absurd deduction game.

Mrs. Furnel frowned slightly.

She gazed at the portrait in front of her, seemingly more sensitive to some subtle changes within it, which only added to her confusion.

In high society, it is risky to rashly judge a painting as inferior—even if the painting is truly mediocre, once someone of higher status endorses it, the critic will be labeled as having "low taste."

Everyone knew the truth, but they all tacitly followed this unwritten rule. That's why Madame Funer moved her lips, but then swallowed her words back down her throat.

She gently covered her lips with her hand, leaving only a bright disappointment in her beautiful eyes... Although it had only just begun, the quality of the new works exhibited at this art exhibition had not met her expectations.

Only when she was sure no one else was around did she quietly complain to Yu Xing, "This painting has no spirit at all. Is Evan's condition unstable lately? Or have I lost the ability to appreciate beauty?"

“The feeling of art is different for each person, and it may also be related to the viewer’s state of mind.” Yu Xing gave an ambiguous explanation and then naturally changed the subject again, “Madam, look at that lake view painting, the use of color is very bold.”

He led the slightly disinterested Mrs. Furnel to a painting entitled "The Sleeping Lake Under the Moonlight".

The deep blue lake surface was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting a pale crescent moon. The lakeside was lined with twisted trees that resembled sleeping shadows. The overall atmosphere was tranquil and eerie, yet it possessed a strange allure.

“The style of this painting is very special,” Mrs. Furnell commented. “It’s a little unsettling to look at, but you can’t help but want to keep looking. Hmm, I really like this kind of mysterious theme.”

Yu Xing sensed that the core of the pollution in this painting lay in "degradation" and "loss".

Beneath that calm surface of the lake lies a power that can drag one's consciousness into a cold, void abyss. It tempts those seeking thrills or those experiencing spiritual emptiness to plunge into that false tranquility, only to vanish in silence.

The branches struck for the third time, disappearing into the "Sleeping Lake".

The smooth, mirror-like lake surface suddenly boiled and twisted, as if stirred by an invisible giant hand, forming a huge whirlpool.

The pale moon reflected in the water was torn apart, stretched, and merged into the vortex.

The twisted trees by the lake seemed to come alive, emitting a silent wail, their branches and leaves dancing wildly. The power of "decline" contained in the whole scene was violently extracted and pulled, and finally completely absorbed and devoured by the tentacles.

The painting immediately lost its captivating and eerie charm, leaving only a deliberately created gloomy tone and a somewhat rigid composition.

A woman in a gothic-style long dress and with bold makeup walked by. I don't know if she was a relative of one of the invitees, but she didn't seem to care much about decorum. She glanced up at me and let out a sneer: "Cheap..."

No one refuted her. Madame Furnel pursed her lips, finally letting out a sigh before leaving the painting.

Yu Xing, like a discerning and efficient diner, followed Madam Funer, seemingly casually appreciating the paintings, but in reality conducting a silent hunt.

Wherever he went, paintings that originally exuded either alluring or eerie charm quickly became "mediocre," as if their souls had been ripped out.

This change wasn't immediately obvious, but as more and more paintings became "ineffective," some observant guests began to feel puzzled and whispered among themselves:

"Don't you think that some of Mr. Clifford's paintings don't seem so... amazing?"

"Yes, at first glance, that painting, 'Sunset Glow,' seemed very vibrant, almost like it was alive. But upon closer inspection, it felt quite ordinary."

“A rising young painter, ah, I said long ago that he was being praised too much and had reached a height that did not belong to him.”

"Perhaps he's lost his inspiration. Living in a luxurious mansion all day, how can he still paint those inspired paintings from before? Pfft, after tonight, no one will probably praise him so much anymore."

"A boring art exhibition... Oh well, the snacks were pretty good."

These discussions naturally reached the ears of painter Irwin Clifford, who was talking with several distinguished guests.

His face gradually turned ugly, and the gloom in his eyes was almost overflowing.

He could clearly feel that the close spiritual connection between himself and those paintings was being forcibly severed and devoured by a domineering and strange force!
For a fleeting moment, his gaze was like a poisoned dagger, suddenly shooting towards the elegant black figure who had always been by Mrs. Funer's side in the exhibition hall.

Yes, it's him... the investigator from the East... it's him again.

Evan's fingers curled up unconsciously, digging nervously into his skin.

A surge of emotion welled up within him, a mixture of anger, vigilance, and a hint of... indescribable excitement.

This investigator not only resisted the contamination of his paintings, but also managed to "devour" them? How did he do that?

This is no longer an obstacle to be cleared; it is simply...unprecedented and excellent experimental material! Perhaps, it is even more "collectible" than those vulgar dignitaries he originally planned to have.

Yu Xing seemed to sense the malicious gaze. He had just finished admiring a colorful still life painting and tasting the snacks depicted in the painting when he slowly turned his head and met Evan's sticky gaze.

Yu Xing's face remained expressionless; she merely tilted her head slightly, her eyes calm and unwavering, as if asking, "Is there something you need?"

This silent provocation stirred something within Evan.

He forced down his surging emotions, squeezed out a stiff smile, said "Excuse me" to the guests around him, and strode towards Yu Xing and Mrs. Funer.

Evan Clifford walked through the bustling crowd with seemingly unhurried steps, but his eyes held a deep, icy melancholy.

His facial expressions were perfectly controlled; the shock, anger, and unease caused by the severed mental connections were perfectly concealed beneath the sensitive, slightly neurotic shell characteristic of an artist.

He walked straight toward where Yu Xing and Mrs. Funer were. The murmurs of the surrounding guests seemed to subside automatically as he approached, and many people watched the scene with amusement or curiosity.

“Mrs. Furnell…Mr. Yu Xing.” Evan stopped in front of the two, his voice still carrying that unique magnetism, only a few decibels lower than when he was on the podium. “I hope you two enjoy tonight’s exhibition.” His gaze fell on Yu Xing, as if examining an antique that had just been unearthed, covered in dirt but whose extraordinary nature could not be concealed: “Mr. Yu Xing seems to have quite a few insights into my paintings? I noticed that you lingered in front of some works for an unusually long time.”

Mrs. Fernail keenly sensed the subtle change in the atmosphere. She smiled and said, "Evan, your paintings always provoke deep thought. Mr. Yu Xing was invited by me. This is his first time appreciating your work, so naturally he needs time to savor it."

“Of course, true art is worth savoring repeatedly.” Evan followed Mrs. Funer’s words, but his gaze remained fixed on Yu Xing’s face, as if trying to uncover something beneath his calm expression. “I’m just curious, Mr. Yu Xing, as… well, a knowledgeable investigator, your perspective on art must be different from that of ordinary people. I wonder what your opinion is on my humble works?”

He emphasized the word "investigator" almost imperceptibly, both to clarify Yu Xing's identity and to test the other party's reaction.

The guests who had been listening intently immediately showed expressions of understanding or even greater curiosity. Those who hadn't paid attention to Yu Xing before now realized his identity—it turned out that this extraordinary gentleman was an investigator from Ideal Country, no wonder he seemed unusual.

Yu Xing met his gaze, a very faint, almost polite smile curving her lips: "Mr. Clifford, you flatter me. Investigators are only human; they too are awestruck and bewildered by true art."

"Oh? Confused?" A glint flashed in Evan's eyes, like a hunter who had been waiting for a long time finally seeing his prey step into the edge of the trap. "I wonder what aspect is puzzling Mr. Yu Xing? Is it the technique, the composition, or... the 'inner' that the painting tries to convey, that transcends the visual?"

His words carried a double meaning, hinting at the extraordinary power contained within the painting, and beginning to test Yu Xing's stance.

As the esotericists say, the investigators are not all aligned with the Church of the True God; they have their own ideas and considerations and participate in various factions.

The person in front of me already knows the strangeness in the painting, yet he hasn't used his identity as an investigator to expose it. Instead, he's secretly devouring the monster. What is he planning to do? And how should I use him?
Yu Xing seemed oblivious to the underlying meaning, casually glancing at the paintings on the wall that had just lost their "soul," and said calmly, "Perhaps it's a sense of the loss of some kind of 'vitality'? I've noticed that some paintings are extremely impactful at first glance, as if they possess their own breath and heartbeat, but after gazing at them for a while, that vibrant feeling recedes like the tide, leaving only a delicate shell. This puzzles me; is it a characteristic of art itself, or is my perception flawed?"

His words were like a precise scalpel, directly striking at Evan's most sensitive and unspeakable secret!
Some of the guests around also showed thoughtful expressions, clearly indicating that some had vaguely sensed this change, but they couldn't articulate it as clearly as Yu Xing.

Evan's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly, but his face instead revealed a feigned expression of excitement, as if he had found a kindred spirit: "Incredible! Mr. Yu Xing, you truly possess extraordinary insight!"

He leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and created an atmosphere of sharing a secret: "What you feel is perhaps exactly what I'm pursuing—the tension between 'the eternity of a fleeting moment' and 'the fleeting moment of eternity.' Art captures moments of inspiration and emotion, and that ultimate vibrancy cannot last long. When the viewer tries to grasp it, it has already begun to vanish... Isn't this regret and pursuit part of the charm of art?"

He cleverly attributed the "failure" of his paintings to discussions on the philosophical level of art, portraying himself as a profound artist who deliberately pursued this effect.

Yu Xing chuckled inwardly, but on the surface, he appropriately showed a look of "learned understanding": "I see. Mr. Clifford's understanding of art is indeed unique. This deliberately created sense of 'passing time' is truly thought-provoking."

He glosses over the words "deliberately created," and although his words clearly express agreement, they inexplicably evoke a sense of mockery.

Evan was ridiculed.

The other party clearly saw through his trick, but used the language of "art," which he was most proficient in, to put him in a difficult position. He could not deny it, otherwise he would be slapping himself in the face; nor could he delve into it, as that would be nonsense.

However, they still didn't expose it on the spot.

Damn investigator.

He took a deep breath, deciding to stop beating around the bush and probe more directly. His tone carried a hint of provocation, yet it was also a kind of invitation: "It seems that Mr. Yu Xing is not only good at investigating the strange, but also has such a keen sense of beauty. I wonder if you believe that some beauty originates from the 'abnormal' that ordinary people cannot understand?"

“Your usual work probably means you don’t have much contact with art-related fields and lack exposure to it. Perhaps when you have time, you can come to my gallery more often. The doors here will always be open for you.”

After confirming that Evan had come to see Yu Xing, Mrs. Funnel stood quietly to the side and watched their conversation.

His gaze turned slightly cold, and a hint of displeasure appeared at the corner of his mouth.

She interrupted the painter, repeating what she had said earlier: "I invited Mr. Yu Xing. Are you saying that he doesn't like your paintings because he lacks appreciation skills?"

Evan then snapped out of his extreme focus on Yu Xing, and was slightly startled to realize that he had done something inappropriate for his status.

Fernail's words reminded him of this.

The beautiful woman lowered her eyebrows and her tone became somewhat intimidating: "As expected of a newly arrived genius painter in the circle, he certainly thinks highly of himself."

"I hope that when others in the industry feel the same way about what you said, you can give the same response."

Evan's face stiffened, and he put on an apologetic expression: "I didn't mean that, beautiful lady. It's just that I tend to forget etiquette whenever we talk about painting. It's my fault."

Yu Xing laughed: "Art is a very subjective thing, so there's no need to mind this little episode. Anyway, I don't care. I don't really understand painting, but I believe that there will definitely be people who like your work and will willingly immerse themselves in it and feel the emotions in your paintings."

"But now, please let Mrs. Fernail appreciate the painting in peace; talking will distract her."

Fernail chuckled, offering no rebuttal to this tactful attempt to drive her away.

Evan gave Yu Xing a deep look, knowing that he would not gain the upper hand with words. The other party was like a perfectly smooth pebble, watertight, and with an incredibly hard core.

"I've learned a lot." Evan finally uttered three words slowly, his face once again displaying a formulaic smile. "I hope the works to be exhibited next will bring everyone a more 'beautiful' experience that meets their expectations. I'll take my leave now."

After speaking, he nodded slightly to Madam Funel and Yu Xing, turned and left. His back was still upright, but the gloom seemed to have deepened.

Although the surrounding guests did not fully understand the witty and subtle conversation between the two, they knew that the painter had been disliked by Mrs. Furnell, whose status in the town was certainly much higher than that of the former.

Some people secretly shook their heads, thinking that the painter was ultimately young and impetuous, knowing nothing, and actually arguing with the wealthy Fernandez for those vague and unfounded praises.

Mrs. Fernail glanced at Evan's retreating figure, gently brushing aside the stray hairs on the side of her face with her fingers.

"What a disappointment."

She looked at Yu Xing again, a smile returning to her face: "Never mind, I didn't come here for his painting anyway. I want to discuss some business now, so please protect me, okay?" (End of Chapter)