"The you in the painting?" Chen Ge leaned over. He had seen all thirteen paintings in the art room, and he had some impression of the fourth painting. "Was this painted by you?"
Zhou Tu did not speak. His soul seemed to be sucked into the painting, and his eyes were glued to the canvas.
The fourth painting was the painting of this art room.
The upper half showed the thirteen painters sitting on the chairs, painting, and the lower half of the painting was a sea of blood. The thirteen painters had died in different ways, and they had died on their chairs.
It was worth noting that in the upper half of the painting, the painters had painted how they had died.
These painters already knew what had happened to them, but they did not choose to change it. Instead, they recorded everything perfectly.
When Chen Ge first came to the art room, he had stayed beside this painting for a long time. He did not expect this painting to be painted by Zhou Tu.
Upon closer inspection, one would notice that the fourth artist in the painting looked very similar to Zhou Tu.
"The other paintings are trying their best to depict the inverted world, but this painting depicts the painter himself." Chen Ge did not disturb Zhou Tu. His eyes moved between the painting and Zhou Tu. "What has Zhou Tu experienced? Why are his paintings so different from the others? "
Of the thirteen painters, Zhou Tu was the fourth. He was not the most experienced, but he had the most unique perspective.
Different from how he looked when the others woke up, Zhou Tu stood blankly next to the easel. There was no change to his body, but the atmosphere in the art room was changing subtly.
The feeling was indescribable. It was like all the people in the painting had opened their eyes, and they were being watched by many eyes.
"Why do I suddenly feel cold?" Wang Yicheng shrunk his neck and hid behind Zhang Ju. He looked around blankly, and there was a trace of fear in his eyes.
"Zhou Tu?" Zhang Ju also had a bad feeling. He patted Zhou Tu's shoulder lightly.
His eyelashes fluttered, and Zhou Tu's body seemed to have frozen. His eyes reflected the whole art room, and there was no blood on his face.
"Am I already dead?"
A hoarse voice squeezed out from his lips. As he spoke, the fourth painter on the scroll suddenly moved.
The painter, who was sitting on the chair, suddenly dropped the paintbrush in his hand and grabbed his neck with both hands. His legs kept kicking as if there was an invisible rope around his neck.
His eyeballs were about to pop out of his eye sockets. He struggled with all his might, but his body slowly left the seat.
His head was filled with blood, and his expression was distorted. Gradually, he became like himself in the painting.
What was even more terrifying was that in the lower half of the oil painting, Zhou Tu, who was in the blood-red world, slowly revealed a smile.
"Zhou Tu! Your neck! "Wang Yicheng pointed at Zhou Tu's neck and shouted.
Standing outside the oil painting, Zhou Tu's body was slowly becoming the same as the one in the oil painting. A purplish black mark appeared on his neck, and as time passed, the color of the mark continued to deepen.
His neck became deformed, and there was a dripping sound in his ears.
Following the sound, Chen Ge realized that in the lower half of the fourth oil painting, Zhou Tu, who had died a horrible death inside the red world, had somehow come back to life.
He was covered in blood, and he was lying under the canvas. His face was pressed tightly against the canvas, and his lips were split open. Blood was dripping down his face.
The bulging eyeballs stared at Zhou Tu, who was standing outside the oil painting, through the canvas. It looked like it was going to crawl out of the painting and drag Zhou Tu into it!
"Mr. Bai, should we take Zhou Tu and leave?"
The sound of dripping increased, and it came from all corners of the classroom!
Turning to look, the few members from the supernatural phenomenon research club realized that all the people in the painting room were acting strangely.
The people inside the paintings were leaning against the frame, and they all looked like they were ready to crawl out!
"Last time when I came here with the shadow, this didn't happen. Is it because they sensed Zhou Tu?"
Reality once again proved that Zhou Tu was different. Chen Ge signaled for the other members to get closer to Zhou Tu. If there was a problem, they were to forcibly take Zhou Tu away.
The blood on the oil painting became brighter, and a red mist leaked out. The smell of blood thickened.
"This doesn't look good!" Zhang Ju and Zhu Long stood next to Zhou Tu. They realized that the blood mist in the room had started to gather toward Zhou Tu like a man-eating flower with its mouth open.
"These things are trying to enter Zhou Tu's body!"
The blood mist avoided the others and stuck to Zhou Tu's body, gathering more and more.
"Mr. Bai! We can't wait any longer! We need to leave now! "To prevent Zhou Tu from being consumed by the blood mist, Zhu Long reached out to grab Zhou Tu's arm in a hurry.
He had good intentions, wanting to drag Zhou Tu out from the center of the blood mist, but who knew that the moment he exerted force, the blood mist would instantly condense into a rope as thick as a wrist, wrapping around Zhou Tu's neck and hanging him in the center of the room.
"Zhou Tu!"
With the rope formed from blood vessels around his neck, Zhou Tu swayed in the room like a pendulum. He looked exactly like himself in the painting.
He had already seen his own death and had completely recorded the scene of his tragic death.
"I painted my own death with my own hands. I watched myself being hung to death, watched myself lose my breath …"
The atmosphere in the room became more oppressive. More blood seeped out from the painting. The people in the painting looked at Zhou Tu, who was hanging in the middle of the room, and they all started to celebrate.
"Hanging is different from other ways of dying. It's not like stabbing the heart with a knife. After a short period of numbness, the body will feel like it's being burned, and the pain will spread from the wound. This is a very gentle way of dying. The energy will be drained, the oxygen will slowly decrease, and the despair will slowly increase. You can feel the process of your own death very clearly. "
The male voice came from a corner of the room. It sounded like it was coming from the painting on the wall or from the gap between the wall and the floor.
Chen Ge could not tell where the voice came from, but he could tell that the person who spoke in the art room was the same person who had spoken in the toilet on the top floor of the education block.
"There is no need to fear death. I know you will return. No matter how many times you escape, you will always be a member of this place."
The voice seemed to be talking to Zhou Tu, but it was impossible to tell where the owner of the voice came from. If one listened closely, they would realize that the voice was coming from Zhou Tu's own lips.
"Do not resist. Your mission has been completed. Sit quietly in your seat and wait for the last painter to enter the room."
The blood mist swallowed Zhou Tu, and his appearance became scarier. His body thinned at a visible rate.
While everyone's attention was on Zhou Tu, a fourteenth easel had appeared in the oil painting room without anyone noticing.
The blood mist drifted to the fourteenth easel, and it left a faded red on the canvas that was as smooth as human skin. From afar, it looked like a dress dyed with blood.
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