A scene as gorgeous as fireworks, but also as fleeting as fireworks.
The meteors were spinning or dimming very quickly, and when everything stopped, the starry sky was filled with chaos and disorder.
And almost instantly, Fu Qian felt some unspeakable danger.
It seems that the previous promise has been fulfilled. As the master of dreams, he has finally developed some high-end skills.
During the self-praise, Fu Qian could already clearly feel the surging pressure that the mythical form brought to the body as time went by.
The feeling is no longer that the blood bar is leaking wildly, but that the fuel gauge is in danger of not being able to see the value at all.
But there was still no cancellation before payment.
The next moment, he completely focused his perspective on the painting in "reality", not letting go of any information.
At the moment when the starry sky was chaotic and turbulent during the disaster just now, as the master of dreams, he was keenly aware that some kind of wonderful changes also occurred - the existence of the real world corresponding to the dream became blurred.
This small space becomes excluded from other parts.
On the contrary, in the real clear dream at this moment, the connection with the surroundings is smoother.
At that moment, I believed that everything, be it humans or insects, could enter this dream without hindrance.
Just like what the vampires did tonight.
…
Patterns, colors, shapes, textures...many elements spread out before your eyes.
Under the full gaze of the gods, everything contained in the painting is unreserved in front of them.
This painting at this moment can almost be called a real nightmare.
How can professionals give up so easily?
Despite the iron-fisted push, the truth is becoming increasingly clear and increasingly pessimistic.
But Fu Qian has always had good and inhuman thinking habits.
For example, the methodology mentioned to Ms. Barrie at the meeting is to abandon any prejudice about whether the premise is tenable and directly use it as the basis for derivation.
So no matter the result of the investigation, it was meaningless to tell him that everything was meaningless. Fu Qian never gave up on a certain idea, that is, what would happen if this painting was really in a nightmare?
Without the binding definition of the law, would it still have any meaning left?
…
Imagination is one thing, but it is not easy to create such an effect in this world.
Although due to recent events, it has almost become a daily routine for people in the sect to have nightmares.
Even when he and Reginald explored the dream hospital together, he brought the pocket watch lady inside.
But in essence, it is still just a projection of the object itself.
You see, it wasn't until the nightmare came out that he gave himself the "trophy" to show that the sect would not take unnecessary advantage.
Because the words I told myself in the dream were immediately exposed when I came out and found that my pocket watch was not there.
What I have to do is to put the painting itself into a situation where the stars have abandoned it, and use all available resources.
As early as in the misty town, Fu Qian had already made up his mind, which is why he asked Amira to ask for leave for him.
Determining where to draw in advance can save time to the greatest extent.
And despite taking huge risks, it seemed that the time had finally come to test the idea.
It even seemed like the risk was truly lived up to.
From Fu Qian's perspective, a certain abstract concept surges out of the painting bit by bit and sweeps around.
It's hard to describe it accurately in words. If I had to describe it, it was like everything around was dehydrating, collapsing, and finally being smeared on the paper like paint.
There was no resistance before the payment was made, and even the mythical form was cancelled.
The next moment, a darker night swept over.
…
In the extremely dim light, Fu Qian looked through the colored window at the howling wind and snow outside.
Without looking back, he knew that he was no longer in the art museum.
Because the shape of this window was actually somewhat familiar to him.
Moving his eyes downward, Fu Qian looked at the huge painting board in front of him.
Next to the drawing board is a high stool with several paintbrushes and dried paint trays.
Everything is a familiar scene, and it seems that it has never changed.
Only this time, there was no figure sitting on the high stool to give directions.
Yes, I was very sure before paying that I was in the place where I was invited to recreate the world of painting, that small hidden studio.
In addition to the fact that the witch is no longer there, the painting on the drawing board in front of me has also been changed.
Although the color was also a bit old, Fu Qian could still recognize at a glance the place where he currently works - Laerting's Art Museum.
The painting in the art gallery is here, and the painting here is in the art gallery?
To the outside, the world is a painting, but to the inside, the outside world is a painting?
There is a kind of conjugation beauty.
He nodded slightly before paying, feeling deeply novel.
The normal state is naturally the former, but when the outside world is abandoned by the stars, the situation begins to tilt towards the latter? So you have the feeling of being smeared on paper?
He didn't think that the outside world was really painted like this. Compared with the previous one, the power of the painting in front of him was obviously much weaker. It was hard to imagine that it could support such a city.
It feels more like using this special method to save a hidden entrance to this world.
"I know why you didn't dare to show your shame at that time."
After carefully looking at it, he sighed and said to himself before paying.
"This painter is even worse than Tan Ying."
…
There is almost no doubt that the painting in front of you is the work of His Holiness the Pope.
Fu Qian was not biased because of this and still gave a fair evaluation.
After confirming that nothing was missing, he left the studio without staying before paying.
The layout is still the same as in memory, but it has undergone more vicissitudes than the last time I came here.
Even the night in the snowstorm was too dark and dark.
However, you can see that the parts buried by snow when we last came have been cleaned up.
Considering that it was chosen as the Dark Moon Church, it was consistent with what I saw on the phone.
It's just that at this moment, the festive splendor of the last communication with the witch can no longer be seen.
Along the way, there was no life to speak of, and even the seven lights in the sky had long since dissipated.
The deathly silence that completely enveloped the surroundings, and even the sound of Fu Qian's footsteps that he did not deliberately control, could not affect him in the slightest.
Of course, the dim light has no effect on the actions taken beforehand.
Recalling the structure in my memory, Fu Qian walked continuously through the darkness.
Squeak!
And at a certain moment, he stopped, raised his hand and pushed open a door in front of him, and looked in expressionlessly.
Amidst the slightly harsh voice, a familiar grand palace came into view.
At the end of the hall, a figure was leaning on an exquisite and ornate bench, with his hand on the side of his face, as if he was sleeping soundly.