"You in the painting?" Chen Ge also came closer. He had seen all thirteen paintings in the studio, and he still had some impression of the fourth painting: "Did you paint this painting?"
Zhou Tu didn't speak. His soul seemed to be sucked into the painting, his eyes fixed on the canvas.
The fourth oil painting is about this oil painting studio.
In the upper part, thirteen painters were sitting on chairs painting. The lower part of the painting was red. The thirteen painters died tragically on their seats in different ways.
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 studio for the first time, he stayed beside this painting for a long time. He did not expect that this painting would be created by Zhou Tu.
If you look closely, you can see that the painter sitting fourth in the painting looks very similar to Zhou Tu.
"Other paintings are trying their best to express the upside-down world. Only this painting depicts the artist 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?"
Among the thirteen painters, Zhou Tu is ranked fourth. He is not the oldest, but he has the most unique perspective.
Unlike other people's appearance when their memories came back to life, Zhou Tu stood blankly next to the easel. Nothing had changed on him, but the atmosphere in the painting room was undergoing subtle changes.
The feeling is indescribable, as if the figures in the painting have all opened their eyes, and they are being watched by gazes 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 trace of panic in his eyes.
"Zhou Tu?" Zhang Ju also had a bad feeling, and he patted Zhou Tu on the shoulder.
His eyelashes fluttered, and Zhou Tu's body seemed to be frozen. His eyes reflected the entire studio, and there was no trace of blood on his face.
"Am I already dead?"
A hoarse voice came out of his lips. As he spoke, the fourth painter in the scroll suddenly moved.
The painter who was sitting on the chair suddenly threw away the paintbrush in his hand, grabbed his neck with both hands, and kicked his legs continuously, as if his neck was being strangled by an invisible rope.
His eyeballs were bulging out and about to squeeze out of their sockets. He struggled desperately, but his body left the seat little by little.
His head was filled with blood and his expression was distorted, gradually becoming like himself in the painting.
What is even more terrifying is that in the lower half of the oil painting, Zhou Tu, who is in a blood-red world, slowly smiles on his face.
"Zhou Tu! Your neck!" Wang Yicheng pointed at Zhou Tu's neck and shouted loudly.
Standing outside the oil painting, Zhou Tu's body was slowly becoming like his own in the oil painting. A black-purple mark appeared on his neck. As time went by, the color of the mark continued to deepen.
The neck became deformed, and there was a ticking sound in the ears.
Looking for the sound, Chen Ge discovered that in the lower half of the fourth oil painting, Zhou Tu, who was imprisoned in the blood-red world and died miserably, unexpectedly came back to life at some point.
He was covered in blood and lying under the canvas, his face pressed tightly against the canvas, his mouth was split, and blood was flowing down his face.
The bulging eyeballs stared directly at Zhou Tu standing outside the oil painting across the canvas. It seemed to be crawling out of the oil painting and dragging Zhou Tu inside the painting!
"Teacher Bai, should we take Zhou Tu away?"
The ticking sound gradually increased and came from all directions in the classroom!
Turning around to look, several members of the Supernatural Research Society discovered that all the portraits in the entire oil painting room were abnormal.
The people in the painting are lying on the frame, as if they are all ready to come out!
"This didn't happen last time when Shadow and I came here. Is it because they sensed Zhou Tu?"
Facts once again proved that Zhou Tu was unusual. Chen Ge signaled other club members to get closer to Zhou Tu. If there was a problem, he would immediately force Zhou Tu to leave.
The blood color on the oil painting became brighter, red mist escaped, and an increasingly strong smell of blood began to appear.
"The situation is not good!" Zhang Ju and Zhu Long stood beside Zhou Tu. They noticed that the blood mist in the room began to converge towards Zhou Tu, like a giant man-eating flower with its mouth open.
"These things want to enter Zhou Tu's body!"
The blood mist avoided other people and adsorbed on Zhou Tu, gathering more and more.
"Teacher Bai! We 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 wrist-thick rope and strangled Zhou Tu's neck, hanging him on the
Right in the center of the room.
"Zhou Tu!"
His neck was entangled with blood-streaked condensed ropes, and Zhou Tu was swinging in the room like a pendulum. He looked exactly like himself in the painting.
He had seen his own death and completely recorded his tragic death.
"I drew with my own hands how I would look like when I died. I watched myself being hanged, watching myself gasping for breath..."
The atmosphere in the oil painting room became even more depressing. More and more blood flowed out of the oil painting. The people in the painting fell into a carnival when they looked at Zhou Tu who was hanged in the center of the room.
"Hanging is different from other ways of death. It is not like stabbing the heart with a knife. After a short period of numbness, the body seems to be burned by fire, and the painful feeling spreads from the wound to the whole body. This is a very gentle way of death. The strength is exhausted.
Drain it, the oxygen will decrease little by little, the despair will increase little by little, 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 gaps between the floor and the wall.
Chen Ge couldn't determine the location of the voice, but he could tell that the person speaking in the oil painting studio at this time was the same person speaking 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 will still be a member of this place."
The voice seemed to be speaking to Zhou Tu, and the location of the owner of the voice could not be captured at all. 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."
Blood mist enveloped Zhou Tu, and his appearance became more and more terrifying, and his figure lost weight at a speed visible to the naked eye.
While everyone was focusing on Zhou Tu, a fourteenth easel appeared in the oil painting room at some point.
The dissipated blood mist drifted to the fourteenth easel, leaving a faint blood red color on the canvas as smooth as human skin, which looked like a skirt dyed with blood from a distance.