"Everyone, evacuate immediately! The art museum is temporarily closed!"
While Fu Qian admired the painting, a voice had already come from below.
Compared to the bewildered visitors, the voice sounded much more composed. It was clearly coming from a professional.
That was fast. Was this place built next to a police station or something?
Fu Qian didn't need to look to know that the newcomers weren't with the art museum's security guards.
The response was a little too quick, though. It had only been a few minutes.
Fu Qian still didn't move. He continued admiring the art on his own, and quickly came to a realization: this was one hundred percent an authentic painting of his.
Not to mention, that faint, familiar feeling that helped him place it served as proof.
Compared to when he'd left, it had become a little more weathered.
And according to the Witch, he should have painted it seven years ago.
It wasn't too strange for it to have changed this much, especially since the difference wasn't all that great.
The Witch and he both knew perfectly well that decline would eventually come. All they'd done back then was make the process seem natural.
The problem now was that, despite being only slightly old, the painting didn't seem to hold any power at all.
In the time it had taken, Fu Qian, a newly promoted Second Order with an Inspiration score of 99, had examined it from every angle.
Aside from being well painted, he couldn't see anything else remarkable about it.
Even the already mottled areas in the corners had clearly received careful treatment to slow their deterioration.
With all that care, the painting had lost every last trace of the grandeur it once had when it brought about the Snowfall Calamity.
Had