The first painting was a clear reflection of the master’s stream of consciousness. You were all blind not to see it.” 

“Mr. Emerentius, would you consider selling the clothes you’re wearing? Their natural look has really caught my eye.” 

The crowd, without needing any prompt from the crew–cut man, began to openly express their newfound respect and admiration for Emerentius. 

The onlookers‘ expressions morphed from skepticism to reverence, none wanting to be branded the “ignorant fool” Emerentius had derided. 

Emrys, watching this unfold, couldn’t help but feel a touch of amusement. 

Yet, there was a newfound respect for the unkept man. 

Replicating his own style had always seemed an insurmountable challenge, yet here it was, being done before his very eyes. 

It was evident that the unkempt man had put in quite the effort to mimic Emrys distinctive style of work.