"You in the painting?" Chen Ge also leaned over. He had seen all the thirteen paintings in the studio, and he still had some impressions of the fourth painting: "You painted this painting?"
Zhou Tu did not speak, his soul seemed to be sucked into the painting, his eyes fixed on the canvas.
The fourth oil painting was painted in this oil painting room.
In the upper part, thirteen painters were sitting on chairs to paint. The lower part of the painting was blood red. Thirteen painters died tragically on their seats in different ways of dying.
It should be noted that in the upper part of the painting, what the painters painted on the drawing board is exactly what they looked like when they died tragically.
These painters already knew their fate, but they did not choose to change, but recorded everything completely.
When Chen Ge came to the oil painting room for the first time, he stayed beside this painting for a long time. He did not expect this painting to be created by Zhou Tu.
If you look closely, you can see that the fourth painter in the painting looks very similar to Zhou Tu.
"Other paintings are trying their best to express an upside-down world, but this painting is 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?"
Of the thirteen painters, Zhou Tu came in fourth. He was not the oldest, but he had the most unique perspective.
Unlike the appearance of other people when they woke up from memory, Zhou Tu was standing beside the easel, nothing had changed on him, but the atmosphere in the painting room was changing subtly.
The feeling is indescribable, as if the eyes of the figures in the painting are all opened, and they are being watched by one after another.
"Why am I suddenly a little cold?" Wang Yicheng shrank his neck and hid behind Zhang Ju. He looked around blankly, with a hint of panic in his eyes.
"Zhou Tu?" Zhang Ju also had a very bad feeling, and he tapped Zhou Tu's shoulder.
The eyelashes blinked, Zhou Tu's body seemed to freeze, his eyes reflected the entire studio, and there was not a trace of blood on his face.
"Am I dead?"
A hoarse voice squeezed out of his lips, and at the same time he spoke, the fourth painter in the scroll suddenly moved.
The painter who was sitting in the chair suddenly threw away the paintbrush in his hand, grabbed his neck with both hands, and kept kicking with his legs, as if he was strangled by an invisible rope.
His eyeballs bulged out, and he was about to squeeze out of his sockets. He struggled desperately, but his body left the seat little by little.
His head was bloodshot, and his expression was distorted, gradually becoming the same as himself in the painting.
What's even more terrifying is that in the lower part of the oil painting, Zhou Tu, who was in a blood-red world, slowly showed a smile on his face.
"Zhou Tu! Your neck!" Wang Yicheng pointed at Zhou Tu's neck and shouted loudly.
Zhou Tu, who was standing outside the oil painting, was slowly becoming the same as himself in the oil painting. A black and purple mark appeared on his neck. As time passed, the color of the mark continued to deepen.
The neck became deformed, and there was a ticking sound in the ear.
Looking at the voice, Chen Ge found that in the lower half of the fourth oil painting, Zhou Tu, who was locked up in a blood-red world and died tragically, somehow came to life.
He was lying under the canvas covered in blood, his face pressed against the canvas, his mouth split open, and the blood was running down his face.
With raised eyes, across the canvas, he stared straight at Zhou Tu standing outside the oil painting. It seemed to climb out of the oil painting and drag the Zhou Tu outside the painting into it!
"Mr. Bai, should we take Zhou Tu to leave?"
The ticking sound gradually increased, coming from all directions of the classroom!
Turning their heads to look, several members of the Supernatural Research Society found that all the portraits in the entire oil painting room were abnormal.
The people in the picture are lying on the frame, and they all seem to be ready to come out!
"This didn't happen when I came with the shadow last time. Could it be because they sensed Zhou Tu?"
Facts once again proved that Zhou Tu was unusual. Chen Ge signaled other members of the community to approach Zhou Tu, and if there was a problem, he immediately forced Zhou Tu to leave.
The blood on the oil painting became bright, red mist escaped, and an increasingly strong bloody smell began to appear.
"The situation is not very good!" Zhang Ju and Zhu Long stood beside Zhou Tu, and they found that the blood mist in the room began to gather towards Zhou Tu, like a giant cannibal flower with its mouth open.
"These things want to enter Zhou Tu's body!"
The blood mist avoided the others and was attached to Zhou Tu, gathering more and more.
"Mr. Bai! Can't wait any longer! Let's leave quickly!" In order to prevent Zhou Tu from being completely swallowed by the blood mist, Zhu Long reached out and grabbed Zhou Tu's arm in a hurry.
He had good intentions and wanted to drag Zhou Tu out of the center of the blood mist, but who knew that as soon as he exerted force, the blood mist instantly condensed into a rope with a thick wrist and strangled Zhou Tu's neck, hanging him on the the center of the house.
"Weekly Chart!"
His neck was entangled with bloodshot condensed ropes, Zhou Tu swayed in the house like a pendulum, and his appearance at this time was exactly the same as himself in the painting.
He had already seen his own death, and had completely recorded the appearance of his tragic death.
"I draw with my own hands what I look like when I die, I watch myself hanged, I watch myself out of breath..."
The atmosphere in the oil painting room became even more depressing, and more and more blood splattered from the oil painting. The people in the painting looked at Zhou Tu, who was hanged in the center of the room, and all fell into a carnival.
"Hanging is different from other methods of death. It is not like piercing the heart with a knife. After a short period of numbness, the body seems to be burned by fire, and the pain spreads from the wound to the whole body. This is a very gentle way of dying. It's drained, the oxygen decreases a little bit, the despair increases a little bit, and you can clearly feel the process of your own death."
The male voice came from a certain direction in the room, as if from the paintings on the wall, or from the gap between the floor and the wall.
Chen Ge couldn't determine the location of the voice, but he could tell that the person who spoke in the oil painting room at this time was the same person who spoke in the toilet on the top floor of the teaching building.
"Don't be afraid of death. I know you will come back. No matter how many times you escape, you are still one of the members here."
The voice seemed to be speaking to Zhou Tu, and could not capture the position of the owner of the voice. If you listened carefully, you would even find that the voice seemed to come from Zhou Tu's own mouth.
"Don't resist, your mission has been completed, sit quietly in your seat and wait for the last painter to enter."
The blood mist shrouded Zhou Tu, his appearance became more and more terrifying, and his body lost weight at a speed visible to the naked eye.
When everyone was focusing on Zhou Tu, a fourteenth easel appeared in the painting room at some point.
The escaping blood mist floated to the fourteenth easel, leaving a faint blood red on the canvas as smooth as human skin. From a distance, it looked like a blood-stained skirt.