噺 (8) 壹 Chinese net ωωω.χ8.òм 哽噺繓赽捌 (1) Novel 説蛧

Immersion is the only way to produce perfection.

Even the self-proclaimed "drama master" does not dare to guarantee that he will be able to devote himself to it every time he produces a work.

However, the problem is not in him, but because most of the people who are selected as the bearers of his works are unwilling to understand the greatness they will endure, and refuse to communicate and accommodate talented artists spiritually.

So, in order to get a truly perfect work, in addition to inspiration and talent, it takes a little luck.

Ember's luck wasn't bad, and he could feel that this was the closest he had come to surpassing the pinnacle of his skills.

The familiarity of copying, the blank space that left it unchecked, and the sense of urgency brought about by the time limit all made him inspired.

A raging fire ignited in his chest, and his mind even realized the rendering of Berya's consciousness after extreme concentration, and his eyes full of despair revealed a tragic brilliance.

The carving knife gently slashed through the elastic skin, although the speed was not fast, but it was not natural, and the tip of the knife was not pressed down and sunken, and the delicate muscle texture was dissected in front of him.

The wire slowly moved upward, and the target bound by it also swirled and climbed with it.

The work in Ember's hands was non-stop, and the restraint of the wire was extremely tacit, and blood poured out from the knife edges, and the target's whole body was covered in blood red like dye.

Soon, the tethered rope was at an end, and Berea, who was still alive, had faintly touched the roof of the church.

This means that the Angel of Flesh is about to die, and it also means that the work of Ember has come to an end.

However, at this moment, a sudden change occurred.

The earth wailed, and the church began to shake violently.

"Whew-"

Ember, who was too mentally involved to notice the change in time, was affected and subconsciously stabilized his body, but the carving knife that originally wanted to cut out the layers of feathers was deflected, and a narrow wound with deep bones was opened in the chest and abdomen of the work.

......

The wire had finished pulling, but Ember didn't let it release the Flesh Angel or put the finishing touches.

He stood quietly in the middle of the church, looking at the dangling works without saying a word.

The eyes under the mask had a reddish glow, and the characteristic enchanted carving knife was clattered by the white palm.

There will be no more perfection, this deviant knife ruined the conception and artistic conception of the entire work, and also made Ember empty for half a month's hard work.

Ember didn't think about correcting it, artists are nitpicking, whether it is repairing or continuing to create with flaws themselves, it is shameless vulgar for the "dramatist" who regards "beauty" as the highest pursuit.

Throwing the carving knife to the ground, Ember was full of anger and didn't know how to vent it.

Without the coercion of his fiery consciousness, Beria soon lost his life.

The artist still didn't pay attention to it, but just looked at the abdominal knife wound that grew bigger and bigger with the suspended body in the air, as if he saw Ingres, who was full of "stepping on the dragon Guan Gong" behind the back of "Valsson's bathing girl".

"Powerful!"

"Fear!"

"Abomination—"

A loud roar resounded in the sky of New York, and Ember, who had also heard it, turned his head in displeasure, and only glanced outside the church, not paying much attention to it.

He rarely squandered his inspiration when it came to gathering his talents, so he had no intention of going from creator to performer.

Moreover, he could sense that the obnoxious guy was confronting his boss and his companions and was about to go to war, and he hated the artless brutal stage, which made him feel like he was performing for a drunken Vi in a slumpy tavern full of oil and alcohol for money to make a living.

Just thinking about that image made him feel uncomfortable.

Looking at the table next to him, Ember walked over and picked up the Bible with dark blood spots on it.

It used to be a favorite of Berya, and more than once witnessed how people went from "one" to "lump".

Originally, Ember was intended to let Berya, who had become an "angel of flesh and blood", hold it and "fall from the sky" to complete the final artistic sublimation and beautiful composition, but now......

After thinking about it, the artist spread it out and placed it in the hands of Berya, who maintained the holding movement.

At this time, the hanging corpse has lost the unique freshness of life, the dried blood stains make his body look a little hard, and with the old Bible in his hand, even if the flesh wings that have been carved behind him have not yet been extended, the composition also has a different kind of beauty.

"It's not like nothing......"

With a slight wave of his hand, the wound that almost opened his abdomen disappeared without a trace, and Ember looked back and forth for a long time before turning to leave.

There were still some subtle portrayals that were not completed, but Ember felt that there was no need to continue.

This work has long lost its soul, and the finished work is nothing more than a work of craftsmanship, not art.

It might as well be placed here as a half-finished product, and then burned to ashes .......along with all the sins in a fire that poured out of the flesh slaughterhouse under the church.

After all, scorching heat is also a manifestation of salvation.

However, before he reached the door of the church, another shaking sensation struck, even more violent than just now.

Ember didn't pause, as if he hadn't noticed the sacrificers behind him who had lost their magical protection and were staggering in the middle of the earthquake, the shaking of the power level was not reflected in him in the slightest, and the artist was still the same calm and unhurried demeanor.

"Whoosh-pop-"

The work that was hanging in the air was thrown out, not because of the wire, but because of the broken structure of the church ceiling.

Ember stopped and watched as the half-finished "Angel of Flesh" slapped vertically against the wall next to the church door in front of him, and then fell a second time, descending on the mortal dust in a horizontal manner.

The meat wings that are bundled behind are spread out, not only does not have the slightest shocking beauty, but is like a quail falling into the water.

Buildings flew and walls began to crumble.

A piece of cracked wall stone smashed down on its body, squeezing out all the blood inside, staining the surrounding dust and soaking the Bible that had fallen aside to sublimate the beauty of art.

Ember looked at it calmly, looking at the work that was crushed under the stone like a dead bat.

What he called art and pursuit, seemed unworthy in the eyes of some tyrannical fools.

"Abomination—"

"Unique!"

A loud roar was heard, waking Ember from her distraction.

Looking around, there was a mess and blood all over the ground.

"The only life that does not know how to revere the noble is not worth mentioning in my eyes!"

With a laugh, Ember pulled out the "Whisper" and related accessories and began to load and assemble, and the magical textures on the walls of the gun became misty and shiny, merging with each other, becoming more complex and dense.

He didn't want to go to the stage to participate in those boring things, but he couldn't resist the fact that someone always jumped out and preached the "rude and brutal are everything" rhetoric.

So, it was necessary for him to make that fool understand: what is art and what is ...... Cruel.

Reaching out to stain the blood on the ground, Ember used it as paint to draw a strange symbol on the forehead of the mask.

Then, he discerned the direction, carried on his shoulder the "whisper" that had changed from a pistol style to a long-pole firearm, and hurried to the battle site without hurrying.

......

The curtain opens, and the artist and his beloved take the stage.

A costume, a few heavy makeup, full of blood.

Behind him, a scarlet mist surged and spread, and soon evolved into an illusory wave.

At the junction of water and sky, a blood moon is rising.

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