"Art should be this very moment—the instant is eternity!"
Facing Zichuan's puppet, which was about to self-destruct, Mu Yuyi quickly composed his expression. A glimmer of appreciation appeared in his eyes as he spoke softly.
Hearing those words, Zichuan's violently surging aura trembled slightly. Somewhat surprised, he looked at the youth before him. This was the first time he had treated someone who entered this great hall so seriously.
"You understand?" Zichuan halted his movements.
"Art is explosion!" Mu Yuyi nodded lightly.
Although Mu Yuyi felt that both Deidara and Zichuan before him were somewhat insane, endlessly pursuing their so-called art and willing to pay any price for it, it was precisely this temperament that gave them a strange similarity in many ways.
Art was explosion. That was the art Deidara believed in. His art lay not in eternity, but in the instant.
Mu Yuyi did not understand the Zichuan before him, but he understood Deidara. Thus, he could use Deidara to understand Zichuan and thereby gain Zichuan's recognition.
"You are the first person to appreciate my art so deeply!" Zichuan said softly. At that moment, it was as though he had found a kindred spirit. He no longer needed to use self-destruction to prove the art he upheld, because the person before him understood it all.
The three types of spiritual energy that had been surging violently gradually calmed. Zichuan scrutinized the youth before him with a serious gaze. In his view, anyone capable of saying that art was explosion must be fundamentally like him—constantly pursuing art for art's sake.
Whether that art was the explosion he envisioned or not, such a kindred spirit was exceedingly rare.
In this regard, he was somewhat different from Deidara.
Deidara was a very straightforward person. He would argue with others over the