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Ti.

Four forty in the afternoon.

It has been nearly a quarter of an hour since El entered that classroom.

He has not co out.

The snow was getting heavier.

Everyone’s patience was being worn thin.

All kinds of suspicions had already spread among the crowd.

But most voices shared a common sentint, naly, Ethan probably hadn’t created anything impressive.

Otherwise, why hadn’t El co out?

Only a few people still believed there wasn’t a problem with Ethan.

Bob was naturally one of them.

By now, he almost worshipped Ethan as a god, believing he could succeed no matter what Ethan did.

Sofia was another who was still sowhat concerned.

Even though she also truly believed Ethan was very talented, ti as the the...and such a short ti to create sothing, what could possibly be achieved?

"Principal, why don’t I go and take a look?"

Ramon spoke up at this mont.

Loren was just about to agree when he saw El stagger, step by step, coming from the direction of the classroom, carrying an easel.

But anyone could see that he had the look of utter despair.

Ethan’s painting, likely...

"Where’s Ethan?"

Seeing El approach the crowd but still no sign of Ethan, Ramon spoke again.

"He...left."

El opened his mouth with great difficulty, his throat seemingly stuck together.

He himself didn’t even know how he managed to walk out of there; he even considered running away himself.

But ultimately, he couldn’t bear to part with all of it; maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance?

"Left? I think he ran away, didn’t he? I knew it, this person has a bad character, sure enough..."

Ramon almost burst out laughing when he heard the answer.

He had already won.

This business, surely done well.

As soon as he finished speaking, the whole scene was already in an uproar.

The anticipated show they had waited so long for turned out to be a farce in the end.

Truly a waste of ti.

Quite a few people were already planning to leave.

El mustered up the courage and looked at Loren and Pupol, saying, "Why don’t we take a look at his work first? He left behind the painting; maybe there was an ergency, and he had to leave."

Hearing this, the crowd quieted down a bit.

Loren glanced at Pupol.

Pupol nodded, "Then let’s take a look, since we’re here."

Pupol was indeed a fairly amicable person.

With his nod, El took a deep breath, then straightened the easel in his hand, unveiling the painting to everyone’s eyes.

The mont they saw the painting, everyone was stunned.

If that could even be called a painting...

The canvas was covered in a series of incomprehensible lines, seemingly chaotic at first glance, making it impossible to tell what was depicted.

It completely looked like random scribbles, genuine graffiti.

Even after a closer look...

Well, it still looked like random scribbles.

Is this the work of that student nad Ethan?

No wonder he escaped beforehand.

Can this even be called a painting?

Ramon couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

The rest of those present were also trying to stifle their laughter.

Now it could be confird, this was indeed a farce.

Winster University really lost face this ti.

They invited such a famous master, only to end up testing a dunce of a student.

Just when everyone was expecting Pupol to fly into a rage and bring this farce to an end...

The great painter quickly stepped up to the canvas, reaching out with his hand, treating it with utmost care as if afraid of damaging sothing, gently caressing the lines.

"Master..."

El couldn’t help but speak.

Pupol, however, extended a finger to stop him: "Shh..."

As if afraid of disturbing sothing.

This scene slowly quieted everyone present; they were all at a loss.

What was going on with the master?

"Can’t you all feel it? Ti is frozen up there, isn’t it?"

Pupol finally turned around, once again facing the crowd with the canvas, pointing with just one finger at those lines: "Look at these lines, they’re astonishing, I feel ti flowing in my hands..."

As he spoke, he closed his eyes, completely imrsed.

Others were still confused, but among them, so with a decent level of artistry, such as teachers from Winster University’s art school, and artists from the Winster art community, gradually began to sense sothing different in the graffiti.

Upon closer inspection, it was indeed not random scribbles; the lines actually ford a clock, or perhaps so kind of running monster.

This painting was indeed unfinished, rely a rudintary form.

Yet this rudint was already highly artistic.

Its style surprisingly closely resembled Pupol’s, incredibly surrealistic.

No wonder Pupol was so enamored.

Could that student nad Ethan actually be a genius?

Why didn’t he finish it?

"What’s that student’s na? Ethan? Quickly bring him back, imdiately bring him back, I want to see him complete this work, I have a premonition, this will be a great work! Hurry, hurry!"

Pupol’s voice grew louder, eventually almost a roar.

El trembled from the shouting, then felt overwhelming joy, instantly dashing off to find him.

In the midst of this, Ramon’s face darkened further, unable to comprehend how that heap of garbage-like stuff could be a great work.

This damned Pupol, what on earth is he blabbering about?

Indeed, artists are all damned.

"Mr. Pupol, might you have made a mistake? This piece here..."

He still wanted to reverse the situation.

Pupol cut him off sharply: "Shut up! Who are you? Are you questioning my artistic ability?"

"I’m Ramon, we just talked, I an no offense, I just..."

"Ramon? Are you a painter? Do you know how to paint?"

"No..."

"Then shut up, you have no right to judge this work."

The previously casual and humorous Pupol was now serious and stern, treating Ethan’s painting as a treasure, allowing no desecration.

Ramon’s face grew increasingly ghastly from the scolding, and he could only remain silent.

But soon he chuckled coldly to himself, well, even if that boy did create a masterpiece, he’s finished now, so he can never produce another great work.

That thing is just a discarded draft.

Thinking of this, Ramon’s mood lifted again.

But just then, El ca jogging back, smiling, he told Pupol, "Master, I just got through to Ethan’s ho on the phone, he just arrived ho, said there was indeed an ergency so he left without telling anyone, but he said he can finish the work anyti."

"Good, good, good, tell him to co, no, I will go visit him myself, Ethan, Ethan, he’s so interesting, I never expected to find such talent in Winster!"

Pupol was instantly delighted, loudly praising Ethan.

And in the crowd, Ramon felt a chill running through him.

What on earth?!

Why, why is Ethan still all right?

You are reading Instigator and Protector of Violence Chapter 60: [Unfinished Masterpiece] on novel69. Use the chapter navigation above or below to continue reading the latest translated chapters.
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