Ah, Art!

"Praise Rielsa!" "Praise the God of the Wall!" The prospective father-in-law and son-in-law sat facing each other. "*Sigh.*" Mr. Bede let out a sigh, his posture relaxing into something more natural than before. Karen did the same, leaning back slightly. Eunice arrived carrying a tray with two rolled hot towels. Using a pair of tongs, she handed one roll to her father and the other to Karen. Both men unfurled the hot towels with their fingers, waved them gently a couple of times, and draped them over the backs of their hands. Afterward, Mr. Bede used his towel to dry his hair, while Karen pressed his towel over his face. "Eunice, your grandfather and second uncle will be back soon. Prepare some towels for them as well." "Yes, Father." Once Eunice left, Mr. Bede hung the used towel over the easel, stood up, and said, "Young Master Karen, I believe we could talk in the study." "All right." Karen also tossed his towel toward the easel, but it failed to catch. The towel slid down, smudging a section in the middle. By chance, it divided the crowd gathered beneath the eaves in the painting from the distant performance hall. Visually, it looked like two "worlds" coexisting within a single canvas. Standing behind Karen, Bede remarked in admiration, "Now that is artistic inspiration." Karen smiled. "It was just an accident." Bede shook his head. "Much of an artist's inspiration actually stems from accidents. It's just that they're too embarrassed to admit it—or if they did, no one would believe them." Karen nodded. "I believe an artist's words." The two went up to the third floor and entered the study. "Would you like to sit there, or should I?" Karen pointed to the chair behind the desk. "Of course you should sit there, Young Master." Mr. Bede gave a slight bow and took the initiative to sit in front of the desk. Karen did not refuse and sat down behind the desk. "So, is this why you were never able to awaken your bloodline, Mr. Bede?" Bede nodded. "Most likely, yes." Faith was inherently exclusive. One could not claim to believe in him while simultaneously believing in her. That was a hobby, not faith. Once Mr. Bede chose to believe in the Church of the Mural God, he naturally could no longer stimulate his family bloodline, nor could he walk the path of the family faith system. After all, even though the Church of the Mural God had always remained small in scale and influence, and even though during the last era the Mural God Rielsa had been branded an evil god and suppressed by the God of Order Himself, no one could erase the fact that the Church of the Mural God was indeed a "church." "You really surprised me," Karen remarked. "You hid it remarkably well." Even Purr hadn't noticed. Of course, even if Purr had found out, she probably wouldn't have been furious over a family descendant believing in an unorthodox cult. More likely, she would have been pleasantly surprised that an odd melon had sprouted among a patch of squat wax gourds. After all, unlike the remnants of the Church of Light, who were currently hunted down by tacit agreement among the major orthodox churches, the only ones truly sensitive to the Church of the Mural God were the Church of Order. The Mural God Rielsa had been suppressed personally by the God of Order, making the two churches natural mortal enemies. Yet because the Church of the Mural God had been a small fish relative to the Church of Order even at its peak, even the Church of Order lacked much enthusiasm to "eradicate every last weed" when it came to its remnants. Therefore, so long as Mr. Bede didn't run around publicly proclaiming his faith, practically no one would go out of their way to cause trouble for him personally. Oh— There was, however, a problem for the family. Karen remembered that the Allen family's black coral powder workshop supplied the Church of Order in York City exclusively. If this ever came to light, it would ruin the Allen family's business. "When did you first come into contact with the Church of the Mural God?" Karen asked. "When I was very young... practically a child, I was already deeply interested in painting," Mr. Bede replied. Karen nodded. He knew this was a conversational preamble. Most people used such openings to buy themselves time to formulate their upcoming lies. "In truth, my family bloodline talent might really have been quite poor. My eldest and second brothers awakened when they were very young, whereas I was much slower than them. Even so, I was already beginning to feel a faint spark back then. "But as you likely understand, Young Master Karen, children are naturally competitive, even with their own siblings—especially in a family like ours. "So, although I could faintly sense the ancestor's bloodline stirring within me, I also understood that my talent lagged far behind my two older brothers. Consequently, I wasn't very keen on pursuing that path. "Later, I found records regarding the Church of the Mural God in the family archive. I felt that this was what I truly wanted to pursue. "At the very beginning, it really was just a hobby. "I began seeking out mural artisans and conversing with wandering painters, trying my best to integrate into their circles. "Eventually, I managed to find a believer of the Church of the Mural God. He led me into the 'halls' of the church, where I encountered its doctrines and, in an illustration, saw the likeness of the True God Rielsa. "I was awed by the teachings, and I became entranced by Rielsa. "In the end, with him as my guide, I willingly embraced the Church of the Mural God. "Had I not believed in the Church of the Mural God, perhaps in another two or three years, or four or five years—once I reached adulthood—I would have reached Rank One in bloodline awakening. "Then again, perhaps the ancestor sensed that my faith lacked purity, which was why he didn't choose me from the start." At this point, Mr. Bede raised his head and looked at the portrait of Ancestor Allen hanging on the wall behind the desk. "A bit ironic," Karen said, lightly tapping the desktop with a fountain pen. "After all, you used to be the one sitting in this seat." The family patriarch sitting beneath the portrait of his ancestor turned out to believe in an outside faith. Yet Karen immediately added: "However, if this scene were painted—even rendered purely realistically without the slightest alteration—it would feel quite beautiful." Hearing this, Bede closed his eyes and took a deep breath, an expression of profound savoring crossing his face. True artists were lonely. For them, the greatest joy was encountering someone who shared their aesthetic sense, sparking a resonance that proved they were not truly alone on a road draped in night. "Young Master Karen, on countless occasions I wanted to take up my brush and capture that scene. You are absolutely right—it truly is magnificent. "To an outsider, it would seem nothing more than a simple painting depicting a patriarch conducting business. "Yet anyone who knew the truth would perceive the beauty of that silent irony. "It was only out of respect for the ancestor that I held back the urge to paint it." "Then there's something I'm very curious about." Karen looked at Mr. Bede. "Please don't take offense at my being so direct." "Please, ask away." "Can you fight?" "I am sorry to say that my talent lies in painting, not fighting." "Anything else?" Karen asked. "I'd like to be more specific." "If you had not arrived, our family would still be facing continued pressure from the Raphael family right now. That has very little to do with whether I hid my faith. "You must realize that had I revealed my faith, the family's situation would have only grown worse. "That is also why my father and I share the same view: your arrival has brought hope to the Allen family. "Furthermore, "after seeing that pool of holy water in the performance hall, we can dare to hope for even more." A smile appeared on Karen's face. "Do you not believe what I'm saying?" Mr. Bede asked. Karen lied smoothly. "No, I believe what you say." Mr. Bede nodded. "Indeed, who could bear to stand by idly while their own family falls into peril, caring only about hiding themselves? After all, my surname is Allen too." "Of course. And you are still the patriarch." Yet what surfaced in Karen's mind was Linda's letter to him, along with the disheveled, wild-haired Piaget. For religious devotion, Linda had abandoned her husband twice. So— never expect normal human decency from these religious artist fanatics! "Young Master Karen, how did you come to know of the Church of the Mural God? What I mean is, very few people nowadays know of it. Or rather, how did you know about me? "It couldn't possibly be because of that painting I hadn't had time to put away, could it?" Karen pointed to his forehead. "Because I completed my purification." Hearing this explanation, Bede looked astonished. "You truly figured it out from that painting of mine?" Since he knew Karen had only just finished purification, that painting was the sole clue Karen could have had. "Yes." "Truly... marvelous." Bede took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "The shock you have brought me is truly beyond measure. As expected of Lord Diss's grandson." "Besides, I know of the Church of the Mural God because I have a good friend in Rojia City whose wife is also a follower of the church. Her name is Linda." "Linda?" "You know her?" "Yes, I know her. Years ago, when I visited your grandfather in Rojia City, I met two women during that stay. One was my current wife, Jenny, and the other... oh, well, back then Linda couldn't be called a woman yet. She was just a little girl holding her mother's hand." "So, were you the one who initiated Linda?" Karen asked. "No, that wasn't me. I met Linda at a secret gathering of the Church of the Mural God held in Rojia City. Her parents brought her along; her entire family were believers of the church. "A piece of artwork she made back then left a deep impression on me, so I took the initiative to speak with her. She was a lovely girl, and it was evident that she possessed a natural dedication to and appreciation for art and murals." "And afterward? Did you stay in touch?" "I saw her once a few years ago, though not in Ruilan, but in Wien. After becoming patriarch, I stopped attending Church of the Mural God gatherings out of fear that exposing my identity would drag down the family. "However, I still attended art exhibitions, and during one of them, I ran into Linda again. "I didn't recognize her at all at the time. After all, little girls change enormously once they grow up. But men..." Mr. Bede touched his cheek. "A man's appearance doesn't change all that much over a certain period." Karen nodded, signaling for him to continue. "Linda recognized me, and we had coffee together. She told me she had come to Wien to study at an art academy. We merely caught up briefly, deliberately avoiding any talk about the church. "My position forbade it on my end, while on hers, she was dating a psychology major and their relationship was going wonderfully. She had just accepted his marriage proposal and was preparing to take a leave of absence so they could return to Ruilan together. "After wishing each other well in our future lives, we finished the last sips of our coffee." "Then would you like to know how she is doing now?" "To be honest, not particularly." Mr. Bede shook his head. "Our connection drifted apart long ago. But she must be living happily. Her boyfriend—or rather, her husband—must love her very much, right?" "Yes, her husband loves her deeply." "Good, that's good then." Mr. Bede nodded. "She deserves happiness." Just then, a knock sounded at the study door. "That must be for me," Bede said, pointing to himself. "Father must want to store that pool of holy water as soon as possible. Once again, thank you for your gift." "It was only right." Bede didn't ask about dividing the proceeds or the value of that pool of holy water. It wasn't that the Allen family lacked greed, but rather that the true master of the Allen family right now was Karen himself. Strictly speaking, Karen possessed the authority to dispose of all Allen family assets, so bringing up specific allocations would only seem distant and awkward. Karen pressed the bell on the desk. The study door opened, revealing Boge standing in the doorway. "Mr. Bede, the master is calling for you." "Understood. Tell Father I'll be right there." "Yes, sir." Bede stood up and gave a slight bow to Karen. "I am truly grateful for your arrival; you have brought hope to the Allen family. "After all, though artists often live destitute lives, artists generally dislike being destitute. "Your arrival finally allows me to set down my burdens and lose myself in the halls of art. "Naturally, should you ever have need of me, I remain at your service at all times, my esteemed Young Master Karen." Bede turned and walked out of the study. From beginning to end, he never once asked Karen to keep his secret, because he understood that just like the matter of allocating the holy water, it went without saying. Karen remained in his chair, twirling the fountain pen between his fingers. He didn't believe a word Mr. Bede had said, just as Piaget had once naively believed Linda would never leave him. Furthermore, the Inmerlais family rule was: never let a doubt survive the night! Yet this was the Allen household. Karen closed his eyes and sank into contemplation and memory: — *"I told him the method Hoffen helped me refine for the Church of Order's beyond-specification god descent ritual, and I even helped him make the preparations. He is going to fulfill his lifelong wish of summoning a true evil god, but he is destined to fail. *"Because his strength and realm are insufficient, he is doomed to turn to ash during the summoning ritual. Most importantly, he lacks sufficient offerings to sacrifice." *"Then why would he..." *"Because of a dream. He knows full well he cannot truly summon the ancestor, but he hopes to meet with the ancestor and exchange a few words before perishing alongside the altar. *"... *"By the way, Grandpa, I know who the aberrant demon you mentioned would clean up after us is." *"Oh." — *Click.* The spinning pen slipped from his fingers and dropped onto the desk. Karen slowly opened his eyes. Muttering to himself, he said: "So, was the real reason he had his wife and daughter go to Rojia City in his place truly just so he could attend an art exhibition?" * * * "Bede, see to these arrangements. Handle it properly and meticulously—you know how much this pool of holy water is worth!" "Yes, Father, I understand. I will instruct the staff immediately." "Good." "However, it's raining today. I think it would be better to begin pumping and storing the water tomorrow. If rainwater gets mixed in, it might degrade the holy water's quality." "Yes, quite right, a sensible consideration. Tomorrow it is, then. Mike, take some men to secure the performance hall." "Yes, Father." After finishing his conversation with his father and brother, Bede headed straight toward the castle basement. Watching his retreating figure, Old Anderson remarked with a touch of helplessness, "He's heading to his studio again." Mike offered comfort: "It is his passion, after all." "At least Young Master Karen is here now." Old Anderson lightly tapped his forehead. "I'm not as angry about it anymore. Forget it, let him be." * * * Mr. Bede stepped into the basement. Beneath the castle lay three underground chambers. One was a storage vault, one was an old defensive fortification, and the last was Mr. Bede's studio. *Snap!* Flicking on the light, Mr. Bede walked inside, surrounded by numerous canvases draped in white cloth. He continued forward, ignoring all the other works, and walked straight to the wall at the deepest part of the studio. A large expanse of white cloth hung over that wall as well. Mr. Bede closed his eyes, his fingers gently swaying. Then, with a smile on his face, he walked over to the small wine cabinet in the studio and poured himself a glass of red wine. He took a generous gulp, set down the glass, and picked up a violin resting nearby. After tuning it, he let the freshly downed wine cultivate the right mood. In the next instant, a melodious tune resonated through the basement. Mr. Bede paced back and forth as he played the violin. This was a private performance solely his own; he was both performer and audience. The music shifted from its initial melody into something cheerful, then climbed from cheerful to soaring, until at last, that soaring melody transformed into a passionate fervor capable of kindling the fire in one's soul! *Snap!* As the final note fell, Mr. Bede bowed toward the wall in a curtain call. As he rose, he reached out and yanked down the white cloth hanging from the wall. The cloth fell away, revealing an enormous mural painted upon the stone. In the painting, a man stood on the rooftop of a tall building holding a box, looking upward with a smile at a woman in the sky. The woman was weeping, reaching her hand out toward the heavens. The sky was blanketed in dark storm clouds, yet deep within those clouds loomed the silhouette of a giantess. In the bottom corner of the canvas was a sacrificial altar. Mr. Bede lifted his half-empty wine glass, sipping the wine as he admired the mural. This was Linda's artwork. Mr. Bede suddenly chuckled. "Yet how could the painter appear in her own painting?"