Chapter 644 What Does It Have to Do with Me?

The west wall is the dividing line between the "stage" and the "audience". The performance on the stage will not affect the audience, and the audience cannot intervene in the performance... As long as the "west wall" exists, the story is just a story after all.

And the painting in front of Chen Ling is also just a "story".

The bombers are buzzing overhead, innocent residents are crying in the sea of ​​fire, Chen Ling saw the fresh corpses fall in front of him, but there is no emotion in his scarlet eyes...

The red dress stood there quietly, like an "audience" who strayed into this place.

At this moment, all the characters in the painting who followed him stayed stiffly in place, and the roars, roars, and cries stopped abruptly.

They looked at the red dress in fear, and in a trance, the existence of the red dress became illusory... As if they were in the same dimension, and sometimes they seemed to be non-existent. He was between "real" and "false", making it elusive.

They stopped, but Chen Ling did not;

Chen Ling was still approaching the soldier's body.

The scarlet embers danced in Chen Ling's eyes, just like the thousands of "eyes of the audience" in the void behind him, with seven parts of coldness and three parts of teasing. The only difference between him and those "audiences" was that he wore a brightly colored dress and had a face with three-dimensional features.

But now, his face had no expression, and even his features gradually blurred, and began to gradually lose the characteristics of "Chen Ling"...

He was turning into an "audience".

The soldier's body was like a mountain, floating in the void. It did not make any sound, but the emotional radiation it conveyed contained thousands of years of angry roars that had never stopped!

"They all deserve to die!!!"

"I will kill these invaders! I will make them die with everyone in this city!!"

"Come on! Come on!!"

"My sword will cut everything! Even if I have nothing left!!"

"No... No!"

"Why... Why can't I do anything? ! ! Why!!"

"Damn... Damn!! I'm too weak... I'm so unwilling... I'm so unwilling!!!"

"..."

The deafening roar, mixed with invisible emotions, echoed in "Guernica";

The man in red calmly walked under him, held the broken sword beside the soldier expressionlessly, and then raised it with one hand...

and gently swung it down.

Buzz——! !

The soldier's unwilling roar came to an abrupt end.

The body, which was hundreds of times larger than Chen Ling, slowly split apart from the center, as if an invisible sword fell from the sky and split it in half... Its body disintegrated in the void, and the thousand years of anger and unwillingness contained in it were as fragile as paper under this sword.

Scarlet residual fire drifted in the corners of Chen Ling's eyes. He held the broken sword in one hand and looked at this scene expressionlessly, like an indifferent "audience".

"What does your anger have to do with me?"

[Audience Expectation Value +5]

This sword shattered the soldier's body and all its emotions... In the fragmented body, endless unwillingness and resentment turned into a nearly tangible black mist, rushing towards Chen Ling frantically, already treating Chen Ling as the object of venting.

But the existence of the "Western Wall" blocked all these resentful emotions. The rolling black mist swept across, but could not touch the red clothes in it!

Chen Ling did not care about these, but looked behind him, at the other characters who were frozen in place.

Although these characters did not dare to provoke Chen Ling, their existence itself contains extremely strong emotions. Although these emotions are silent, they spread in a radiation-like form and are extremely noisy in Chen Ling's ears.

"It's so hot!! My body is so hot!!"

"Someone come to save my child... He is dying, someone come to save him!"

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die! I just broke a leg, I can still crawl... Don't leave me!!"

"My home is destroyed, my wife and children are dead! This group of damn beasts..."

The existence of any one of them means extreme despair and pain, and no one can not be moved by the emotions they radiate. And the emotions radiated by these people combined can drive anyone in the world crazy... Except Chen Ling.

Chen Ling held the sword, stepped on the void, and approached them step by step.

The sword rose and fell.

The woman holding the child closest to him was instantly cut in half, followed by the woman on fire next to him. Chen Ling chopped them all up in front of him expressionlessly, and her painful pleas came to an abrupt end...

Chen Ling did not feel sorry for them, but only thought they were noisy;

They could not suppress their resentment and rushed to Chen Ling frantically, but could only be blocked outside the "Western Wall". As Chen Ling killed more and more characters, he seemed to be surrounded by a black cloud, gloomy and terrifying!

"Alas..."

Just then, a sigh sounded from the void.

In the current "Guernica", all the characters were slaughtered by Chen Ling, and the 8 of Clubs fell into a coma again. This sudden sigh was like a flash of lightning in the dark night, extremely clear.

Chen Ling, surrounded by the black cloud, frowned unconsciously.

"...Who?"

Chen Ling's eyes swept across the Western Zhou Dynasty, but he did not see any figure, and the pupils of the "audience" in the void behind him seemed to have noticed something and locked onto a certain direction at the same time.

In the dark void, a curtain of the play was slowly opened.

““I see the sky crying”…”

A figure in a theatrical robe stood behind the curtain of the void. He did not step out, but looked like an actor standing on the stage, with one hand behind his back, and the melodious ballad echoed in the void.

When this ballad sounded, Chen Ling's body shook violently!

““I heard your voice”;”

““I smelled the longing blooming in the thorns”,”

““I came from the direction of the sunset”…”

When the western ballad came out, the rolling black clouds surrounding Chen Ling suddenly stagnated, and the resentment and unwillingness that had been gloomy for thousands of years, like ice and snow shot by the scorching sun, melted and dissipated at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The secret method of theatrical art - [Requiem Ballad].

The melodious ballad seemed to contain some kind of gentle and powerful power, washing away the resentment around Chen Ling. The song hit the "west wall" and was reflected and bounced away, but a part of it still quietly flowed into Chen Ling's ears.

Chen Ling was stunned.

The red light of "audience" burning in his pupils was gradually suppressed by this gentle ballad, and his facial features, which were originally blurring, also stopped changing at this moment.

He stared blankly at the familiar robe above the empty curtain, and murmured:

"Master... Master?"