He Became A Monstrous Genius After Obtaining A Time Dilation Artifact Chapter 410 .Aurelius Zeynar versus Borga Cruz

The mont Ross Kadn said this, several expressions of anticipation swept throughout the room.

"Look, that’s living scene painter Borga Cruz. He’s one of the top Living Scene painters within and outside the empire."

"He’s approaching Aurelius Zeynar."

"Aurelius Zeynar is one of the top-ranked living scene painters within the empire."

"This is gonna be a show to watch."

"Quick, quick, start streaming this."

"I place bets on Aurelius Zeynar."

"I place bets on Borga Cruz."

As Borga Cruz and Aurelius Zeynar agreed to the painting duel with one another and headed toward the painting canvases and pencils, everyone watched them with extre anticipation.

"The results of who has won the duel will be determined by a painting-appraisal artifact," Ross Kadn comnted.

Everyone watched in anticipation as the strokes fell on the canvases.

Each one painted with natural ease, each stroke a plethora of life.

Aurelius Zeynar’s painting bled into a towering mountain, with clouds looming across its expanse.

The chirping of birds whistled to life through the painting.

The trees surrounding the mountain whispered cool breezes—so realistic that for a second everyone thought that a breeze had spread throughout the room.

The clouds looming on top of the mountain spread faintly across it as rays of sunlight radiating warmth spilled across the mountain.

Peace... extre peace filled the room.

Everyone staring at the scene was utterly srized.

A Third Realm painting did not only contain a living scene or an imitation of reality; it also incorporated the beauty and elegance of an Imitation Realm painting, and the emotional exposition of an Emotional Realm painting.

After all, for soone who had reached the Living Scene Realm, they had first learnt to practice, imitate, and convey what they saw in reality onto a canvas, then channel their emotion into it—after which they could form a connection to the Dao to generate the natural phenonon of a living scene.

So this was the prowess of a Third Realm painter—a living scene painter.

"What sort of peace is this?"

"I’ve never felt so peaceful in my life."

"Is this what it feels like not being agitated and angry about everything like I always am?"

"Seriously, I’m gonna beco an ascetic awakener from now on and only pursue the way of peace."

"Look, that fellow is having an enlightennt!"

"So the rumours are true."

"What rumours?"

"The paintings of Aurelius Zeynar project a sensation of either peace, warmth, or comfort—so much so that so individuals can enter into a state of extre focus that can trigger enlightennts in their cultivation."

Several Awakeners whistled amongst themselves, completely imrsed in the influence the painting had had on them.

They discussed Aurelius Zeynar’s painting with reverence.

Kailen observed everything with shock and a contemplative expression. "So paintings can have this sort of effect on people, depending on the emotion projected, huh. His projection of warmth and peace has led others into a state of sublimation that has triggered all sorts of enlightennt. Interesting."

When everyone looked at the painting—Kailen included—the emotion that clouded their hearts was extre warmth, serenity, and comfort.

It was as if they had been sublid into so sort of heavenly abode.

Aurelius Zeynar sat by his painting, extrely satisfied with the outco of things.

This mountain he had painted carried a weight of extrely peaceful mories he would never forget.

But the crowd didn’t need to know.

The emotion of the painting, and the life in the painting’s influence on them, was what mattered.

Then, suddenly, a gasp spread throughout the room.

Everyone stared at the painting of the gno, Borga Cruz, with srized expressions.

Borga calmly stood up from the painting and stood to the side to give the individuals gathered in the room a better view.

Borga smiled with satisfaction as he observed the painting he had brought to life—a painting carrying the weight of mories.

The woman in the picture was his adopted mother.

She held an undeniable place in his heart. And the child... well, he deed it himself.

But the crowd didn’t need to know this.

The emotion of the painting, and the life in its influence, was what mattered.

In the painting, a beautiful woman could be seen in a palace-like room, holding a very tiny baby in her arms with a tender feeling of warmth on her face.

She swayed the baby gently in her arms from ti to ti, her expression so pleasant that hearts lted in the room.

Her lips parted as she seed to be whistling a sweet lullaby to the baby.

Although no one could hear the song or lullaby she was singing to the baby nestled warmly in her arms, they could feel it.

Motherly love.

Warmth.

True love.

"I’m gonna call my mum and tell her I love her after this gathering."

"Mum, I love you so much."

"Thank you for everything, Mum."

"Rest in peace, Mum. You’ll always be in my heart."

Everyone at the gathering was extrely emotional at this point.

Even Kailen was almost tearing up, rembering his mum.

Esimo was clutching his mum in a deep hug.

Phoebie, Arrie, Felicia, Randell, and others were seen doing the sa.

As for those who didn’t have their mothers around, they spoke good things about them.

If their mothers were alive, they made vows to show them appreciation when they left this gathering.

After a mont of silently adoring the paintings of the two painters, a hush settled in the hall.

It was finally ti to determine the winner of the painting duel.

No one was certain anymore who would win.

Aurelius had projected a ssage of extre peace with his painting—one that had deepened the focus of several individuals toward almost achieving all sorts of enlightennt.

Borga Cruz had reminded them of sothing each one of them had perhaps taken for granted—the love of a mother.

So of them had been so imrsed in the emotion that they were already planning to rebuild bridges they had burnt with their mothers because of ego and pride.

The crowd held its collective breath.

The appraisal artifact hovered above the paintings, its light flickering and spinning, as if contemplating the outco itself.

Every eye in the hall followed its movents.

Who would erge victorious?

Would it be Aurelius Zeynar, whose brush brought peace and subli focus to all who gazed upon it?

Or Borga Cruz, whose strokes reminded the heart of love long cherished and perhaps forgotten?

The answer was uncertain, and for now, suspense hung heavier than any brushstroke, filling the hall with tension that was almost tangible.