Outside the Painting

An Chen entered the area shrouded by Blue Silver Grass through the shadows. Everything inside was pitch-black.

Adrian sat cross-legged at the very center. When he opened his eyes, one was black, while the other was a compound eye swirling with seven colors.

He quietly watched An Chen, who no longer felt the oppressive pressure from before.

An aged voice sounded. "You are the only variable besides us."

A variable?

"You do not seem to be native to Douluo Continent, as though you came from somewhere else. Of course, that is not because of the Sequence Power within you."

What did this old man mean? Did he know I was a transmigrator? Sequence Power? Potions?

An Chen was puzzled, but he showed no outward sign of it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," An Chen said calmly.

A faint smile tugged at the old man's gaunt face as he continued, "You do not need to explain anything. The existence I worship possesses symbolism related to this."

He slowly rose to his feet and looked at the composed An Chen. "I once read this history—or rather, this trajectory—of Douluo Continent. I know its protagonists and plot, yet you were not part of it."

Could he be talking about the novel I read before transmigrating? Was he really that extraordinary?

"I personally saw that the Divine Realm from the original trajectory did not exist."

He paused, then continued, "I assume that, like me, you worship some great existence."

The Divine Realm did not exist? A great existence... did the Fool count? Was this old man trying to deceive me?

The old man's compound eye flickered, as though he had seen through An Chen's thoughts.

"Afraid I am lying to you? Go see for yourself." As he spoke, the old man's seven-colored