"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 didn't speak, his soul seemed to be sucked into the painting, his eyes glued to the canvas.

The fourth oil painting is painted in this oil painting studio.

In the upper part, thirteen painters sit on chairs and paint, and the lower part of the painting is blood-red, and thirteen painters die tragically in their seats in different ways.

It should be noted that in the upper part of the painting, the paintings painted by the painters on the drawing board, are exactly what they died in a tragic way.

These painters already knew what happened to them, but instead of choosing to change, they recorded everything completely.

When Chen Ge first came to the oil painting studio, he stayed next to this painting for a long time, he didn't expect that this painting would be created by Zhou Tu.

If you look closely, you can see that the painter sitting in the fourth place in the painting is very similar in appearance to Zhou Tu.

"All other paintings are trying to represent the upside-down world, but this one is the painter himself." Chen Ge didn't bother Zhou Tu, his gaze moved between the painting and Zhou Tu: "What did Zhou Tu go through? Why are his paintings so different? ”

Of the thirteen painters, Zhou Tu is ranked fourth, he is not the oldest, but he has the most unique perspective.

Unlike the way others woke up from their memories, Zhou Tu stood next to the easel, his body did not change in any way, but the atmosphere in the painting room was changing subtly.

The feeling is indescribable, as if the figures in the painting have all their eyes open, and they are being stared at.

"Why am I suddenly a little cold?" Wang Yicheng shrunk his neck and hid behind Zhang Ju, he looked around blankly, with a hint of horror in his eyes.

"Zhoutu?" Zhang Ju also had a very bad feeling, and he patted Zhou Tu's shoulder.

His eyelashes blinked, Zhou Tu's body seemed to freeze, his eyes reflected the entire studio, and there was no trace of blood on his face.

"Am I dead?"

A hoarse voice squeezed out of his lips, and as he spoke, the painter in fourth place in the scroll suddenly moved.

The painter, who was originally sitting in a chair, suddenly threw away the paintbrush in his hand, grabbed his neck with both hands, and kept kicking his legs, as if he was strangled by an invisible rope.

His eyeballs bulged outward, about to squeeze out of his sockets, and he struggled desperately, but his body left the seat little by little.

His head was bloodshot, his expression distorted, and he gradually became the same as himself in the painting.

What's even more terrifying is that in the second half of the oil painting, Zhou Tu, who is in a blood-red world, slowly shows a smile on his face at this time.

"Weekly Chart! Your neck! Wang Yicheng pointed to Zhou Tu's neck and shouted loudly.

Standing outside the oil painting, Zhou Tu's body is slowly becoming the same as himself in the oil painting, and a black-purple mark appears on his neck, and the color of the mark continues to deepen as time goes by.

His neck became deformed, and there was a ticking sound in his ears.

Looking for the voice, Chen Ge found that in the lower part of the fourth oil painting, Zhou Tu, who was locked up in the blood-red world and died tragically, came back to life at some point.

He was lying on his stomach under the canvas covered in blood, his face pressed against the canvas, his mouth cracked, and blood was running down his face.

The bulging eyeballs, through the canvas, stared directly at the Zhou Tu standing outside the oil painting, as if it was about to climb out of the oil painting and drag the Zhou Tu outside the painting into it!

"Teacher Bai, should we take Zhou Tu away?"

The sound of ticking gradually increased, coming from all directions of the classroom!

Turning their heads, several members of the Occult Research Society noticed that all the portraits in the entire painting room were abnormal.

The people in the painting are lying on the frame, and they all seem to be ready to come out!

"This didn't happen the last time I came with the shadows, could it be because they sensed Zhou Tu?"

The facts once again proved that Zhou Tu was unusual, and Chen Ge motioned to the other members of the community to approach Zhou Tu, and once there was a problem, he immediately forcibly left with Zhou Tu.

The blood on the oil painting became vivid, a red mist escaped, and the smell of blood began to appear more and more intense.

"It's not good!" Zhang Ju and Zhu Long stood beside Zhou Tu, and they found 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 the others and attached itself to Zhou Tu's body, gathering more and more.

"Teacher Bai! Can't wait any longer! Let's get out of here! 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 originally 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 his strength, the blood mist instantly condensed into a wrist-thick rope and strangled Zhou Tu's neck and hung him in the center of the room.

"Zhou Tu!"

His neck was wrapped in a bloodshot rope, and Zhou Tu swayed around the room like a pendulum, just like himself in the painting.

He had seen his own death, and he had recorded his tragic death in its entirety.

"I drew myself when I died, I watched myself hanged, I watched myself breathless......"

The atmosphere in the painting room became more depressing, and the blood stains flowing from the oil paintings became more and more, and 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 forms 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 sensation spreads from the wound to the whole body. This is a very gentle way to die, the strength is drained, the oxygen is reduced little by little, the despair is increased little by little, and you can clearly feel the process of your death. ”

The male voice came from a certain direction of the room, as if from the paintings on the walls, as if from the cracks between the floor and the wall skin.

Chen Ge couldn't determine the location of the voice, but he could tell that the person who was speaking in the painting studio at this time was the same person who was talking in the toilet on the top floor of the teaching building.

"Don't be afraid of death, I know you'll come back, no matter how many times you flee, you're one of those people after all."

That voice seemed to be talking to Zhou Tu, and it couldn't capture the location of the owner of the voice at all, and 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 is complete, sit quietly in your place, waiting for the last artist to enter."

A blood mist enveloped Zhou Tu, and his appearance became more and more terrifying, and his body lost weight at a rate visible to the naked eye.

While everyone was paying attention to Zhou Tu, there was a fourteenth easel in the painting room.

The escaping mist of blood drifted to the fourteenth easel, leaving a faint blood-red hue on the canvas as smooth as human skin, which looked like a blood-stained skirt from a distance.