AnalogHorror: Rule Kaidan 4016
Chapter 469 - 208 "The Second Kind of Light" _2

Chapter 469: Chapter 208 "The Second Kind of Light" _2

"In the art of disguise, it has been mentioned that ancient people used makeup and props to alter their appearance, achieving an effect of mixing the false with the true... Mine is similar, you could simply consider it as, I laid a piece of cloth over this dead end, and we’re hidden underneath it."

"Oh... that’s kind of hard to understand." Mao Feiyang honestly shrugged his shoulders, "Isn’t it Brother Xian, wait... do we art students really attend classes?"

"What else?"

Mao Feiyang said guiltily, "I always thought that the seven-day experience was it..."

"That’s why they call you an experience student, and you’re called an art student... If you want to leave after experiencing seven days, you need to first become an experience student."

"It’s not about a verbal change, but a fundamental change in ’status’."

"Remember my ’signpost’ thing, to leave this path and become an experience student, but not to discourage you, from the current situation, it looks like you’re likely to have no choice but to stick with the art student path."

"Don’t be anxious, because as it stands now, besides the path of an art student, you really have no chance of taking any other route."

"Don’t think too much, just focus on getting through the immediate difficulties, being alive is the only opportunity to think of solutions, and we won’t force anyone to stay... Art, is something that fully exemplifies freedom."

A gust of wind blew by, and Mao Feiyang felt a chill, as his muscles began to tremble uncontrollably; he shivered a few times and quickly went to the easel to prepare to start.

"Don’t doubt yourself, remember the feeling you had when painting on top of the Watchtower, art comes from deep within your heart, the brush is just a tool for expression, the paints are just for assistance, don’t be obsessed with the limitations, paint with your heart." Mu Daxian might not do anything, but he still had to provide ample experience.

Mao Feiyang immediately held his breath, his expression solemn and earnest, his eyes slightly vacant as if his thoughts had traveled beyond the skies in search of that unique inspiration.

Mu Daxian pretended to rest, but was actually observing Mao Feiyang the whole time, seeing him in such a meditative state, he felt satisfaction in his heart, thinking to himself that this student showed promise.

But what he didn’t know was that the promising Mao Feiyang wasn’t blankly staring, but was literally zoning out.

When he listened to Mu Daxian’s instructions, Mao Feiyang felt confident as if he knew what he was doing, but only when he was about to start painting he realized he had no idea where to begin.

Like someone who felt like they could write a hit novel after reading five volumes of a mediocre series, before lifting the pen feeling on par with the best, only after starting to find out that what he produced was a real mess.

Who am I?

Where am I?

What am I supposed to do?

Mao Feiyang’s mind spun with these philosophical questions as he stared at the brush, gathering energy, focusing... and then the energy dissipated.

Damn, this is hard!

A cool breeze blew through, and Mao Feiyang felt exceptionally cold, his muscles starting to shiver uncontrollably.

"Dammit, it’s difficult but I’ve got to get started!"

He clenched his teeth, relying on his understanding of a campfire, he tried to paint a cluster of flames on the easel... Although he still didn’t understand how Mu Daxian managed to rewrite space and alter reality, at least he was given two "magical treasures."

If you have a knife sharp enough to slice through iron, if not for slaying enemies, it must be good enough for cutting meat, right?!

With this thought, Mao Feiyang suddenly felt inspired and rushed to start painting.

Half a minute later, a perspiring Mao Feiyang looked helplessly towards Mu Daxian, "Do you have an eraser..."

Mu Daxian: "..."

"Your paint can be erased with an eraser?"

Mao Feiyang: "..."

As expected, Mu Daxian said no more, he just looked at Mao Feiyang, "It seems you’re not there yet, when you feel you can hardly hold on, that longing for warmth will lead you to paint the light of fire."

After saying that, he closed his eyes, like an old monk detaching himself from everything.

Mao Feiyang took a deep breath, looked at the easel, then at the dead end, and then he began to feel that sensation, as if his clothes were soaked by the rain and then blown cold by the wind, and he gradually entered the zone...

It’s too cold... too cold...

He began to understand the state of that little girl, selling not nuclear bombs, but matches, begging for food and flames in the icy snow...

When the little match girl lit her matches, she used the brief warmth to numb herself, while imagining all things warm and beautiful – a forced rewrite of cognition, except she lacked supernatural power and her spirit wasn’t strong enough, ultimately failing to survive the freezing night.

Mao Feiyang gradually went from understanding the little girl to becoming the little girl...

That’s right, his hand holding the paintbrush slowly dropped, and his body temperature began to drop rapidly...

Lin Yi watched with growing anxiety, at one moment even wishing the Teaching Building would simply catch fire...

He fantasized about the Teaching Building ablaze, with flames spreading from the elevator shafts, sweeping through the bathrooms, and then burning all the way up to the ground, reaching the dead end.

The roaring fire illuminated Mao Feiyang, and the searing sensation quickly evaporated the moisture on his clothes...

But all this was only a fantasy, and Lin Yi couldn’t change reality from his dreamscape.

"Am I being too impatient..." It was at this moment that Lin Yi thought he heard Mu Daxian muttering to himself, "Is it too much to ask him to take such a big step now?"

With a heavy sigh, Mu Daxian rose and slowly walked towards Mao Feiyang.

However, just then, as if revived from petrifaction, Mao Feiyang rigidly lifted his arm holding the paintbrush and began to furiously smear the canvas.

Mu Daxian was startled but quickly noticed that the temperature around them rose as if they were sitting in front of a warm stove, and the dimly lit dead end seemed somewhat brighter now...

Mu Daxian’s eyes gradually widened in disbelief as he watched Mao Feiyang, his face flooding with joy, "He did it!"

He hastily went to Mao Feiyang’s side, but when he saw the painting on the easel, he was thunderstruck!

"This...?!"

Mu Daxian took a deep breath and then stood silently beside Mao Feiyang without speaking.

What was seen was that Mao Feiyang’s brush danced with fluid grace, yet it hadn’t touched the canvas at all...

Even so, as Mao Feiyang "painted," the temperature in the dead end genuinely rose, and even the walls sported dim orange-yellow patches of light...

"Is this the ’Second Kind of Light’?" Mu Daxian squinted his eyes, silent for a long time.

Gradually, the dead end filled with warmth...

Suddenly, a clap of thunder sounded, startling Mao Feiyang, causing his hand to tremble and his paintbrush to drop.

Mu Daxian bent over in silence to pick up the paintbrush, only to find that Mao Feiyang had come back to his senses and was looking bewilderedly at the warm walls surrounding them.

"Wuwuwu—Brother Xian, Brother Xian!!!" Mao Feiyang embraced Mu Daxian, his eyes brimming with tears, "I knew you would take action! Wuwuwu—"

Mu Daxian froze, looking at the paintbrush he had picked up, then at the original mess on the canvas; he suddenly realized Mao Feiyang thought everything was his doing.

"Alright, alright, no need to be so moved, you did this yourself!" Mu Daxian patted Mao Feiyang’s back, first calming his emotions before speaking slowly.

"Me?" Mao Feiyang pointed to his nose.

"Yes, if I say I’m too weak to paint, then I am indeed too weak to paint," Mu Daxian affirmed.

Taking credit for what one hadn’t done wasn’t necessary; letting Mao Feiyang see his own masterpiece would boost his artistic confidence, a principle that Mu Daxian always understood.

Mao Feiyang was still trying to process it all, but looking at the messy oil stains on the easel, he suddenly became confused—hey, if it was my painting, where did it go?

This easel... hasn’t changed!

Just as Mao Feiyang was beginning to doubt anew, the once warm dead end suddenly flickered with light and shadow, and a chill seemed to seep from the walls, sending shivers down one’s spine.