Trigger the main quest: Scarlet Festival!
The first ring: The owner of the "Time Amber" gallery in Amber City, Oil Paint Jazz Beckman, planned a grand bloody painting exhibition. He planned to use the A-level weird thing - the Bone Gallery to capture the spirits of the "circus" leader, the shelter commissioner Roderick, and many other wild extraordinary people, and turn all the guests present into oil paintings, strengthen the Bone Gallery, and then flee far away...
Just as he betrayed the "Society for History and Ritual" and took the risk to dig up the Red Apple Church's tomb, he stole the strange objects transformed from the remains of Archbishop Monroe and designed to frame the members of the association, using all means and being ruthless.
But fate is a circle. Bishop Newman's self-sacrifice triggered the trap of the Bone Gallery in advance, attracting a terrifying existence...
The destruction of Amber City is just a matter of thought.
Go to the scene and stop it from happening.
Mission rewards: 50,000 experience points, 100 gold pounds, 10 regional fame points, 10 special attribute points and 1 blessing point.
"The main plot... is advanced?! Is this Lord Grease Paint a lunatic?"
Chen Lun's face darkened.
Things have changed at the gallery!
My previous divination was wrong. Either my current sequence level was insufficient, or there was a power of a higher sequence that distorted my prediction and led to a misjudgment.
But no matter what the situation is, I must leave immediately.
boom!
He spread his black wings, flew into the air, and disappeared into the sky leaving a black shadow.
Outside the churchyard.
The noise here was so loud that it attracted the attention of the surrounding residents, and they all ran here.
The five members of Polaris hid in the crowd and first received a notification that the first stage of the mission was completed. Before they had time to be happy, they saw Mr. Jack flying away in a hurry.
Their intuition told them that perhaps the matter was not over.
"—Follow him! Something big is definitely going to happen!"
Polaris sent a short message.
The five players pushed through the crowd and ran wildly in the direction where Chen Lun flew away.
*
*
*
gallery.
The situation was as tense as a crossbow.
Seven or eight men and women in costumes were controlling the guests, and a man in a tuxedo was marking prices for the guests. Only a few people noticed that Beckman, who was standing at the door, suddenly made a strange move.
An easel slowly emerged from the pool of blood that oozed out of thin air at his feet.
Beckmann calmly picked up the paintbrush, faced the guests, and began to paint. The man in the tuxedo noticed something and suddenly turned around to glance at Beckmann.
"Sir Greasepaint, what are you doing?"
Tuxedo asked.
"Oh, this scene really inspires me."
Beckmann was painting with a smile on his face.
The man in the tuxedo stared at him for a few seconds, then turned his eyes to the old man in costume. The old man instantly understood what the captain meant, holding the bloody dagger, he walked towards Beckman to see what he was doing.
Beckman was indifferent to this, and seemed not to care about the other party's inspection at all. But when the old man in costume walked up to him, he was suddenly startled and his eyes shrank slightly.
Because the old man suddenly saw that on the canvas was the back of the team leader.
Beckmann is painting this specifically for the group leader...
"Sir Greasepaint, you...?"
The old man in costume opened his mouth and was about to ask a question.
boom!!
The door suddenly exploded from the outside.
A black light wave shot straight at him. The dark color distorted the light, attracting attention, and seemed to contain the extraordinary power of death. The light wave was extremely fast and instantly hit the old man in the costume and passed through his body.
Buzz!
The old man's face froze, and he stood still. There was no visible damage on his body, but he had actually suffered a severe blow at the soul level.
"Ahem! Pfft!"
He spat out a mouthful of blood, fell on his back, and fell to the ground.
Everyone present was shocked to see a group of investigators in uniforms rushing in from outside. Even the investigators lurking among the guests took out their flintlock rifles and confronted the men and women in costumes.
"Asylum... Do you think I have no defenses against you?"
The man in the tuxedo said calmly.
Roderick and Mona walked slowly into the gallery, and the guests dared not breathe.
"Unless you don't care about the life and death of these high-society bigwigs, if they dare to act rashly, I will give the order and they will all die."
Tuxedo said.
"Oh, really?"
Roderick looked at him coldly.
The next moment.
Beckman waved his hand, and a shadow of a gallery appeared out of thin air in front of him.
Wow…
Oil paintings passed by him one after another, like a revolving lantern. The last painting stopped, revealing a strange eye.
Beckmann lightly touched the painting with his brush, and the child in the painting opened his eyelids, revealing deep eyes in the three primary colors.
With a grunt, it glanced at all the "circus" members present.
Buzz!!
Amid the strange fluctuations, the seven or eight costumed men and women were seen shaking all over as if struck by lightning, with blood flowing from all seven orifices. The short knives in their hands fell to the ground with a clang, and then they fell down, clutching their left chests tightly.
"One glance can confuse the heart... Eight Sequence 9 transcendents were killed at the same time. This is the power of the Sequence in the Star Faction. No wonder you were able to confuse Countess Bradley."
The man in the tuxedo narrowed his eyes and commented calmly.
It seemed that those who had just died were not his men, but a group of strangers.
"Sir Greasepaint, if you team up with the shelter to deal with me, nothing good will happen."
"Thank you for your concern, Master. Compared to my own safety, I care more about whether I can paint you well."
Beckmann continued to smile and picked up his paintbrush to continue composing the picture.
The man in the tuxedo lowered his head and glanced at his own palms. He realized that his spirituality was slowly fading away, floating faintly towards Beckmann's painting.
"You want to steal my power... Ridiculous!"
There was a cold gleam in his eyes.
The shadow under his feet moved from bottom to top, covering his entire body, and then he disappeared like ink.
The next second, he emerged from the shadows behind Beckman, put his five fingers together, and stabbed him in the back.
"Quiet."
Roderick stretched out five fingers, and black light flashed.
The tuxedo man's movements froze for a moment.
Boom boom boom…!!
The investigators on the scene raised their flintlock rifles and fired at him.
With a few muffled thuds, the lead bullets hit him but went into the shadows. The man in the tuxedo snorted coldly and went back into the shadows.
He was lost from the sight of everyone present.
"Sir Oil Paint, you have ruined our plan. Even if you escape to the ends of the earth, you will be hunted down to death..."
The voice of the man in the tuxedo echoed in the gallery.
Roderick frowned slightly, and Mona beside him whispered:
"The leader of this 'circus' is a conspiracy faction Sequence 7 - Assassin. He hides in the shadows and comes and goes without a trace. If he wants to escape, there is nothing we can do..."
Beckman chuckled.
He summoned the gallery again, and a row of paintings passed by, finally stopping at that one—
"The Hammer" Perry's portrait, "The Unyielding."
"He can't get away."