"Stop doubting," Brother Xian hurriedly said, "this thing was reconstructed by you. If you start doubting it, it’ll weaken and then disappear."
Brother Xian patted Mao Feiyang on the shoulder, "First, let’s dry your clothes... You seem to have a lot of questions, and I can take the time to explain them to you."
"Hmm, okay," Mao Feiyang nodded seriously.
Brother Xian looked at Mao Feiyang and thought to himself that although Maozi behaved somewhat despicably, he truly possessed a spiritual essence, performing exceptionally in crucial moments as if possessed by a divine ancestor.
Mao Feiyang kept pacing in this dead-end alley, marveling at the walls that maintained brightness and warmth without any visible light source.
"Brother Xian, you must be the real art teacher..." Mao Feiyang mused, ultimately giving all credit to Brother Xian.
This ability to learn so quickly was truly not inferior to the master, Kaiduo’s, triple combo with one button.
Brother Xian shook his head slightly, "If you have fire in your heart, you can see the light."
Mao Feiyang couldn’t help but let out a breath, "Brother Xian, don’t tell me you’re into metaphysics? I’ve heard that whether it’s art or science, in the end, it all turns to metaphysics..."
Brother Xian gave him a look, "Painting is a bond that lets us immaturely utilize our own supernatural powers."
"It will magnify some deep desires within you, allowing you to guide and release them in your own way."
"This light and warmth, don’t you find it somewhat familiar?"
Mao Feiyang was momentarily taken aback, and after some pondering, his pupils gradually widened, "Brother Xian, are you saying... streetlights?!"
Now this dead-end alley was like a space illuminated by streetlights, where both light and heat felt exactly as if they were under a streetlight, the only odd and eerie difference being—there were no streetlights here!
There were originally no streetlights here, yet he himself was the streetlight.
Brother Xian said, "Painting is not creating something from nothing; we’re not magical pen Ma Liang... We’re merely movers of supernatural power, reconstructors of artistic symbols, that’s all."
"I understand every word you said, but when put together, why don’t I understand anything?" Mao Feiyang said blankly, "Anyway, now no matter what, I’m just playing the role of a streetlight, right?"
"I wouldn’t directly turn into a streetlight, would I?" Mao Feiyang suddenly panicked, remembering the lightbulb that Brother Xian had taken out of the streetlight cover which was still glowing. Could it be that streetlamp posts are directly made using Polluters?
He thought of the type of stake-driving described in the Luban Book and suddenly felt a shiver down his spine.
"What are you thinking? That won’t happen," Brother Xian was speechless; Maozi’s thoughts really did leap wildly.
"Okay then..." Mao Feiyang exhaled in relief.
A festive atmosphere began to emerge in the dead-end alley.
Soon, Brother Xian started undressing, first hanging his jacket and trousers on the easel to "warm them," leaving only underpants for modesty.
Mao Feiyang hurriedly did the same, as the place felt just like a warm stove; if he didn’t strip down and dry his clothes now, he would truly end up hot and cold, steamed like a crab.
After bustling around for a while and observing each other’s bodies, they suddenly sensed a peculiarly charming feeling, with some inappropriate background music seeming to swirl in their minds...
"Get out," Brother Xian was the first to speak up.
"I didn’t say anything!" Mao Feiyang exclaimed, his dark face filled with confusion.
Brother Xian said no more and just paced in the dead-end alley, then suddenly remembered something and took off his shoes and socks as well.
The relatively small space soon filled with a robust masculine scent...
Mao Feiyang couldn’t hold back any longer and took off his shoes and socks as well.
So-called two tigers cannot share one mountain; the potent masculine foot odor of the two instantly intertwined, transforming the dead-end alley into a gas trap...
The festive atmosphere abruptly shattered, turning into a stew of dung, and the feeling of the sauna, into entering a nuclear reactor...
Both Brother Xian and Mao Feiyang’s faces shifted subtly, but as if silently competing, they calmly breathed in, neither wanting to admit defeat.
Lin Yi was truly impressed as he watched, "What the hell, are they really competing over who can withstand the other’s foot odor?"
"Can they even be competitive about this?!"
He couldn’t help but facepalm, then pondered Mao Feiyang’s earlier actions, contemplative.
He hadn’t actually seen how Mao Feiyang did it, but he could vaguely sense some changes in Mao Feiyang, and at that moment, Mao Feiyang really seemed like a different person...
The only thing he could think of was that Maozi really was spurred by a critical moment, which stimulated the so-called "artistic cell" within him.
In the Art Student Rules it’s stated, "Every art classroom has a passageway leading to a watchtower; during art class, you can take your easel to paint outside, which can nourish your artistic cell."
An artistic cell is, in essence, the ability to control supernatural powers.
Even just touching the tip of the iceberg of supernatural powers is enough to surpass many others.
Lin Yi realized the Art Department was not as simple as it seemed.
Especially given the actions of Brother Xian and Mao Feiyang, it seemed that the role of the easel wasn’t just for painting, but to enhance the art students’ awareness of their ongoing "painting," and then by painting "en plein air," they could transcribe their reconstruction of a specific area onto the easel and, through some unknown method, channel their internal supernatural power into the area, completing a rewrite of reality.