Mu Yiran gently laid Ke Xun down in the center of the altar, kissed his forehead, and then casually tossed several IV bottles containing his own blood onto the altar.
The IV bottles shattered, and the blood within, as if possessed, rushed rapidly towards the last edge of the altar.
Mu Yiran estimated the time.
While his companions had sacrificed themselves, he had been concentrating intently, but he hadn't neglected to observe the movements of the demonic images within the tornado pillar.
He knew the approximate time it would take for them to cross the critical point, and he also knew how long it would take for the blood of the one who entered the painting to transform into part of the seal. He needed to ensure that his blood would be completely transformed at the very moment the demonic images crossed the critical point.
Mu Yiran lay down beside Ke Xun, and before pulling him into his arms, he slit his wrist with a knife.
The blood gushing from his wrist rushed eagerly towards the last edge of the altar, to merge with the blood that shared its lineage. Mu Yiran wasn't worried about the blood from the wound congealing; it surged outwards without hesitation or pause.
Mu Yiran let Ke Xun's head rest on his shoulder, gently placing his hand on Ke Xun's still-warm head. Looking up at the raging, struggling whirlwind of demons at the top of the dome, he whispered in Ke Xun's ear.
"Now that I think about it, perhaps the hints 'Faith' gave us, besides the coexistence and struggle between good and evil, also included the most important point: 'a painting within a painting.' "
No wonder you felt so oppressed in that painting; everything seemed fake.
"Perhaps you're like the ancient Gaoyang clan, or that wise man from the Qin Dynasty, a rare 'superpowered being,' a bug accidentally created by the 'gods' when they created humans.
"Of course, you don't have the power of observation, nor do you possess Wu You's extraordinary eyes, but you're more sensitive than others; you can subtly sense the existence of higher-dimensional spaces—though this is of little use to us."
"Do you remember what you said in 'Faith'? You said your intuition was always accurate. But you also said that intuition is like luck; if you use it too much, it runs out and stops working. Have you ever felt that you've been depleting your intuition? It's come true time and time again, but perhaps it's also being depleted time and time again, until... until this time.
This time you said your intuition was that we really wouldn't survive. I hope this is the first time your intuition has failed after it's been exhausted.
When we went back to collect the blood just now, I still had something I didn't have time to tell you. I'm sorry to have left you, with such a strong sense of curiosity, with an unsolved mystery.
I think it's certain that there are beings in the seventh dimension. Do you remember how the historical records describe the disappearance of the Nine Cauldrons? They say one of them flew into the Si River, and the other eight disappeared immediately afterward."
"What kind of power could make those nine heavy cauldrons fly into the water or disappear into thin air? The master who could glimpse the 'secrets of heaven' said: 'There are heavens beyond heavens, and humans are like ants. Even the nine divine cauldrons are but a speck of dust.
' "And he also said later, 'Heaven and earth are boundless, and creation is infinite.' Every word describes a grander worldview, another 'heaven and earth.'
"Therefore, the nine cauldrons are 'knowable but invisible, visible but unattainable.' Consciousness can transcend time and space and dimensions to reach the location of the nine cauldrons, and the power that can make the nine cauldrons disappear into thin air and only be seen in another dimension can only be found in the seventh dimension.
"Another strong piece of evidence for the power of the seventh dimension acting on our world is the blank periods in the semi-historical era that Shao Ling mentioned."
"If we imagine those historical gaps as objects, doesn't this kind of disappearance seem familiar? Isn't it like the Nine Tripods, vanishing without a trace?
The ability to discard a period of history, all the events that occurred on a timeline, like drawing a playing card—only seven-dimensional beings possess this ability, and only seven-dimensional beings can do it.
The semi-historical era is evidence of seven-dimensional beings arbitrarily manipulating the lower-dimensional universe, proving that their interference in the lower-dimensional universe can completely disregard physical rules; the so-called time paradox can even be valid.
So what kind of existence is our world to seven-dimensional beings? A painting? Perhaps. Perhaps we call a painting 'painting,' but in the seven-dimensional world, it might be called something else, and its functions and attributes might be completely different from our definition of a painting.
But whatever our world is in their eyes, whatever its purpose, we lower beings are nothing more than ants and dust to them.
We are unsure how seven-dimensional beings will deal with us 'ants.'" A race is usually wary and hostile towards another race of similar strength, because they cannot be sure if the other harbors any hostility. However, they are often more likely to feel sympathy towards races far weaker than themselves.
"Of course, the situations I've described are only one in trillions of possibilities. A singularity can lead to countless timelines and parallel universes, and generate countless possibilities. What I've described is just one of them, with an extremely slim chance.
"So we can only use the word 'gamble.' We're gambling on that one in trillions of possibilities—that our consciousness can transcend dimensions and communicate with the native beings in the seventh dimension. After all, anything is possible in the seventh dimension, anything can happen.
"It cannot be ignored that if our consciousness can cross dimensions to reach the seventh dimension, the consciousness of demons and monsters can probably do the same. We want to use our consciousness to communicate with seventh-dimensional beings, thereby attempting to change what has already happened, and demons and monsters can do the same.
"That's why we say we're gambling on that minuscule possibility of winning the battle of consciousness against demons and monsters."
"This isn't just baseless speculation. Remember, our consciousness has been intertwined with the power of ghostly script.
This power originates from the seventh dimension and was created by seventh-dimensional beings. If our definition of 'painting' differs in essence and attributes from the 'painting' of seventh-dimensional beings, then the seal is different. Since it's inherited from our creators—the seventh-dimensional beings—it means that at least some of its functions are similar to its definition in the seventh dimension.
Here, a seal can be a mark, a seal, or an energy core condensing the artist's consciousness and spiritual power. In the seventh dimension, it can also be a mark, a seal, or an energy core.
If that's the case, we have the advantage of interacting with seventh-dimensional beings. Imagine thirteen ants fed with human food fighting hundreds or thousands of wild ants. As humans, which side would we emotionally lean towards?"
"Even so, our chances of success are still only one in trillions. After all, we are just lower beings; we cannot use human emotions and behavioral logic to deduce the true nature of a higher being.
"We only have this one sliver of hope. To search for life amidst nine deaths, to seek the truth amidst mountains and seas, to find each other in the primordial universe.
"That's it. Ke Xun, see you in another dimension.
"I love you."
Mu Yiran gently kissed the already cold lips of the person in his arms, and along with the kiss fell a drop of warm water.
The massive, heavy column of tornado at the top of the dome abruptly halted. Its gray outer layer, black core, and crimson patterns, frozen in time as it churned and surged, resembled a hideous, terrifying lava behemoth, its feet planted on the barren earth, its head bowed against the desolate sky, its massive, scaly body staring at the small altar below.
The howling wind ceased, the ghostly wails stopped abruptly, and the entire world fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The thirteen figures depicted in the painting above the altar lay motionless, quieter than the heavens and earth themselves.
The next second, the column of tornado exploded like a burst of thick black fireworks, engulfing the entire sky with a deafening roar. The piercing cries of ghosts and demons amplified billions of times in that instant, a deafening, tearing, cheering, and boiling roar that surged from heaven to earth and from earth to heaven—for millennia! They had been sealed deep underground, hidden from the sun, for millennia! Who could imagine their suffering and humiliation! Who could comprehend their sorrow and despair!
They once shared this world with humanity—sunlight, air, color, mountains, and seas.
Heaven knows how much they longed to regain all this beauty!
For thousands of years—who can truly understand what they endured through millennia of torment and despair?
How many of their disheartened kind gradually accepted this sorrowful reality, lowering their heads as they yearned for sunlight above, finally forgetting their original aspirations and resigning themselves to their fate?
Now, how many of their kind still remember their initial faith?! How many still refuse to relinquish their pursuit and yearning for sunlight, struggling against the forces above?!
If even their spirit and faith die, what difference is there between them and the living dead?!
—But now!
—The moment they've longed for for millennia has finally arrived!—Charge
! Charge out of this disgusting, cold underground world! Charge towards the sun, towards the light, towards the clear and bright world, to reclaim everything that belongs to them, to slaughter all humanity, to slaughter all these alien creatures! They have ravaged this world, leaving it riddled with holes; they are no longer worthy to be its rulers!
—All things in the world cycle, die and are reborn, prosperity inevitably declines, and things rise and fall—it is time for a rebirth, a change of era, a new beginning!
Billions upon billions of demons and ghosts celebrated, revelled, and surged onto the human world in a grand celebration. In this extreme excitement, amidst the impending cataclysmic roar that seemed to tear the heavens and earth apart, on that small, cold, and quiet altar, Mu Yiran smiled, extending his slender, artist-like hand and gently placing it on the bright red seal beneath him.
"Mountains and Seas."
It was the most wondrous and greatest painting he, as an art dealer, had ever appraised in his life.
Truly, the trip was worthwhile.
...
Just like when those who entered the painting successfully left its world, a bright, dazzling light radiated from the seal beneath them towards the four corners of the earth, carrying an unimaginable, powerful force.
...
Light casually picked up the water glass he had accidentally spilled, and casually flicked the unfortunate 3D holographic membrane with his fingertips.
This lowest-grade 3D holographic membrane would have been gathering dust long ago in the Hall of Beams if it weren't for the fact that his grandfather quite liked it.
The reason his grandfather liked this low-grade holographic membrane, which even children didn't particularly care for, was because it was a birthday gift that Light had clumsily made himself.
Light himself felt very embarrassed.
A 3D holographic membrane, so low-grade, and he had made it structurally unstable, with energy leakage... Look, it's overflowing again! ...It's practically a defective product, utterly shameful.
Light glanced at it furtively, and when his grandfather wasn't looking, he planned to erase his own anchor mark from the holographic membrane.
—I absolutely can't let anyone know that I made this embarrassing gift myself, hmm!
There wasn't time to retrieve the leaked low-level micro-matter energy particles; I only focused on flicking back the few micro-matter energy particles carrying the anchor imprint energy to the holographic membrane. Otherwise, the missing anchor imprint energy would cause damage to the membrane surface. After all, this was a gift for Grandpa; it couldn't be too hasty.
Erasing the anchor imprint was an extremely simple matter.
I glanced at it casually and directly moved a timeline back to before the anchor imprint appeared.
See, it's that simple and easy.
Having achieved my goal, I elegantly dusted off the few specks of dust that had accidentally fallen from the holographic membrane, got up, and left.
"
...I've always been timid and cowardly...From childhood to adulthood, I've always hidden behind Ke'er, always being protected and shielded by him. But in this life, I want to be brave just once...This time, let me lead the charge for everyone, Ke'er, everyone," Wei Dong pulled out his utility knife, smiling as he said, "See you in another dimension."
With that, he raised his hand, the sharp blade of the utility knife trembling, yet forcefully slashing at the carotid artery in his neck—"—Holy crap—"
Wei Dong felt as if he'd been burned, and flung the knife away.
On the quiet altar, thirteen people stood dumbfounded, staring blankly at each other.
The clear, bright night sky of the plateau, with its sparse winter stars, shone brilliantly. In the distance, snow-capped mountains
stretched endlessly, vast and magnificent. The crystalline snow light shone on the valley like a silver veil, carrying a dreamlike and distant, mysterious and tranquil quality reminiscent of ancient mythology.
The sharp, crisp winter wind relentlessly whipped at their faces and bodies. Luo Yu and Wu You sneezed several times in succession, and the thirteen people who had been standing stiffly for a moment slowly came to their senses.
"…Holy shit—what the hell was that?!" Li Xiaochun jumped up and roared, "Holy shit—it was so damn scary—holy shit—it was scarier than death! Scarier than demons and ghosts! What the hell was that?!"
"A seven-dimensional being, I guess," Hua Jiqiu said, wiping his fogged glasses. "A higher being that defies all human imagination."
"So…we're…alright? We're back to life?" Wei Dong glanced at Mu Yiran, then at Ke Xun, and then at Fang Fei.
"Otherwise?" Fang Fei asked rhetorically, but still subconsciously touched her temple to check if there were any bullet holes there.
"This means our timeline has been altered, but not to create a parallel universe; it was forcibly changed directly on the original timeline," Zhu Haowen organized his thoughts. "So, we are still who we were, but from this point onward, it will be a completely new timeline."
"Hey! Who cares what timeline comes after? As long as we're alive, that's the only thing that matters! Hahahaha! Hahahaha! Ahahahahaha!" Wei Dong laughed wildly, then burst into tears.
This crying seemed to trigger some kind of empathy mechanism; Li Xiaochun, Luo Yi, Wu You, and Gu Qingqing all joined in, some hugging each other, others curling up in a ball. Li Xiaochun even collapsed onto the altar, sobbing uncontrollably.
Even Hua Jiqiu and Yue Cen were moved and shed tears as well.
"Interestingly, we still retain the memories of when we were conscious beings," Zhu Haowen continued, still recalling everything that had happened.
"You need to understand," Shao Ling said, his voice trembling slightly, "seven-dimensional beings wouldn't care about these things, just like we wouldn't care if a speck of dust stuck to the sole of our shoe ended up on a flower."
"We've seen a lot in our lives," Qin Ci said with a smile.
"Yeah, the side effect is that everything around me now seems utterly tasteless, and ridiculously insignificant," Zhu Haowen said coolly.
"You're truly 'once you've seen the ocean, you can't be satisfied with a river,'" Shao Ling said, gradually becoming more relaxed.
"You experts… can you stop this nonsense… I'm hungry… I want to eat meat…" Wei Dong wailed.
"I'll make it… I'll make it…" Li Xiaochun cried loudly.
"I'll help… I'll help you…" Wu You sobbed.
Gu Qingqing, unable to speak from her sobs, could only nod repeatedly.
"I… I can't get down from the altar…" Luo Yu cried, standing on the edge of the altar, looking down. How could the altar be so high? How did he even get up there?
"…Where are Ke'er and…and Boss?" Wei Dong looked around, tears
streaming down his face. "Oh—where are Ke'er and Boss?! They didn't come back?! Huh?!" Fang Fei, surprisingly, had a tissue with her, which she pulled out and handed to him. "Your tears are on my face. They just went down from the altar."
"Huh?!" Wei Dong took the tissue, wiping his nose in surprise. "Why did they go so quietly? What did they do?"
"What else could they do?" Fang Fei said.
They didn't do anything.
Ke Xun and Mu Yiran sat quietly together in Mu Yiran's Knight XV, gazing at the night sky outside the window.
From birth to death, from death to birth, perhaps no other couple in this world could share such an experience.
A cycle of life and death.
Some words no longer needed to be said to each other.
Until the aroma of Li Xiaochun's barbecue wafted into the car, Ke Xun smiled. "Let's go eat meat."
…
Facing the platinum-gold north wind of the morning, the convoy quietly left the Nalenggler Canyon.
Ke Xun sat in the passenger seat, his gaze gently shifting from Mu Yiran's serene profile to the distant cosmos outside the car window. He
ascended, passing through thick clouds, across the vast sky, and over the magnificent galaxy.
A four-dimensional timeline, a five-dimensional time plane, the warped spacetime of a six-dimensional universe, the infinite universe of a seven-dimensional being.
Ke Xun leaned against the car window, recalling his past self as a conscious being.
It was strange.
Yiran and his companions' consciousnesses had crossed dimensions with him, arriving in the seven-dimensional space.
They remained there, but he continued to ascend.
Why?
Perhaps it was because he felt suffocated. Like in the painting "Faith," he struggled to breathe, he couldn't catch his breath—though he didn't know how a conscious being could feel this way.
So he desperately ascended, ascended, not knowing where he wanted to go, but wanting to escape this suffocating space and get some fresh air.
And so, he arrived in the eight-dimensional space.
The infinite universe of a seven-dimensional being.
An infinite number of infinite universes in eight dimensions.
Then, there's the ninth dimension, where one can freely travel between any two points in the eight-dimensional space; the tenth dimension, where all physical matter is manifested as strings vibrating at different frequencies; and… the eleventh-dimensional supermembrane space, composed of time, space, memory, and perception.
Ke Xun could no longer see the universe he came from, and even the supreme, high-level seven-dimensional God space, which seemed so small and insignificant here. All around
him was a vast, boundless expanse of infinitely elastic membrane universes.
To compare himself to a speck of dust at this moment would be an exaggeration by trillions of times.
Floating in such a vast and boundless super-universe, why… why did he still feel so suffocated?
No wonder Yi Ran said he was more sensitive than others.
Ke Xun, feeling suffocated, could only aimlessly search for a way out.
Suddenly, as if breaking