The Forty-sixth Illustration: A Marvelous Exhibition of Creative Ideas

PS. Here is the May Day update. Don’t rush off to have fun after reading—remember to cast your monthly vote. Starting now, the Qidian 515 Fans Festival offers double monthly tickets, and there are other events with red envelope giveaways, so feel free to check those out!

Sangsang wore her school uniform, a white robe with gold trim from the special class, the badge discreetly removed. The hood of the robe shaded half her face. Little Jin perched on her shoulder, clutching her collar and peering out from under the hood. His acceptance of the bizarrely shaped aliens surpassed Sangsang’s by far, though every so often, when he saw a giant octopus, he’d start talking about barbecue; when he spotted a massive crab, he’d mention the joys of steaming; and at the sight of flying fish, his eyes would gleam red as he extolled the virtues of spicy braising...

“Ingredients can’t be chosen at random—they must first be tested for sentience. Consuming beings above the threshold is considered murder, and even ignorant minors would be held accountable.” Sangsang flicked Little Jin’s tiny head with her finger, relieved that he’d only spoken to her telepathically. If someone overheard them, at the very least she’d be accused of racial prejudice, and at worst, she might even earn the title of man-eater.

The tiered seating appeared limited, but no matter how many people stepped onto it, no one was ever pushed off. And regardless of where you stood, you could see the exhibit in the center, close enough to touch.

“What principle is this? Space folding, or reality-shifting?” Sangsang sensed the shifting laws within the exhibition hall. Unfortunately, the crowd was too dense for her to safely extend her psychic sense for a thorough analysis. Still, she mused, the devil is in the details—what a terrifying place the Temple is.

Not to mention the divine tomb; even this ordinary exhibition hall was woven through with complex and formidable laws. Then there were the treehouses in the Forest of All Beings—every extra day spent inside revealed the strength of the space itself. What she’d grasped so far was only the barest surface, not even a fraction of the true essence, let alone returning to simplicity or mastering its source.

With reverence, Sangsang composed herself and began to observe the other entries. It was truly an eye-opener. The submissions spanned every possible medium: the familiar ones, often seen in the Divine Encyclopedia—song and dance, musical instruments, medicines, weapons, calligraphy, painting, sculpture—and the less common, like weaving, tailoring, forging, and cultivation. There were even bizarre choices, like hair, bathwater, and bodily fluids.

The works were arranged in reverse order by physical test ranking—the better the results, the higher the tier. But higher placement didn’t necessarily mean greater power.

As Sangsang walked along, it occurred to her that, perhaps because creativity was required, most entries focused on offense and defense, with very few dedicated solely to healing. Still, by tradition, every showcased work possessed at least two effects; the descriptions listed only one, and to learn more, one had to enter the exhibit room. Occasionally, a ghost symbol marked a piece, indicating a prank effect.

Prank-infused works were rare—fewer than one in ten. Sangsang noticed that, despite the crowds filling every room, those marked with the ghost symbol were even livelier. It made one wonder if the students of the Divine Academy all enjoyed a touch of masochism, voluntarily subjecting themselves to others’ tricks.

One prank effect resembled what Boya had once mentioned: a forced confession of true feelings—but in reverse, causing the afflicted to say the opposite of what they meant. At first, this led to couples quarreling over misunderstandings, but once the truth came out, the room became a popular spot for romantic confessions.

Another prank transformed the victim into the appearance of the species they most envied. Thus, the alchemy room was filled with all manner of exotic beings—ancient divine beasts like dragons, phoenixes, and gluttons among the beastly forms; elves, faeries, and ancient shamans among the humanoids; and a few rarities like mechanical, ghostly, and octopoid forms.

The neighboring booth bore a similar prank mark, likely created by another candidate who knew the first. This one had the opposite effect: it transformed the victim into the species they most disliked. Compared to its neighbor, this room was far quieter; only the bold ventured in, finding themselves turned into swamp monsters, gooselings, slimefolk, insectoids, and other grotesque and wicked races.

Other pranks included growing an extra head, an additional arm or leg, becoming very fat or thin, having mismatched nerve responses, reversed sense of smell, speaking in animal noises, blurred vision rendering all faces indistinguishable, or a body part suddenly gaining sentience and the ability to speak.

Some pranks wore off upon leaving the booth; others persisted for a day or several days. The longest-lasting required a full month to expire.

Works involving singing, dancing, or instruments were the most frequent. No matter the type, music and movement had a universally captivating quality—people couldn’t help but pause, wanting to step inside and appreciate them closely. Sight and sound truly were the most direct ways to move people.

After lingering a moment, Sangsang continued upward, her expression growing more solemn. Through these works, she glimpsed the Temple’s standards for recording—did these combine the laws of time and memory? Was there a printing law for paintings, allowing them to be copied at will?

Energy weapons, medicines, and sculptures were also popular. There were both cold and hot weapons; one energy armor in particular left a deep impression on Sangsang. It condensed energy into tangible form, worn and nurtured by the wearer’s internal force, synchronizing energy with life force. In an emergency, the armor could break down and merge directly into internal energy, a clear advantage over mere energy storage artifacts. Each weapon was impressive—offense, defense, or all-in-one, each had its own merits. In contrast, medicine entries were much more ordinary, perhaps because the interstellar pharmaceutical industry was so advanced and apothecaries so numerous that it was hard to create anything new in this category. Some sculptures, however, were novel: Sangsang spotted three-dimensional works in the style of advanced civilizations, merging the aesthetics of both third-level and higher-level societies.

Entries requiring physical transformation—like weaving, tailoring, forging, and cultivation—were not uncommon. Perhaps this was due to the everyday use of energy, making physical objects less necessary for basic needs, and fewer people now worked in those fields. After all, their audience was mostly mortals below the Mystic rank, and as a medium for faith gathering, these crafts had their drawbacks. Sangsang wasn’t particularly interested, but Little Jin’s eyes sparkled. He even downloaded specialized tutorials from the web, eager to learn himself.

Tugging at Sangsang’s ear, Little Jin whispered, “Once I’ve learned, I’ll design clothes for you.”

Sangsang’s lips curved in a soft smile, her gaze gentle. “Alright, but there’s no rush. Senna’s already prepared plenty of outfits for me.”

Little Jin huffed, “All the other contestants wear their ethnic costumes, and only you’re in uniform. I’m going to design traditional Huaxia-style outfits for you—that’ll be your signature look in the future.”

“Then I’ll look forward to wearing your new creations.” Sangsang nuzzled him. “The uniform’s not bad, though. It blocks others’ mental probes and isn’t affected by domain sealing. Most of the students here are in uniform too. Wait, this literary medium is interesting.”

She’d noticed a few literary entries before, but they were all “novel worlds” of one kind or another, just with different world types. Having comprehended the myriad-worlds law, Sangsang found these rather shallow. But this literary piece was different—it didn’t create worlds, but, through description, brought objects into existence. And not just lifeless things—even plants and low-level animals could be produced.

“The law of life—creation itself? If this were used in painting, would it be like the legendary Magic Brush?”

PS: Ladies, don’t forget to vote after you finish reading!

Thank you all for your continued support. This time, the Qidian 515 Fans Festival features the Writers’ Hall of Honor and the overall works selection—I hope you’ll show your support. There are also red envelope packages to claim during the festival, so grab them and keep up your subscriptions!