"It's awesome, Mr. Lazarus. The first time I saw this thing, even I was shocked!"
Belphegor cheered loudly, and the train on the screen was heading towards the audience. It had an indescribable sense of reality, and Bologg's body became tense uncontrollably, as if he was really going to hit the train head-on.
The train ran off the screen.
Boluogo could smell the smell of burning coal and hear the roar between the gears. The moment the train got infinitely close to him, it turned into an illusory phantom and disappeared before his eyes.
"Ha ha!"
Belphegor's laughter was endless. Guys like him were definitely not popular in the cinema.
As a movie lover, Bologo knew what this was, "The Train Arrives", the first movie in human history, and possibly the first horror movie. It was the first time that the audience saw the weird "movie"
The oncoming train frightened many people.
"This thing is amazing. Compared to poetry and music, the information it can carry is undoubtedly the richest and most complex."
Belphegor agreed, and the film's soundtrack became more gorgeous, and the pictures became clearer and even colored.
Poets like this new thing, and their functions are no longer limited to "poetry". They have devoted themselves to the new wave, bringing countless films to Belphegor every year.
Boluogo's heart was still tense. The friendly relationship between humans and devils in the film was only temporary. After the Dawn War, this continent would usher in another crazy war.
Soon, the wrath of the scorched earth broke out.
This is not an ordinary film, but a fragment of memory extracted from the soul. It is not a false performance, but the reality engraved in the soul.
Everything Bologo sees is the poet's first perspective, which not only brings real pictures, but also gives the audience real emotions.
The long-lost feeling returned to his body. In a trance, Bologo felt that he was back on the battlefield, becoming a member of the charge forward to die. The shells made a loud roar when they landed on Bologo's body.
On the other hand, Boluogo had no means of evasion and could only leave everything to the mercy of fate.
Bologo died. He was blown to pieces by the cannonball. The next moment he opened his eyes again and became another soldier. He continued to charge forward, then died, resurrected, died, and resurrected. He did not know how many times he repeated this.
Boluogo understood that he was not really resurrected, but that after the death of one poet, his perspective switched to another poet.
Different poets saw different aspects of war. Some saw the king groveling, some saw the great scholar defending his city, and some saw the demons gathering together to plan something...
A bright light rose from the ground and annihilated everything.
Boluogo's face was pale. He could feel the high temperature hitting his face, the phantom pain of burning fire coming from his body, and his body was shaking slightly.
Finally, all this chaos was over. Bologger took a deep breath, picked up the popcorn bucket, and vomited vigorously.
Belphegor brought him through this long history. Although it was only a cursory glance, the excessive information almost overwhelmed Boluogo's head and gave him a splitting headache.
"You're a bad director...what did you edit..."
Burlogo kept vomiting, and he felt like he was about to vomit out his intestines.
In the past, Burlogo liked the montage editing technique, but Belphegor cut it out for more than an hour. Under the harsh noise, it felt like a nightmare, a waking nightmare.
"Don't you think I perfectly expressed the depression and madness of war?"
Belphegor thought he was great, but Bologger didn't know how to appreciate it.
Boluogo wiped the corners of his mouth but did not refute.
"Ah... after this war, the world has ushered in peace, and emerging technologies have brought more and more beautiful things." Belphegor stared at the screen with a look of obsession. "All kinds of artistic creations are blooming, and births are born every day.
There are more new works than those produced in the past few years, and it’s dazzling.”
"Sometimes I feel that my soul is not that important to me anymore. It is enough to live in such a world and watch the birth of such beautiful things."
It was rare for Belphegor to express his sincere thoughts to a person. He shed his evil shell and tried his best to make himself like an ordinary mortal.
Therefore, among the devils, Belphegor is the one who is least interested in disputes.
Borlog asked, "What happened to corrupt all of this."
"It's nothing. It seems more like an inevitable necessity of the times," Belfinger said. "With the development of technology, new things bring simple and straightforward sensory stimulation. There are so many of them, they are countless."
"In the old times, some people could never see a few books or read a few stories in their lifetime. For this reason, they were so precious and worthy of poets to sing about them. But in the new era, things are different. Things that were once cherished are everywhere.
Yes, it's at your fingertips.
Sometimes you may listen to more songs in a week than your parents listened to in a lifetime, let alone tell stories... These precious things have become cheaper. Compared with reading those ancient poems, new things will undoubtedly bring
To get a stronger pleasure.”
Belphegor slowly clenched his fists, "The arrival of a new era has made one of my brothers and sisters aware of an opportunity. She took this opportunity to corrupt the Unbound Poetry Society. Everyone no longer loves those eternal and distant pursuits, and even more
Focus on the pleasure of the moment."
Belphegor thought for a while and asked Bologo, "How do you mean... fast food culture? I remember it was said like this in the newspaper, right?"
"I guess so……"
"That's almost it. Under the influence of the other devil, the Unbound Poetry Society gradually split. Under the temptation of instant gratification, there were fewer and fewer poets, and they were almost destroyed. She destroyed what I loved and turned it away.
It became a Zongge band."
Belphegor glanced at Bologg, "That's the group that attacked you."
"But I still don't understand, what exactly did you promise the poets? Can you deceive them by just eternal life?"
From the film, Bologna can sense that what Belphegor said is true. He and the poet are equals, just like friends, moving forward for the same ideal.
This made Boluogo feel confused. It was hard to imagine that there was such a relationship between devils and humans. It was almost like a fairy tale.
"The Endless Poems."
Belphegor said softly, "This is what we call our ideal. It will be a collection of poems, an extremely heavy collection of poems, recording the 'poems' created by every 'poet' from ancient times to the present, no matter who they are."
Whether you have joined the Unbound Poetry Club.
It covers all types of art that humans can create, whether it is music or even some graphic designs, will be preserved in it."
Belphegor continued, "As for the eternal life I promised...Mr. Lazarus, do you think there is real eternal life in this world?"
Bologo said, "Are you kidding? You just mentioned the guy in the Immortal Club to me."
"But he also gained eternal life due to the power of the devil. What if the devil also dies one day? Then does his eternal life still exist?"
Belphegor's words were like a cold arrow piercing Bologna's heart. He stared at Belphegor with his eyes wide open. He was still wearing sunglasses on his face at this moment, and Bologna couldn't see his gaze.
"You mean... the devil can die too?"
"Let's just assume that if the devil dies, will the eternal life promised by the devil still exist?"
Belphegor looked unconcerned and continued to ask Bologger this question.
Boluogo took a deep breath, "No way..."
"Then let me ask you, what kind of form do you think is true eternal life?"
Belphegor then asked, "The immortality of the body? Or the eternity of the spirit?"
Bologna did not answer. He was still troubled by what Belphegor said. He felt that it was not a so-called hypothesis, but a real possibility.
The devil is also mortal.
Boluogo felt like a strong wind and huge waves were blowing against his face in this absurd cinema.
