
Artes was momentarily dazed, watching the light and shadows dance in the attic, as the dreams in his mind gradually faded away, replaced by an unprecedented inspiration.
He got out of bed, neglecting even to wash up, and picked up his brush to pour his inspiration onto the cheap canvas he had set up on the floor.
With every stroke, deep and shallow, various colors blended on the canvas. His brushwork had become completely different from the past, skilled and infused with an inexplicable charisma. If anyone had stood in the attic at that moment to watch him create, they would have been touched by that pure passion.
Soon, a painting that could astonish the world was completed. Artes was sweating profusely from his intense engagement, yet his eyes were surprisingly bright.
He stared at the oil painting in front of him, hardly believing that this was his creation. The emptiness that followed the burst of inspiration left him weak, almost unsteady on his feet, yet he was unwilling to tear his gaze away.
In the painting before him was a vast sea of stars, just as astronomers discussed in various papers. Each celestial body was unique, emitting a mysterious and enchanting glow. This world, billions of light-years away, was so strange and magnificent that every inch of color seemed to contain some unfathomable universal truth. The twinkling of celestial bodies was fully displayed in the painting, making anyone who gazed upon it feel an innate sense of insignificance, immersing them in the boundless universe.
Artes stared blankly for a long time until the sun was high in the sky. He finally emerged from that indescribable state of immersion, his unkempt flaxen hair covering his pale yet flushed cheeks.
He paced back and forth in the attic, deeply nostalgic for that beautiful dream, while the painting before him, far beyond his abilities, surprised and intimidated him.
He was delighted that he could create such a perfect piece but was apprehensive about how to handle it.
In truth, Artes was very reluctant to sell this masterpiece of his.
He affectionately stroked the rough frame of the oil painting, too afraid to touch the oil colors on the canvas, feeling an immense sense of satisfaction with this oil painting he had personally created.
This starry sea oil painting possessed an inexplicable allure, even stirring a greedy desire within him to hide the painting away, preventing anyone from gazing upon it.
It felt as if a terrible devil was whispering in his ear, insisting that there would never be a more perfect and captivating piece than this, and he should not let it leave him.
However, becoming a world-renowned painter had always been Artes' dream, and he sensed that this painting was the key to making that dream come true!
Dreams and desires intertwined in Artes' mind, and in the end, his bloodshot eyes and slightly deranged expression compelled him to wrap the wooden frame and canvas with layer after layer of cloth, concealing everything within.
Then, after confirming that the painting would not be easily damaged, Artes carefully cradled it and stepped out from the filthy, cramped attic, nervously alert to anyone passing by, fearful that someone might ruin his painting.
He walked through the streets flowing with sewage, avoiding the steam engines belching black smoke, and arrived at the most luxurious gallery in the Misty Continent—the Muse Gallery.
The ivory-white columns loomed at the front of the gallery, and the arched dome formed the entrance. The cross-shaped design allowed one to see straight down the long corridor from outside, adorned with countless beautiful decorations.
The red carpet, white walls, and the latest expensive white tungsten lamps were everywhere in the long corridor of the gallery, and numerous pieces in gilded frames sparkled under the lights.
Artes envied the expensive works inside the gallery, as well as the upper-class nobles walking around, feeling somewhat ashamed of himself, and he couldn't help but step back a few paces.
But then he remembered the perfection of the painting in his arms, and suddenly felt emboldened. Gathering his courage, he stepped towards the gallery, wanting to showcase his labor of love to the owner.
“Beggers are not allowed in here!”
The gallery's doorman stopped Artes, disdainfully lifting his chin after scanning Artes' shabby appearance.
“I’m not a beggar! I’m a painter! I’m here to sell my painting! Call your master out!” Artes was quite proud and noticed the doorman's contempt. His face flushed, and his voice raised several decibels.
The doorman's expression became even more dismissive. He spoke more rudely, hurling various insults at Artes, which made him furious.
At first, he just wanted to try his luck, but now, enraged by the doorman's insults, Artes swore he would make this man pay dearly for his humiliation.
Thus, Artes charged recklessly into the gallery. The doorman immediately raised his baton menacingly, ready to throw this disheveled vagrant out for daring to trespass.
Artes was beaten down and could only protect the painting in his arms, fearing even the slightest tear in the cloth.
After a while, the chaos at the gallery entrance eventually drew the attention of the owner. Artes thought he was saved and revealed a hopeful gaze.
However, the portly nobleman was not as friendly and amiable as Artes had imagined. Instead, he covered his nose with a handkerchief in disgust, as if he had sensed the foul odor that only the poor possessed, signaling to the doorman to throw Artes far away, not to waste time on the gallery’s business.
Bang—!!!
Artes was tossed into a dark alley like a dead dog by two doormen, his face bruised and swollen, but his hands still tightly clutching the painting in his arms.
After a long pause, Artes managed to stand up with great effort, glaring resentfully at the Muse Gallery. The hatred in his heart seeped into the painting, transforming the profound darkness of the starry sea into a sinister black.
He would take revenge! He would make those who humiliated him pay dearly!
Artes muttered to himself while clutching the painting, his mind seemingly unstable. He staggered out of the dark alley, seeking another gallery. He was a genius painter, and there would always be someone who appreciated him, there must be, there definitely would be!
With this unwavering belief, Artes walked away.
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In the Real World
Ke Su paused the game screen, feeling as if he were watching a movie; it was quite interesting.
After closing the game, he glanced out the window at the sky, yawned, and prepared to go to bed. He had to go to the hospital for a check-up tomorrow, so it was better to sleep early.
After a simple wash-up, Ke Su got into bed, thinking about his unexpected windfall of ten thousand yuan, feeling quite cheerful, and soon fell asleep.
The red dot on the computer monitor continued to blink, especially prominent in the dark room that sank into endless chaotic darkness as Ke Su fell asleep.
At the same time, many executors in the Special Incident Department of the City of Li were still working overtime.
“Captain, are these files... reliable?”
The newly appointed deputy captain, Zhao Jun, frowned as he looked at the supernatural files on the computer screen, his expression grave.
He had seen supernatural incident files before, but something felt very off about the ones he was looking at this time.
Although these records were entered by headquarters and were theoretically completely trustworthy, Zhao Jun casually scanned a few files and quickly noticed the strange aspects.
That is, the information in these files detailing supernatural incidents were all about events that had not yet occurred.
Some even specifically indicated that the outbreak date was uncertain, happening on a future date, and the number of casualties from the incident was clearly marked, so real that Zhao Jun felt an absurd sense of time travel.
To receive such detailed supernatural incident files before they had even happened truly made him doubt their authenticity.
“It was sent by the newly appointed Kun Deming, the director, who said it was obtained from a supernatural artifact that couldn't convey specific information regarding these unregulated supernatural incidents.”
Looking at these files with unknown sources, Captain Li Chu hesitated but ultimately chose to trust his superior.
“Since the Director dared to send this over, it means he has already proven the accuracy of this information to the base. You have to know that our headquarters still has many hidden powers. From what I know, there is an unpredictable seer, and it cannot be baseless. I believe in the authenticity of these files.”
Li Chu patted Zhao Jun on the shoulder, signaling him to relax and not to be overly tense, always doubting the headquarters.
Looking at Li Chu's solemn face, Zhao Jun was taken aback for a moment, then self-deprecatingly relaxed.
The cruel life in the Overseer space made him overly vigilant. Even after leaving the Overseer space, he was always suspicious and doubtful about the authenticity of various commands during recent missions.
The team leader was right; he should learn to trust his comrades. After all, when facing supernatural events, all humanity is on the same front line.
“Yes! Captain!”
Zhao Jun saluted and began to carefully review the supernatural files.
The first file he looked at was titled Puppet Hospital. It was classified as an S-grade supernatural event, possessing the ability for free movement, capable of roaming between cities, and would cause at least 50,000 deaths in the future.
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