My Notoriety Spreads Throughout the World-Chapter 274 - 251: World-Class Urban Legend — The Artist Descends [Double-Length]
"What a captivating, emotionally rich melody! The Proclamation Orchestra—I will remember their name. After this performance, I plan to invest in them, allowing them to perform on an even grander stage." A businessman in the audience was tearful, wiping the corners of his moist eyes.
"Indeed, every time I immerse myself in such a melody, I feel my soul searing, life ascending to an extreme elevation, my entire being rising to a higher realm." Another actor echoed.
"Perhaps, this is the true essence we seek in art, to achieve enlightenment in art, to reflect upon oneself, to love wisdom." Someone's tone was elevated, as if they were a poet.
The performance was only halfway through, yet the applause from the audience was already thunderous. The members of the Proclamation Orchestra on stage intensified their efforts, their bodies forming exaggerated arcs, every inch of their skin exerting force, their faces vividly displaying their fiery emotions.
Everyone in the audience was applauding, unaware that a woman in a tuxedo was furrowing her eyebrows to such an extent they could reach the sky—what were these mediocre, incapable people even clapping for?
Jenny was furious. She saw it clearly. Over half of the hundred-member orchestra was just there to make up numbers. That guy, the third from the left on the back row, had no understanding of the trombone, pretending without the courage to even produce a sound. The violinist, third from the right on the front row, had strings so worn that there wasn't even a trace of blood on his fingers, as pristine as a young master who had never experienced physical labor.
And the conductor at the front of the stage—several times the orchestra had dissonant sounds, and he made no corrections, not even showing any abnormality on his face. That damn bastard's mind had long drifted off elsewhere. None of the trombone, saxophone, tuba, or drum players were decent—all these misshapen freaks could somehow ascend such a refined and sacred stage, and these damn fools were actually applauding?
What were they applauding for? How could they possibly applaud?
A surge of indescribable anger surged through Jenny's heart. She wanted to grab the fraudsters in the orchestra and gut them, showing everyone the consequence of desecrating art. Yet everyone on stage was desecrating the sacred art in her heart, and the fat, ear-nosed bastards down below were why these makeshift figures could ascend such a refined and sacred stage.
They were allowing art to be desecrated.
Jenny stood up, her burning anger consuming all her reason. She wanted to slaughter all five thousand people in this Opera House right now, using the most cruel, the most artistic, the most aesthetically pleasing methods!
Everyone must pay for their transgressions against art!
Everyone must pay with their flesh and blood for their arrogance toward art!
Everyone must atone for their acts of desecrating art!
Everyone will be nailed to the gallows of judgment, their souls never to transcend!!
An unprecedented aura descended from the sky, immediately crushing three thousand people in the Opera House into blood mist and exploding into flying beads of flesh and pulp. Jenny's tuxedo expanded infinitely, swirling in the blood and whirlwind, half of her face covered by a pitch-black silent mask. An invisible giant hand danced behind her, exploding all arrogant desecrators of art into blood mist with their screams.
Jenny sat on the phantom of a piano, losing herself in the melody, performing in Purgatory. The band's members screamed loudly, their bodies torn into countless musical notes before their throats could utter the notes. Flowing through the pure white score composed of countless spirits, flesh, and soul fragments, the music was intoxicating, bringing madness to the spirit, tremors to the mind, tearing to the body, resonating with the soul.
Jenny began to stand before the phantom of a canvas, losing herself in creation. Painting in Purgatory, the remaining people had their hands and feet severed by invisible blades before their blood could flow. Their bodies merged into the ground and ceiling, transforming into red pigments to converge upon Jenny, leaving a striking, vibrant brushstroke on the white paper formed by countless pale remains. The imagery was luxurious and lively, causing sight to decay, blood to form in the seven orifices, the body to become diseased, and existence to be erased.
Jenny didn't sing; these scumbags weren't worthy for her to use a recitative to conclude this grand tragedy.
When she stopped creating, there was destruction everywhere. Amid the ruins, the Opera House was devoid of red flesh; white bones stacked high like a mountain. The pale light directly illuminated her upright body, with only the endless flying gray threads left surrounding her.
"The world will remember art."
She whispered to the multitude.
"If it cannot be remembered, I will leave an unhealable wound on the world."
On New Era Calendar, December 22, 532.
World-level horror—The Artist Descends!
...
"Historically, the World-Ending Level horror Eight-Spider Nest Mother has undergone three revivals, first appearing in Chichu Calendar year 1382. This first appearance severely damaged Chichu Heaven's economy, marking the beginning of its transformation towards military industry, and equally becoming the turning point for Chichu Heaven to evolve into a major military hub and the industrial backbone of Cosmic Heavy Industries..."
Outside the window, the leaves yellow on the western hills, just as a year of leaves falls in autumn, wind pursuing the fields, people longing for freedom.
On stage, a middle-aged teacher pushed his glasses and lectured tirelessly, while the students below were already dozing off, those resting their heads on the desks stayed so, those daydreaming continued to do so. The girls applied their eyebrow makeup in mirrors, discussing idol dramas; poorly dressed youth swung wide, watching "Red Chestnut Avenger" with their devices unhidden.
The middle-aged teacher's forehead tensed with blue veins.
Below, a girl with dark red hair slept soundly. Over a week had passed since the incident where Chichu Tianyi was abducted. What frustrated Chichu Chun was that, without her involvement, the actions of her companions had gone smoothly on several occasions.
It proved that she herself wasn't nearly as important as the funds she brought. Just the thought of her little money vault being mercilessly exploited by others while she could only watch helplessly. The Young Master was seething with anger, grinding her teeth even in her sleep.
A paper ball soon hit her head: "Rice Wine, school is over, wake up."
The girl immediately reacted, stood up, kicked back the chair, pulled her backpack over her shoulder, and quickly grabbed her baseball cap from the drawer, completing a set of movements fluidly. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺
"I'm here, You."
She hadn't forgotten—you had promised to meet with her this afternoon, to join Dark Night Walker. Just thinking about meeting this mysterious netizen made her so excited she couldn't sleep last night.
Seeing everyone looking at her blankly, the girl retracted her smile, realizing something was amiss, her face full of dark lines, and glared viciously at the group of girls laughing quietly at the side.
Peals of laughter exploded in the classroom.
"Haha, Kuri definitely hasn't woken up from her dream yet, what You, that cracked me up."
"Mori Natsuki, do you have any dissatisfaction with the teacher's lecture, being in such a hurry to leave?" The middle-aged teacher crushed a chalk head.
"I, ah, well, actually," Chichu Chun's mind couldn't catch up briefly, thinking for a while before coming up with a reason.
"I wanted to go to the bathroom. As for any dissatisfaction with you, the teacher, such a thing absolutely does not exist. Ah-Hu-Hu, I actually particularly admire you, teacher, for being learned and knowledgeable, teaching humorously and engagingly..."
"Go stand outside!" The middle-aged man roared. "After school club time, complete cleaning the classroom before leaving."
Chichu Chun clicked her tongue, made a throat-cutting gesture and glared at the girls who mocked her, slung her backpack, and left the classroom with a sullen face.
The middle-aged teacher Hajime felt smug, finally managing to vent some anger. If he had known the environment in Dragonfly Town was this bad, he wouldn't have ever come from Chichu City to a rural place like this, where everywhere were these delinquent, misguided problem children.
Suddenly, a dull sound echoed, and someone in the classroom shouted, "She jumped down!"
The middle-aged teacher's eyes widened, quickly running out of the classroom to the corridor with open windows. Below, the dark red-haired girl held a bitter melon-flavored lollipop in her mouth, adjusted her jacket, turned back, and gave him a fresh smile and a peace sign.
Ignoring the crowd dumbfounded behind her, Chichu Chun pulled down her baseball cap, tossed the bag over the outside wall, gracefully leaping over the campus—the seconds before meeting You felt agonizingly long. She couldn't wait, no way would she waste time in this small broken place!
