At first, Bologue didn’t understand what the charm of Blue Jay’s new book was that made Palr so excited. It wasn’t until Bologue got up the next morning that he deeply realized what kind of influence Blue Jay had.
The headlines in all the newspapers on the street were news about Blue Jay’s new book, and the entrance to the bookstore was crowded with people. Everyone was asking about Blue Jay’s new book, paying to pre-order the book, which didn’t even have a title yet.
"Is Blue Jay really that famous?"
Bologue stood by the roadside, watching the crowd and sighing.
Palr said, "Of course, he’s considered a pioneer in the fantasy novel genre."
"Before Blue Jay, everyone wrote cold, hard reality. But Blue Jay’s stories are full of romantic fantasies, like his most famous work, Night Hunter.
His appearance made people realize that stories don’t just have to depict absolute reality; they can also imagine the ethereal unknown."
"Is that so..."
Bologue pondered for a mont and felt that all this made sense.
Hundreds of years ago, the world had no tall buildings but castles standing in the wilderness. There were no novels or movies, only the songs sung by travelers.
It’s only in recent years that these artistic thes have been unleashed so rapidly... thinking about it, movies have only been around for just a century.
Human history is like a rugged curve, and with the advent of modern civilization, the curve rose like waves, leaving the past behind.
Palr asked, "I really look forward to it. What kind of story do you think it will be?"
"Didn’t Dudel make it clear on the radio?" Bologue replied, "An autobiographical fantasy novel."
"Autobiography and fantasy?"
Palr spoke softly, and then he laughed, "It’s curious, Blue Jay’s works are well-known, but the man himself remains a complete mystery."
"As a highly praised author, when you think about it seriously, you’ll realize that people know nothing about everything about Blue Jay."
"Nothing at all?"
"Yes, to this day, people don’t know what Blue Jay’s real na is. It’s said that only the editors at the publisher know it, because only by knowing his real na can they deposit his manuscript fee into his account.
Aside from these, Blue Jay’s past, his experiences, everything about him is an unsolved mystery."
Palr chuckled again, "And there’s also his Daisy Castle. That’s Blue Jay’s residence, but he lives alone in that enormous ancient castle. He doesn’t allow anyone to approach him, reclusive and eccentric beyond asure."
I guess now Daisy Castle must be surrounded by a throng of people, with reporters everywhere trying to pry the new book’s news from his mouth, even going so far as to steal his manuscripts."
Bologue raised his hand, catching the drifting newspaper in the wind.
"He’s no longer at Daisy Castle," Bologue said as he handed the newspaper to Palr, "He knew the news of the new book would cause a stir, so Blue Jay has gone traveling."
"Traveling, huh..."
Palr tossed the newspaper back into the wind and brought up another mystery to Bologue.
"Do you know about the woman with the fire opal eyes?"
"Who is she?"
"A character frequently appearing in Blue Jay’s books, like a mascot. No matter the story, she always makes an appearance."
Listening to Palr, Bologue sketched a ghostly figure in his mind. She traverses various stories, unbound by plots, almost eternally present.
"And then?"
"There’s nothing more to it. Blue Jay is so secretive that he barely appears in public beyond his works," Palr said with eyes full of anticipation, "I ntion it because Blue Jay’s new book will explain everything about this woman."
Bologue shook his head, showing no interest in this. He didn’t know much about Blue Jay, and he hadn’t even finished reading the only work he knew, Night Hunter. He found Palr’s enthusiasm hard to comprehend.
As the two continued to move forward, that cold sensation of being watched suddenly rose in Bologue’s heart again. He quickly turned around, looking back at the bustling crowd, only for the eerie feeling to vanish.
"What’s wrong?"
"Nothing," Bologue shook his head, though his eyes still held caution, "Let’s go."
In the dense crowd, a man hid in the shadow of an alley, gasping for breath. Bologue’s alertness far exceeded his expectations. After the tension, he felt a thrill that ca with narrowly avoiding danger.
He let out a sinister laugh, murmuring repeatedly, "I saw him, I saw him."
The man seed to be speaking with another person, soone who’s everywhere, observing this conversation.
Soon, a deep sense of satisfaction rose from within. His eyes rolled white under the imnse pleasure; he knew he had successfully pleased that presence.
Beside the man was another small figure. He hadn’t seen Bologue and therefore couldn’t receive that presence’s reward.
An irrepressible fatigue tornted his mind as he enviously looked at the man in enjoynt, scratching at his own face repeatedly. Soon he thought of sothing.
Drawing out the short knife, as the man enjoyed the peak of pleasure, the cold tal slit his throat.
The man widened his eyes, staring at the slender figure, clutching his throat, eyes full of anger and fear. He then saw the slender figure’s gaze, one full of enjoynt.
To die at the mont of joy, what a drama that is.
The slender figure enjoyed his creation, feeling he presented a perfect picture for that presence.
As a result, that beautiful grace descended upon his heart, granting him a brief respite from pain and tornt.
Looking at the satisfied expression of the other, the man understood sothing. He lowered his head, blood splattered everywhere, pooling into a bloody mirror, reflecting his tragic side.
The man was about to die, would die in endless sorrow, and then he thought that presence would probably enjoy such a scene.
Yes, he would enjoy such a scene.
The man tore his throat open with his hand, a blurred and sinister voice erged from the wound.
"Did you see it?"
The man used his life to please that presence, and at the mont of death, he faintly heard the sound of applause. Then a large sense of satisfaction filled his mind, and he fell bit by bit, dying with indescribable joy and satisfaction.
The small slender figure also imrsed in satisfaction, but seeing the man dying in such fulfillnt stirred envy and anger within him.
This man is always like this, adept at pleasing that presence, even in death.
But it’s okay, he’s already dead, but I’m still alive.
He scratched his ears and cheek as he thought, how should he continue pleasing that presence? Should he keep tracking Bologue? Yes, as long as he sees Bologue, that presence will descend with grace.
Thinking thus, as he was about to exit the alley, so fragnts fell from above, hitting him, he looked up, a pitch-black figure stood at the edge of a tall building.
"I saw him."
He said joyfully, heedless of the crisis he was in, the next mont the shadow leaped down, a sharp folding knife flicked out, extending.
At the mont Bologue intersected with this short man, a narrow line of blood spread, expanding, collapsing.
The folding knife easily severed the man’s arm. Before he could howl in pain, Bologue reversed the folding knife, pressed the blade’s back against his throat, stifling his scream.
"Who are you?"
Bologue questioned, anwhile a breeze swept through, a layer of twisted barrier enveloped the area, blocking out all sounds.
Palr stood at the alley’s entrance, with eyes emitting a faint light.
After ascending as a Prayer Believer, Palr’s Secret Energy·Wind Source was elevated, advancing further along the Path of Wind Fury.
The enhanced Secret Energy enabled Palr to further master the airflow, and now he can easily command a vacuum area within the affected range, even construct a vacuum barrier to cut off all sound wave transmission.
Bologue looked confusedly at the man smiling foolishly before him, he couldn’t figure out why the man wanted to peep at him, nor why the man wanted to kill another man.
Everything that had just happened did not escape Bologue’s gaze, he stood at the edge of the rooftop, watching the two mutually slaughter each other.
Honestly, that scene made Bologue’s heart shiver slightly, without any warning, the two seed to kill each other and commit suicide as if for amusent...
Looking at the man before him, Bologue noticed his oddity, the man’s eyes were incomparably dark, with a layer of gloss on the dark surface, as if...
Like a cara lens.
Bologue felt puzzled by this strange analogy, then the man beca agitated, excitedly looking at Bologue, struggled fiercely even being cut by the folding knife incessantly.
"Close-up!"
He stretched his neck, straining to look at Bologue, in his dying struggle, he actually twisted free of Bologue’s restraints, the bleeding severed arm pressed against Bologue’s chest, face-to-face with Bologue, eyes colliding with eyes.
"I saw you."
A deep hoarse voice sounded, for a brief mont, Bologue had a strange illusion, as if it wasn’t the man in front speaking to him, but another chaotic, blurred presence conversing with him using his body.
Under the dark lens, Bologue seed able to see that figure, he sat in the audience seat, holding popcorn, laughing at him heartily.
Suddenly blood welled up on Bologue’s face, not Bologue’s blood, but the man’s blood before him. He seed squashed by so force, body began twisting, deforming, but he did not feel pain, instead erupted into ecstatic laughter.
"He watched !"
In the midst of the mad murmurs, the man’s body twisted, collapsed, turning into a pile of blood sludge.
Leaving just Bologue standing there dazed, he wiped his face, looking at the blood-covered hands, with cold expression words barely bridged with laughter, "Now I can’t go out like this."
Palr nodded in agreent, he didn’t understand what had occurred, but Bologue at this mont indeed shouldn’t just appear on the street.
Now Bologue looked like he just walked out of a slaughterhouse.
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