Purple Epic!
Ethan's eyes widened slightly, his breathing catching as he stared at the evaluation. First stunned, then filled with imnse joy! It wasn't in vain that he had exhausted himself and paid such a high price. This was a masterwork combining all his skills to create this magnificent mural!
Ethan turned his head, and what t his eyes was a painting occupying an entire wall. Iron-black gates hung high overhead; yellow and gray stone floors led toward dark, gloomy depths. An ancient historical atmosphere rushed at him, carrying the scent of mold and gri, intoxicatingly atmospheric. Though clearly flat, when examined carefully, one's gaze could penetrate behind those winding corridors, and one's legs involuntarily moved closer to it.
This was their Sen Amusent Park... truly joyful and fun. Do you have such a Sen Amusent Park?
Sen Castle
Type: Mural
Grade: Second Tier Purple Epic
Description: Miyazaki's childhood path ho
Effect: Allows people to truly enter within, experiencing trials and challenges; will exist forever unless the canvas is destroyed; cannot be recalled or transferred
Evaluation: You have recreated history
Painting Skill Level 3 advancent condition partially t!
Condition 1: Paint a second-tier Purple Epic artwork (Completed)
Condition 2: Hold a grand art exhibition for an existence that doesn't belong to this world
Condition 3: Locked
Soul Fusion increased by 1%
44% becos 45%
"Ah..." Ethan half-closed his eyes, feeling the fatigue in his body swept away as his soul fusion increased. His magical power replenished, like leveling up in an adventure ga and refilling his health bar. Comfortable.
Not only that, but he'd also satisfied one of the conditions for advancing to Level 3 painting skills. Thinking that his abilities could improve further, Ethan couldn't help but get excited. He almost wanted to stuff a few more creatures into the ancient city.
Unfortunately, he hadn't developed mimic chests this ti. Ethan hadn't found suitable contents. Perhaps it was ti to have Hagrid start his Blast-Ended Skrewt crossbreeding experints early... Surely that would bring even more joy to the world.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, do you like this painting?" Ethan asked sincerely, his eyes sparkling with pure light: "Unless Hogwarts collapses, this mural will stand here forever. Together becoming famous through the ages, leaving a lasting legacy. Would you like to co in and experience it?"
Dumbledore smiled warmly: "Thank you for the enthusiastic invitation, Mr. Vincent. But these old bones should pass and leave more opportunities for young people."
As he spoke, Dumbledore couldn't help but smile. It seed the school's restricted areas would gain another addition. But for those eternally restless little lions, the more they were forbidden from doing sothing, the more they wanted to do it. Like the Weasley twins, forever on the path of breaking school rules.
This ancient city might truly beco a great wonder of Hogwarts in the future. No, its very existence was already an incredible "wonder."
Dumbledore gazed at the magnificent mural he'd witnessed being painted from scratch with pignts, feeling deeply moved.
"I'm willing to pay five thousand Galleons as recognition for your outstanding contribution to Hogwarts. How about it, Mr. Vincent?" Dumbledore winked at Ethan.
Five thousand Galleons!
Ethan imdiately turned his head and squinted. He felt that old Dumbledore before him suddenly began radiating brilliant golden light, making him unable to look directly.
"I'm starting to respect you, Headmaster Dumbledore," Ethan said seriously.
Only now? Dumbledore stiffened, having ten thousand things he wanted to say. But in the end, he just shook his head and chuckled: "Thank you, Mr. Vincent. The best ti to start sothing is either in the past or now."
Dumbledore looked kindly at the outstanding-featured, composed little fellow before him. He was reminded of an old acquaintance. Very similar.
However, Ethan didn't have an obsessive desire for power and authority. He was just a pure child who loved art...
"By the way, Headmaster Dumbledore. I want sothing else too." Ethan looked up and asked sincerely: "Could you give the Philosopher's Stone? I want greater power."
Dumbledore's originally relaxed and gentle smile froze.
The next day.
"Five thousand Galleons?!" Ron's pumpkin juice flowed down like a waterfall.
He stared wide-eyed in disbelief at Ethan, who casually ntioned "I sold one painting for five thousand Galleons." He felt the other had beco a higher species he couldn't look directly at.
Harry pushed his glasses and delivered the finishing blow: "And that's just for usage rights. Accurately speaking, it's Headmaster Dumbledore's appreciation and support for Ethan."
Hermione thought: Indeed part of the talent training program... How could she join this great plan?
The Weasley twins chid in unison: "Little Ronnie, go hug Ethan's thigh!" "Use both hands..." "Kneel down and hug..."
Ron's face flushed as he exploded: "Shut up!"
"Shh!" The Weasley twins suddenly whispered, excitedly crouching to hide, "He's coming!"
The "he" here referred to Professor Quirrell. Professor Quirrell was seen hurrying through the snow. Thin as paper, sallow and emaciated, as if the Defense Against the Dark Arts position had drained all his vitality.
However, his face now radiated barely contained wild joy. As if sothing he'd been waiting for had finally arrived.
Until... "Bang!"
The Weasley twins threw a snowball, hitting Professor Quirrell's turban-wrapped head, laughing heartily.
Ethan kindly handed them another snowball.
"Thanks, mate!" The Weasley twins took it and threw it at Quirrell's head with Quidditch Beater-level skill.
"Bang!" A dull sound, and Quirrell fell backward directly. Dark red liquid gradually seeped from his turban.
The Weasley twins stared in shock. Looking down, they opened the snowball Ethan had given them... inside was a palm-sized hard stone.
Turning their heads, they saw Ethan concentrating on wrapping stones in snow like a chef making pastries.
The Weasley twins looked at him in horror: "Why didn't you stop Ethan?! You just watched from the side?"
Harry stamred in confusion: "I... I thought you'd already discussed it..."
Hermione said profoundly: "Ethan must have his reasons for doing this."
Ron nodded vigorously beside her.
The Weasley twins thought despairingly: "..." There's no saving them. Let Mom restart their accounts.
However, unexpectedly, Quirrell didn't pursue the matter. After struggling to get up from the ground, he rely gave them a dark look before quickly running away.
Ethan stood up, patting his snowy gloves. Watching Quirrell's hurried retreating figure, he slowly spoke: "Do you know? Headmaster Dumbledore isn't here today. He was called to the Ministry by a letter."
Turning his head, under the suddenly frowning, thoughtful Hermione's gaze and the others' confused looks, he raised the corners of his mouth: "This ans... tonight, we can have a very interesting adventure."
That evening, in the fourth-floor restricted area, a harp played automatically while the three-headed dog Fluffy slept soundly nearby.
Quirrell bypassed the unconscious troll (the protective obstacle he'd set himself) and walked leisurely forward. His expression was cold and alert, completely unlike his usual stuttering appearance.
"Such simple protection, no difficulty at all... Next is just that annoying black bat's test... Master, I'll soon obtain the Philosopher's Stone for you! Though, when did this place get a mural..."
Quirrell looked at the magnificent ancient city mural, instinctively feeling dread and resentnt.
"Ethan Vincent... that damned brat... Once I get the Stone and revive Master, I'll make you kneel and beg to kill you!"
Quirrell imrsed himself in beautiful fantasies, unable to suppress a wide grin. But then he discovered that the physical door that originally led to the next room had beco a painted door.
"What the hell?" Quirrell frowned, the overly familiar art style making cold sweat appear on his forehead.
He tentatively reached out to push. A line of text appeared:
The door cannot be opened from this side.
Quirrell stared in confusion: "???"
The next second... "Ah!" He cried out as he was sucked into the mural!
After a pungent paint sll, he fell onto cold, hard stone flooring. Looking up, a massive iron gate with spikes stood overhead like a guillotine. Beyond the iron gate, the dark and cold interior emitted a damp, putrid sll. Like a long-abandoned cesspit full of filth.
Quirrell looked down in confusion at the stone bricks before him, where a line of text was written:
Welco to Sen Castle
The Philosopher's Stone lies ahead
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