Chapter 93: Ah, Art!

Chapter 93: Art!

"Praise Ririersa!"

"Praise the God of Walls!"

The prospective father-in-law and son-in-law sat facing each other.

"Ah, me."

Mr. Bede sighed, his posture becoming a bit more natural than before.

Karen did the same, leaning back in his chair.

Eunice came over carrying a tray with two rolled hot towels upon it; using tongs, she handed one to her father and the other to Karen.

Both men unfurled the hot towels with their fingers, shook them gently back and forth a few times, and then draped them over the backs of their hands.

Afterward, Mr. Bede used his towel to wipe his hair, while Karen laid his across his face.

"Eunice, your grandfather and second uncle will be back soon; prepare towels for them as well."

"Yes, Father."

Once Eunice had left, Mr. Bede hung his used towel over the easel, stood up, and said:

"Master Karen, I think we might go to the study to talk."

"Mm."

Karen also tossed his towel toward the easel, but it failed to catch and slid down, smudging a section in the middle. By sheer chance, it perfectly partitioned the group of people under the eaves from the distant performance hall, making the visual composition look as though it contained two different "worlds" within the same frame.

Standing behind Karen, Bede remarked in admiration:

"Such is artistic inspiration."

Karen smiled. "It was merely an accident."

Bede shook his head. "The inspiration of many artists actually stems from accidents; it is just that they are too embarrassed to admit it, or perhaps, no one would believe them even if they did."

Karen nodded. "I believe the words of artists."

The two went up to the third floor and entered the study.

"Will you sit there, or shall I?" Karen pointed to the space behind the desk.

"Naturally, it is for you to sit, Master." Mr. Bede bowed slightly and took the initiative to sit in front of the desk.

Karen did not decline and seated himself behind it.

"So, is this the reason you were unable to awaken your lineage, Mr. Bede?"

Bede nodded. "It should be."

Faith was, by its nature, exclusive;

One could not claim to believe in Him while simultaneously believing in Her—that was called a hobby, not faith.

Once Mr. Bede chose to believe in the Church of the Wall God, he naturally could no longer stimulate his family lineage, nor could he walk the path of his family's system of faith.

After all, even though the scale and influence of the Church of the Wall God had always been minuscule, and the Wall God Ririersa had even been defined as a heretical god and suppressed by the God of Order in the previous era, no one could erase the fact that the Church of the Wall God was indeed a "Church."

"You surprise me," Karen said. "You hid it remarkably well."

Even Pu'er had failed to notice.

Of course, had Pu'er discovered it, the cat likely would not have been furious over a descendant believing in a heresy; instead, it would probably have felt a sense of pleasant surprise that a peculiar melon had grown from a patch of ordinary winter melons.

After all, unlike the remnants of the Church of the Light God, who were currently hunted down by the tacit consensus of the major churches, the only ones truly sensitive to the Church of the Wall God were those of the Church of Order.

Ririersa, the Wall God, had been personally suppressed by the God of Order, making the two churches natural, mortal enemies. Yet, because the Church of the Wall God was but a small fish compared to the Church of Order even at its peak, even the Church of Order lacked much enthusiasm to "root out the evil entirely" when it came to the remnants.

Therefore, as long as Mr. Bede did not go around shouting his faith from the rooftops, virtually no one would intentionally come looking to cause him personal trouble.

Oh,

But there was a family trouble here, for Karen recalled that the black coral powder workshop under the Allen family's name was an exclusive supplier to the York City Church of Order. Thus, once this matter was exposed, it would impact the Allen family's business.

"When did you first come into contact with the Church of the Wall God?" Karen inquired.

"When I was very young... one could even say when I was a mere child, I was deeply interested in painting," Mr. Bede said.

Karen nodded.

He understood that this was a introductory preamble; the purpose for most people choosing such an opening was to buy time to organize the subsequent lies in their minds.

"In truth, my lineage talent may really not have been high. My eldest and second brothers successfully awakened when they were very young. I was much slower than them, though I possessed a slight inkling of it back then.

But you should understand, Master Karen, children are competitive, even with their own brothers, especially in a family like ours.

So, although I could faintly perceive a bit of the ancestral bloodline within me, I also understood that my talent was far inferior to that of my two brothers. Consequently, I was not particularly keen on pursuing that path.

Then, I found records regarding the Church of the Wall God in the family library, and I felt that this was what I truly wanted to pursue.

At the very beginning, it really was just a hobby.

I began to seek out those fresco painters, and I would also converse with those wandering artists, trying my best to blend into their circles;

Later, I successfully found a believer of the Church of the Wall God, who led me into the 'sanctuary' of the church. There, I came into contact with the doctrines, and in an illustration, I beheld the image of the True God, Ririersa.

I was shaken by the doctrines, and I was captivated by Ririersa;

Ultimately, under his guidance, I willingly placed my faith in the Church of the Wall God.

Had I not believed in the Church of the Wall God, perhaps in another two or three years, or four or five years when I reached adulthood, I should have been able to attain the first rank of the bloodline.

However, perhaps the Ancestor also perceived that my faith was not pure enough, and thus chose not to select me from the very start."

At this point,

Mr. Bede raised his eyes and looked at the portrait of the Ancestor Allen hanging on the wall behind the desk.

"A bit ironic," Karen said as he tapped the desktop gently with a fountain pen. "After all, you used to be the one sitting in this position."

The patriarch sitting beneath the portrait of the Ancestor actually believed in an external church.

However, Karen immediately added:

"But this scene, if painted—even if painted in a realistic manner without the slightest modification—would feel quite beautiful."

Hearing these words, Bede closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and wore an expression of utmost enjoyment;

True artists were lonely. For them, the happiest thing was actually to encounter someone with the exact same aesthetic sense, sparking a resonance that proved they were not, in fact, alone on a road shrouded in night.

"Master Karen, I have wanted to take up my brush to paint this scene many times. You are quite right; it truly is beautiful.

Outsiders seeing this painting would only view it as a very simple depiction of the patriarch at work;

Yet those who know the inside story would, upon appreciating it, feel the beauty of that silent irony.

It is just that out of respect for the Ancestor, I still mastered the urge to paint it."

"So I am curious about one thing," Karen looked at Mr. Bede. "Please do not blame me for asking too bluntly."

"Please, ask."

"Can you fight?"

"I am sorry to inform you that my expertise lies in painting, and I am not particularly adept at fighting."

"Is there anything else?" Karen asked. "I would like you to be more specific."

"Without your arrival, the family would still be facing pressure from the Raphael family right now; it really has nothing to do with whether I conceal my faith or not.

You must know that if I were to reveal my faith, the family's situation would only grow worse.

Because of this, my father and I share the same view on this matter: your arrival has brought hope to the Allen family.

And,

after seeing that pool of holy water in the auditorium, we can even hope for more."

A faint smile flickered across Karen's face.

"You don't believe what I'm saying?" Mr. Bede asked.

Karen lied, "No, I believe you."

Mr. Bede nodded. "Indeed, who could watch their own family sink into a perilous state and remain indifferent, caring only about hiding themselves? After all, my name is Allen too."

"Of course, and you are still the patriarch."

Yet, what surfaced in Karen's mind was Linda's letter to him and the disheveled Piaget.

For the sake of religious belief, Linda could abandon her husband twice;

therefore,

one should never speak of human morality to this flock of religious artist lunatics!

"Master Karen, how did you find out about the Cult of the Wall? What I mean is, very few people know about the Cult of the Wall nowadays, or for that matter, how did you find out about me?

Surely it couldn't have been because of that painting I hadn't had time to put away yet?"

Karen pointed to his own forehead. "Because I completed the purification."

Hearing this explanation, a look of astonishment washed over Bede's face. "Did you truly discern it from that single painting of mine?"

Since he knew Karen had just finished the purification, the only clue Karen could have possibly obtained was that painting.

"Yes."

"How... miraculous." Bede took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "The shock you've brought me is truly unparalleled. You are indeed worthy of being Lord Dis's grandson."

"Furthermore, I know of the Cult of the Wall because I have a good friend in Luojia City whose wife is also a believer. Her name is Linda."

"Linda?"

"You know her?"

"Yes, I know her. Back then, when I went to Luojia City to visit your grandfather, I actually met two women during that time. One was my current wife, Jenny, and the other... oh no, Linda couldn't be called a woman back then; she was just a little girl, held by her mother's hand."

"So, were you Linda's guide into the faith?" Karen asked.

"No, that's not it. I met Linda at a secret gathering of the Cult of the Wall held in Luojia City. Her parents brought her along; her entire family were believers.

At the time, one of her works left a deep impression on me, so I took the initiative to converse with her. She was a very lovely girl, and it was clear she possessed a natural dedication to and appreciation for art and murals."

"And later on, did you stay in touch?"

"We met once a few years ago, though not in Ruilan, but in Wien. After I became the patriarch, I stopped participating in the gatherings of the Cult of the Wall, fearing that exposing my identity would drag down the family.

But I would still visit art exhibitions, and during one of them, I crossed paths with Linda again.

I didn't recognize her at all at first—after all, a little girl changes tremendously when she grows up—but men..."

Mr. Bede stroked his cheek.

"For a certain period of time, a man's appearance doesn't actually change that much."

Karen nodded, gesturing 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 reminisced about old times, both of us deliberately avoiding any talk regarding the church.

At the time, my position didn't permit it, while she had started dating a psychology student. They were deeply in love; she had just accepted his proposal and was preparing to suspend her studies so they could return to Ruilan together.

After wishing each other well for our respective futures, we both drained the last drops of coffee from our cups."

"Then, do you want to know how she is doing now?"

"To be honest, not particularly," Mr. Bede replied, shaking his head. "Because any connection between her and me grew distant long ago. But she must be living quite happily. Her boyfriend—or rather, her husband—must love her very much, right?"

"Yes, her husband loves her very much."

"Mm, that is good then." Mr. Bede nodded. "She deserves happiness."

Just then, a knock sounded from outside the study.

"That should be for me," Bede said, pointing to himself. "Father likely wants to store that pool of holy water as quickly as possible. I must thank you once again for your gift."

"It is only right that I do so."

Bede did not inquire about the distribution of profits or the value of this pool of holy water. It was not out of greed on the Allen family's part, but rather because the true patriarch of the family right now was Karen himself. In a strict sense, Karen possessed the authority to allocate all of the Allen family's assets, so asking about the specifics of the division would only breed an awkward estrangement.

Karen reached out and pressed the bell on the desk. The study door opened, revealing Borge standing at the threshold.

"Mr. Bede, the master is calling for you."

"Very well, I understand. Go tell him I will be there shortly."

"Yes, sir."

Bede rose to his feet and bowed slightly to Karen.

"I am truly deeply grateful for your arrival; you have brought hope to our Allen family.

After all, though artists generally live destitute lives, they generally do not enjoy being destitute.

Your arrival finally allows me to lay down this burden and immerse myself wholeheartedly in the palace of art.

Naturally, should you ever have need of me, I will be at your service at any moment, my respected Master Karen."

Bede turned and walked out of the study.

From beginning to end, he never requested that Karen keep his secret, for he knew that like the distribution of the holy water's profits, there was simply no need to mention it.

Karen sat in his chair, continuing to twirl the fountain pen in his hand.

He did not believe Mr. Bede's words, because Piaget too had once naively believed that Linda would never leave him.

Furthermore,

the maxim of the Inmoles family was: never let a doubt survive the night!

Yet here,

was the Allen home.

Karen closed his eyes, sliding into contemplation and memory.

—

"I told him the method Hoffen helped me perfect for the Church of Order's transcending divine descent ritual, and I even assisted him with the preparations. He is going to fulfill his long-cherished 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 into a pile of ash during the summoning ritual; most importantly, he lacks anything sufficient to offer as a sacrifice."

"Then why did he..."

"Because of a dream. He knows full well that he cannot truly summon the Progenitor, but he should be able to catch a glimpse of the Progenitor and exchange a few words before vanishing along with the altar itself."

…

“By the way, Grandfather, I know who that abnormal demon you mentioned, the one coming to help us clean up the aftermath, is.”

“Oh.”

——

With a soft click, the fountain pen that had been spinning in his hand dropped onto the desk.

Karen slowly opened his eyes,

muttering to himself:

“So, the reason he had his wife and daughter go to Roga City in his stead was truly so that he could go and see the art exhibition himself?”

………

“Bede, arrange these matters. It must be handled well and meticulously; you know the value of this pool of holy water!”

“Yes, Father, I understand. I will have the men get to work on it immediately.”

“Mm.”

“However, since it is raining today, I believe it would be better to have them start pumping and storing it tomorrow. Should rainwater mix in, it might diminish the quality of the holy water.”

“Yes, correct, you have considered it well. Tomorrow then. Mike, take some men and go secure the performance hall.”

“Yes, Father.”

After concluding the discussion with his father and brother, Bede walked straight toward the castle basement.

Watching his retreating figure,

Old Anderson said with a touch of helplessness, “He is off to his studio again.”

Mike offered words of comfort, “It is just my younger brother’s hobby.”

“Fortunately, Master Karen is around now.” Old Anderson gently tapped his own forehead, “I am not quite as angry anymore. Oh well, let him be.”

……

Mr. Bede stepped into the basement; there were three sub-levels beneath the castle.

One was a storeroom, another was an old fortification, and the last was Mr. Bede’s art studio.

With a sharp click,

the lights flicked on, and Mr. Bede walked inside, where numerous paintings stood covered beneath white shrouds.

He walked deeper in, ignoring all his other works, and strode directly to the wall at the innermost depths of the studio, where a vast white cloth hung.

Mr. Bede closed his eyes, his fingers dancing gently through the air, and then, with a smile upon his face, he walked over to the small wine cabinet in the studio to pour himself a glass of red wine, took a deep draft, and set the glass down;

he then picked up a small violin resting nearby, tuned it briefly, and allowed the warmth of the newly swallowed wine to brew his inspiration.

In the next moment,

melodious strains of violin music echoed through the basement;

Mr. Bede played as he paced back and forth, a performance belonging to him alone, where he was both the performer and the audience;

the music shifted from its initial serenity into a joyful cadence,

then from joy rose to a resounding crescendo,

and finally,

the crescendo transformed into a passionate fervor capable of igniting the fire within one’s soul!

With a sharp snap,

the final note fell,

and Mr. Bede bowed toward the wall before him as if taking a curtain call.

As he rose,

he reached out and pulled down the white cloth hanging upon the wall.

The white cloth tumbled down,

revealing a monumental mural painted directly onto the wall;

within the painting, a man stood upon the rooftop of a skyscraper, holding a box in his hands, looking up with a smile at a woman in the sky above;

and the woman was reaching her hand out toward the heavens even as tears streamed down her face;

the sky was filled with dark storm clouds, yet in the deepest recesses of those clouds, the silhouette of a colossal giantess loomed.

In the very bottom corner of the image, an altar was depicted.

Mr. Bede picked up the remaining half glass of red wine, sipping it as he admired the mural;

this was Linda’s creation;

Mr. Bede suddenly laughed:

“But how could the artist ever appear inside their own painting?”