The Cycle of Fate

Chapter 93: The Painting

Lumian was still amazed by the high cost of those art supplies when he returned to the Golden Rooster Inn.

Charlie, who worked as a waiter at the Gentle Breeze Dance Hall, already had a relatively good salary compared to others in the same line of work. Yet, he would need to save two months' worth of wages, without eating or drinking, just to afford a single roll of canvas!

In Lumian's impression, many painters lived in poverty. He hadn't expected that they could still afford expenses like canvas, paintbrushes, paints, easels, and even human models.

Maybe it's precisely these costs that leave them destitute, with some having to rely on family support just to survive?

Closing the door, Lumian placed the pile of items he carried on the wooden table.

In the end, he gave up on buying a canvas and instead chose the cheapest brushes, paints, and paper. After all, he wasn't really aiming to become a painter or participate in exhibitions. He only needed a medium on which to channel the supernatural powers gained through the "Secret-Peering Glasses." As for whether it was fragile, whether the paint was of good quality, or whether the painting was well-done, none of that mattered.

Even so, I still spent 30 Fels.

He mixed several colors of paint on a palette, laid out the flexible white paper, and sanctified the ritualistic silver dagger, creating a "wall of spirituality" within room 207.

He was about to test what he could paint and what effects it might have.

Given the reaction of the Lady Magician's messenger to the Golden Rooster Inn, Lumian believed there weren't any major anomalies here—just a lot of bugs. The root of the Susanna Mattis problem was likely somewhere in the Old Pigeon Cage Theater or an underground hollow.

Taking a slow breath, Lumian took out the amber-tinted glasses and placed them on his nose.

In an instant, a dizzying sensation overtook him, and he felt as if his entire body had flipped upside down, plummeting toward the depths of the earth. During this fall, Lumian saw the inverted inn, observed the tenants moving in similar positions within the rooms and the underground bar, and watched as rocks, soil, and tree roots extended endlessly downward into the ground.

He kept falling deeper, nausea from weightlessness growing worse.

In the next moment, he saw enormous brown and green roots stretching in all directions, connecting to the distant void.

"Ugh..."

Lumian began to dry heave, feeling his undigested dinner rising in his throat. He quickly removed the "Secret-Peering Glasses," suppressing his urge to vomit, while the desire to paint still burned within him. He grabbed a paintbrush, dipped it in paint, and began sketching on the white paper.

Gradually, he became more focused, and his spirituality seemed to extend to the tip of the brush.

After a few minutes, Lumian stopped and scrutinized his creation.

"What the hell did I just paint?"

That was his first thought.

Upon closer inspection, he barely managed to recognize what he had drawn: a grey-blue triangular house perched atop a green tree, with what seemed like splatters of mud representing rain.

After a few seconds of staring, Lumian suddenly felt an itch on the back of his hand and couldn't help but scratch it.

As he scratched, he immediately noticed that his skin had become red and swollen. Soon, his whole body began to itch.