Now, in the timeline of the Unofficial History of the Divine Court, among the myriad worlds of the heavens.
Ning Zheng and the Painter, who had come at his invitation, sat across from each other at the table.
The Painter smiled, took out his brush, and painted all kinds of delicacies and exotic dishes. Even the aroma of the food was uncannily real.
"What's wrong? After visiting prehistory, do you feel a sense of loss, as if something is missing from your life? It must be hard to get used to." He suddenly said, "No appetite?"
Ning Zheng glanced at him.
"Of course I can tell that you're restless. To paint a person, you must first observe them—observe their bearing, vitality, and spirit." The Painter smiled. "Although we rarely interact, I've always regarded you as a close friend and kindred spirit."
A kindred spirit?
Does he want to paint me and lay my heart bare?
The Painter's expression remained calm. "Once you witness one stretch of history after another, the rise and fall of countless dynasties, you'll slowly get used to it. As a High-dimensional Life, the first thing you must learn is to enjoy solitude."
"We are transcendent-dimensional powerhouses, Supreme Beings who have set foot in eternity. To us, lives of an era are like grains of sand by the roadside—created at will, destroyed at will."
"For example, we created this Unofficial History of the Divine Court. If we wished, we could wipe it out just as easily."
The Painter assumed that Ning Zheng had become bewildered by the tangled timelines after visiting prehistory. He had no idea that Ning Zheng was investigating certain truths.
Creating a civilization spanning millions of years in a single second, destroying an entire expanse of galaxies with a thought—such power could indeed easily