He stepped out of the Arkham cinema.
By the time he left Arkham Asylum, it was already the next morning.
Sunlight gently caressed the asylum shrouded in mist, making it unexpectedly reveal a hint of the true beauty and goodness of the human world.
Lu Ban felt very satisfied. He had watched several excellent films. Of course, among the films he had reviewed, there had also been dull and cliché-ridden ones, but their flaws had not overshadowed their merits. The joy humanity brought through its creativity still comforted Lu Ban.
As for Bao Bao, she was equally satisfied, having eaten her fill throughout the night.
The horror stirred by films played on the supernatural projector, along with the fear Lu Ban had forced her to experience by making her watch the films, had all become the finest nourishment for her.
That next morning, Arkham Asylum discharged dozens of patients. Some of them had stayed there for five or six years without ever recovering. Now, Lu Ban had restored them to normal simply by playing films for them, allowing them to reclaim the lives they deserved. That could be considered a deed of merit.
It was certainly something to celebrate.
After leaving the hospital, Lu Ban immediately handed his review to the judging committee across the street.
As for the subsequent awards ceremony, he had no interest in attending.
Lu Ban had always believed that liking a creator did not necessarily mean one had to communicate with them directly. What one liked was their work, while the creator might have all kinds of personalities. One might originally admire their work, only to change one's opinion after interacting with the creator, making it impossible to view the work purely. In that case, one would also lose sight of the original purpose of