With the full level of enlightenment, you can rub the fruit of transcendence with your hands!

Chapter 602 Sequence Nine: Painter
"Why don't you put pen to paper? Isn't this what you love most?" Lilia walked forward, put a rose in the corner of the drawing board, and looked at the blank paper.

"Sometimes I really doubt whether you love me more or you love painting more. I really get jealous."

Lilia said coquettishly, stretching out her finger and tapping Hagen's forehead. Hagen tilted his head back slightly and held his wife's finger. "It has always been you, and it has never changed. From the first time I saw you, painting and art can only take a back seat to you."

"Then what are you afraid of, and what are you avoiding?" Lilia wanted to pull back her fingers, but she couldn't. She could only let him hold them and asked in confusion.

Hagen stared at his beloved one. He had never told anyone about this. When he picked up the pen and those memories came to his mind, endless pain began to descend upon his consciousness, transcending everything.

He could see countless blurry figures breaking down his door and smashing everything familiar, while his strong wife bravely stood in front of those people in order to protect her own flesh and blood.

At the same time, he also saw how his wife was defeated while holding hostages, and how she was willing to cooperate with the enemies and forcibly tore herself apart until she took her last breath.

Hagen never told anyone that before he became a painter, he was a medical student and had sufficient professional knowledge on how to identify wounds and diagnose trauma. It was precisely because of this that his familiarity with muscle lines and the human body made his portraits so lifelike and full of unique soul.

When he stepped into the room, with his unique vision as a medical student, he could already tell which wounds on the body parts on the ground were caused by the enemy and which were caused by himself, because the corpses could speak, and the direction of the force, the tearing texture of the wounds, and the abnormalities on the corpses were all telling Hagen a fact: his wife died of suicide, whether it was forced suicide or the most cruel torture.

When Hagen put his wife's body back together with his professionalism, everything he saw became his inner demon, lingering in his mind and he could never break free.

And every time he picked up the pen, he would think of those memories, and as the number of times increased, the images gradually became clearer and more complete. He could see everyone's movements, silent lip movements, fierce confrontations and the mess on the ground.

He felt the same pain, his consciousness was in sync with his beloved, they shared the same feelings, and their hearts were connected. He could feel the smoothness of the blade passing through flesh and blood, the resistance of touching bones, and at the same time he could feel the pain, worry, and anxiety that penetrated deep into his bones.

Hagen saw that his wife's eyes subconsciously shifted away again. When he followed her gaze, Hagen fell silent. There was only a clock there, and the time where the pointer was marked was gradually approaching the time when he returned home every time. Then, the blade that was chopping towards him became sharper and faster, until it took away the last bit of his life.

Hagen had no idea whether all this was an illusion brought on by his own mental trauma and guilt, or synaesthesia caused by a mysterious connection. However, every time he recalled it, he sunk into despair, and he could no longer distinguish between reality and fantasy.

"Does it hurt?"

Hagen's hand slid down to his wife's arm, his eyes lingering there. There should have been a scar big enough to penetrate her, but now, the smooth skin was full of vitality.

"It doesn't hurt. You know, the transformation on my body makes me almost immune to low-level pain." Lilia said softly, looking at the man with pity.

"But I seem to feel it, and it really hurts," said Hagen.

"No, it doesn't hurt. At least you and Windsor survived, so I don't feel any pain. You know, I won't lie to you." Lilia looked into the depths of the room, where her daughter was sleeping.

"is it?"

Hagen's voice became softer and softer, almost inaudible, like a subconscious dream. Lilia suddenly held Hagen's head and looked at him angrily: "How long do you want to indulge yourself? Look at you now, are you still my beloved? You are a man and a father. You can't go on like this."

Hagen looked at Lilia in fascination: "What is all this, is it my hallucination?"

Lilia's eyes became gentle: "Is it an illusion or reality? Didn't you know it a long time ago? My lovely little man."

Hagen suddenly became sober. Yes, in order to keep his fingers stable, he had never taken any addictive hallucinogenic drugs. Even if it was a magic drug that inspired inspiration in the art circle, he never touched it.

And everything now seemed like an old dream, so real that he subconsciously sank into it, fearing that he would shatter this illusory reflection, break the outer shell of the dream, and see the fragmented reality.

He finally asked the question: "Are you my illusion? Will you still stay with me?"

Lilia smiled and said, "Whether it is an illusion or reality, it depends on you. Don't worry, I will always be with you. Whether you can see me or not, you have to believe that I am always here."

Suddenly, her face was close to Hagen's face, and their foreheads were touching, giving Hagen a real touch. Then, there was a deep, long, and passionate kiss that was enough to make people sink.

When Hagen woke up and looked around, the cold moonlight was projected onto the drawing board. There was no rose in the corner, nor that beautiful figure beside her. There were only dim outlines of objects in the room. In the distance was the endless darkness of the night and a bright moon outside the window.

He touched his lips, as if the ecstatic touch still remained. Hagen no longer hesitated, dipped the brush into paint, and left a colorful stroke on the blank paper.

As a painter, he has his own unique model. He clearly knows every texture of her skin and is familiar with the touch of every inch of her. With just a few strokes, the general outline is already on the paper.

As he continued to move, his overly devoted spirit and rich emotions were imprinted on the paper of the painting. The active spirituality gathered and ascended to the spiritual world through the painting, attracting the attention of the indescribable things in the spiritual world.

The inexplicable knowledge gradually unveiled the mysterious veil, his spirituality rose, pried open the spiritual world, and gave him endless gifts.

The faint moonlight covered him with a gauze, the brush condensed tiny points of light, and the person in the painting was extremely lively. However, Hagen was just indulging in the emotional outpouring and was unaware of the strange phenomenon of his body. He was stepping into the extraordinary.

Without limits and foundations, the spirituality was simply attracted by Hagen's powerlessness and emotions, giving him the power to resist and granting him the magic to turn everything around.

Sequence Nine: Painter, Extraordinary Sequence: Fantasy Comes True!

Where there is a rise there is repression, where there is exploitation there is resistance. Before the extraordinary arrives, giant companies crush everything, and all living beings are sinking in desire, powerless to resist. When the extraordinary arrives, the world will be overturned and everyone will be treated equally. Therefore, all living beings have the right to resist and the power to fight.

At the same time, there are also miracles that turn the situation around.

(End of this chapter)