Feng: "You may have no more questions, but I still have an unresolved doubt."
Feng paused, looking at Angel: "I’ve already divulged the whole truth, including revealing the final treasure to you. Now, can you answer the initial question I posed?"
"How did you stop the Demon God calamity?"
Angel remained silent.
Feng sighed softly: "It seems I won’t get an answer."
After hesitating for a moment, Angel finally spoke: "If Mr. Feng wants to know the outcome of the demon catastrophe, I can tell you that the True Spirit of the Lord of the Flameless has fallen. But if you’re asking about the process, I can only say... it was I who killed him, yet it wasn’t me who killed him."
"It was you who killed him, yet it wasn’t you?" Feng squinted slightly, seemingly pondering this answer.
He could tell that Angel wasn’t lying. If he were lying, there’d be no reason to give such an incongruous answer.
The answer, with its contradictory statements, clearly means something else...
Feng tried asking Angel a few questions from different angles, but Angel would no longer respond. It was apparent that this answer was Angel’s bottom line.
Angel’s unwillingness to answer surely indicates some hidden secret. He killed, yet didn’t kill — the two "he’s" must be referring to someone. Why would one person have such completely contradictory answers? Could it be...
Feng considered a possibility: With Angel’s capabilities, he had no qualification to stand before a Demon God, not even its True Spirit. Perhaps the one who acted wasn’t Angel, but another "person" who just borrowed Angel’s hand?
Feng voiced this conjecture.
Angel continued to keep silent, but Feng noticed a slight twitch at the corner of Angel’s eye.
"I suppose that’s the real answer. However, Angel doesn’t want to say it, maybe because that person’s identity is significant... To kill a Demon God’s True Spirit, and using someone like Angel, an ordinary wizard, that person is certainly extraordinary." Feng pictured a great figure standing behind Angel.
Such a great figure indeed shouldn’t be probed. Perhaps just uttering their name would alert them to the situation here.
Feng himself was just a sliver of consciousness woven into a painting, so he wasn’t worried about being noticed, but he didn’t want to bring trouble to his True Body.
It’s important to remember, if such a great figure finds out about the "Book of Kael," they might indeed feel "tricked" and become furious.
So, it’s best not to delve into it.
"The time is about up," Feng said.
Angel looked up: "Mr. Feng, are you going to dissipate?"
"What do you mean dissipate? I’m just a consciousness. Though I am Feng, I won’t dissipate, the part that will is..." Feng reflexively corrected him, but after realizing it was getting more entangled, he simply closed his mouth: "Never mind, let’s just say I am to dissipate."
"Then should I say goodbye?"
Feng: "Wait."
Feng urged Angel to wait a moment, but without speaking further, he lightly tapped the tabletop, conjuring a paintbrush out of thin air.
Then Feng ripped some bark from the tree behind him, and with a gentle wipe, the bark transformed into a dark canvas. Holding the brush, he waved it skyward, borrowing dark ink from the Nightfall to draw outlines on the canvas. Then, he borrowed a little pure bright color from the starlight, and with a brush stroke, glowing spots of luminescence appeared on the canvas.
In just a few strokes, Angel saw Feng paint an oil painting.
The scene in the painting was precisely the setting of their conversation. With the starry sky as the curtain and the wilderness as the backdrop, Angel and Feng sat opposite each other, with starlight casting and outlining shadows on their faces, both speaking with smiles.
At the moment the painting was completed, the entire starry sky seemed to release energy, reflected into the painting.
Simultaneously, Angel felt the surrounding space gradually darken. Previously it was hazily dim, but now it turned pitch black, as if the entire painted world was merging with darkness.
The primordial Magic Power in the air also disappeared. This world in the painting, already desolate, suddenly became a true dead world.
As the world began to collapse, Feng calmly tore another piece of bark, swiftly refined it into an elegant wood-grain frame, and fitted the oil painting into it.
Then, Feng handed the entire painting to Angel.
"Consider this my last gift to you." When Feng handed it to Angel, he continued to ramble: "I hadn’t intended to give it, but you are worth it..."
Angel looked at the painting, sensing it was no ordinary piece. There was a latent energy within the painting.
Though the energy wasn’t plentiful, its essence was extremely high. Only a wizard of legendary rank or above could condense such energy.
Without a doubt, Feng concentrated all the energy of this painted world into this piece.
That’s also why this fragment of Feng’s consciousness, which could have lingered another half-day, ended prematurely instead.
"The name of this painting is noted at the bottom left corner."
Angel glanced over. The bottom left corner held a simple title: "Bosom Friends... Night Talk?"
Feng caught the questioning tone at the end of Angel’s words: "What, you think I’m not worthy of being your bosom friend?"
Angel wanted to say it wasn’t that Feng wasn’t worthy, but that they had just met. Perhaps in a few decades, this moment could be nostalgically regarded as an encounter with an old friend, but jumping straight to bosom friends left Angel puzzled.
Though this crossed his mind, Angel dared not say it aloud, instead replying: "Mr. Feng is above the rank of Legend, and I’m just a beginner on the wizard’s path. It feels like I’m not worthy."
Feng smiled warmly: "There’s no unworthiness. I said, you’re worth it."
After pausing, Feng continued: "And, the title of this painting wasn’t specifically made for you, but rather intended for my True Body to see."
Angel: "Ah?"
Feng’s form was beginning to turn transparent, knowing he would soon disappear, so his speech became straightforward: "You’ve reached the mysterious level, which is quite an accomplishment. Speaking only for myself, I hope my True Body maintains a friendly relationship with you. Maybe in the future, if you truly enter the mysterious realm, my True Body could use this connection to our advantage."
"The energy within the painting represents the special energy of the Turing Rubik’s Cube. If you encounter any difficulties, you can take this painting to find someone associated with the Turing Rubik’s Cube or even my True Body. Presenting this painting, they’ll understand."
As he finished speaking, everything below Feng’s neck dissolved into glowing specks that scattered away.
"I hope for our paths to cross again in the future."
With these final words, Feng vanished entirely. Simultaneously, a passageway opened before Angel, leading to a stone platform outside.
Angel looked at the world in the painting, now mostly collapsed, quickly signaling Wang Wang to return to the bracelet space.
After completing this, Angel gazed at the painting titled "Bosom Friends Night Talk" on the table.
After a moment of hesitation, Angel sighed gently in his heart and decided to take the elegantly framed oil painting with him.
Turning on his heels, he walked into the passageway.