Global Fog Survival - Chapter 71: The Source of the Ominous Aura

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.

Some exist with pride, others struggle with pride, some compete with pride, and there are those who fail with pride, but very few can walk away with pride.Congratulations, for as you read these lines, you have witnessed the whole lives of many great basketball players.This pronunciation was embodied when Stephen Curry, after facing defeat in 2021, claimed that no one would want to face them the following season; When Tim Duncan was convinced before the start of the 2014 Finals that they would not mess up; When Kobe Bryant promised at Old Buss's memorial to take the Lakers to the playoffs; When Nowitzki, shedding his label as a soft player, retreated to the locker room in tears at night; When Kevin Garnett let out a skyward howl after holding the championship trophy; When the 2004 Detroit Pistons won and the F4 Lakers lost…Our story begins in an era when pride still mattered.

Mum ran away, dad’s crippled, and I’m about to be sold to a brothel.

Qiao Xiaomai rolled up her sleeves in anger: If you’ve taken from me, regurgitate it.

If you’ve seized what’s mine, return it.

All scumbags, clear off.

A certain man finished tidying up the mess, rolled up his sleeves and pulled Qiao Xiaomai into a light laugh: “My lady, if you’re this fiery and domineering at night, your husband…”

Qiao Xiaomai raised an eyebrow, patted the spot next to her: “My dear, come warm the bed~”

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The uncanny Dao of heaven, the abnormal immortal and buddha, is it true? Is it false? Lost in confusion, Li Huowang can not distinguish.

However, it wasn’t just these that he cannot distinguish, but also himself. He’s sick. He’s very sick.

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