Everyone is doing different things in different places, and if someone were to watch their horror movie in front of the projection at this time, they would see that each of them seemed to be at a fork in the road, and everyone was coming from afar. After many forks, they finally converged.

Of course, everyone's fate can be decided by the choices they have made when they come together. But at this point, they still don't know anything.

At this time, Ran Lei was still looking for the editorial department in the comic world, and Zhang Xiaotian and Tong Feifei were still hesitating how to find out the identity and purpose of the people in the room. And Luo Liu and Zhao Yule are still looking for a way to survive in a factory full of ghosts, so?

What about Yu Niantian? Is she with that bald uncle Wang Maorong? At this time, the camera also slowly pulled to them.

At this time, Yu Niantian's hands were trembling, and she had no way to guarantee the accuracy of her fingers.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! She was not as cold as before, but full of guilt and sent a script message to Wang Maorong.

In just a moment, her hand shook again, and the entire painting on the paper disappeared without a trace in an instant. Yes, if you make a mistake, it will be cleared cleanly.

Before this, Yu Niantian had already painted nearly half of it. It is like a landscape, but the composition is reminiscent of a Renaissance masterpiece, Dante's Divine Comedy, although it is a book composed of words, and the painting of this time does not seem to be classified. However, in the painting at this time, one side is heaven and the other side is hell.

A holy angel in the white heaven stretched out her arms and embraced the baby. Our Lady looked lovingly at the earth, and there was light everywhere, and beauty and spirit filled the whole world. Heaven, even if there is no sign, but two words will come to the mind of anyone who sees this painting for the first time. Heaven!

And on the other side, that is, the place where Yu Niantian is painting, the so-called hell!

Fire and magma were churning, and cauldrons were boiling and gurgling, and inside were boiling liquids. Although I can't see any movement, I think of that scene. And there are people lined up in some pots, and they jump into the pots one after another with expressionless faces, as if all the seven emotions and six desires have been withdrawn, and there is no fear or crying. And the moment I jumped into the pot, all my emotions suddenly came back, tangled, trembling and pouring into my brain.

Hell! Anyone who sees this painting can only think of one such word. Without him!

At this time, Yu Niantian was kneeling in front of the bench, there was only this one piece of furniture in this room, the only bench, and on it was a stack of thick white paper. A set of painting tools, except for the lack of paint.

Wang Maorong at this time... If I had to describe it, it would be like a pig hanging there in a slaughterhouse that had just been killed for a short time. His hands were tied behind his back, and his mouth was gagged. An iron hook was on his hand, and at the same time his body was already scarred, yes, Yu Niantian was using his blood as paint.

At the beginning of the script, she appeared in this room, and Wang Maorong was already chained here, and his equipment was not brought in. The script asked Yu Niantian to paint, and soon a template appeared on the table, as long as he drew it on it, but there was no red paint! If it doesn't start within half an hour, then the two people will be obliterated by the ghost who appears immediately. Ghosts without any restrictions, I'm afraid they can't last long even if they are psychic.

It is not difficult to speculate from the script that Wang Maorong's blood is to be used to paint, but can someone really bleed and paint with a knife?

Yes! Everyone can, as long as they are cornered, when there are only five minutes left in half an hour, Yu Niantian finally made up his mind, and in these twenty-five minutes, Wang Maorong has been silent and has never spoken, and he also closed his eyes when Niantian stood up. No pleading, no cursing. If it were him, it might not take so long to do it.

The first knife was on the buttocks, not Yu Niantian. Because Gu has a cantilever thorn strand, this ass should be fine. Blood gushed out as the knife entered, and Yu Niantian closed her eyes. Ignoring the shouts of the bald uncle in front of him, he hurriedly collected a lot of blood.

"You have to draw it right the first time!" Wang Maorong was also a fish on the chopping board at this time, slaughtered by others. He can only hope that Yu Niantian can paint well soon, so that he will not have another pain.

But! Why is the script designed this way? Yu Niantian didn't have any experience in painting, so it was clear that he had to endure many pains.

"Gone again, I'm sorry." Yu Niantian has already cried, she has always been cold, in fact, it is more of a mask to protect herself, her guilt, helplessness, and sadness at this time have overflowed.

"Go on! The script won't be like this forever, and I'll be dead until I die. Wang Maorong was sweating profusely at this time, and he tried his best to restrain his trembling, but the pain was real. He didn't believe that the script would torture him like this.

"There must be life!" But there are already seven or eight wounds on his body at this time, most of which are not critical places, which is the only thing Yu Niantian can think about.

Strange to say, it was as if he was a bag of blood, but the blood was different in different locations. It seems that when the bleeding runs out, it stops the bleeding on its own. Although it is very inconsistent with reality, this undoubtedly requires Yu Niantian to use the knife again and again to cut the human body.

"What a bad screenwriter." If anyone is watching this horror movie, they will definitely say the same. Failure after failure made Yu Niantian's fingers tremble, but the more anxious she was, the more difficult it was to draw well.

Look at the other side. Ran Lei has been walking for twenty minutes, and he has been carefully looking for buildings with similar characteristics.

"Where's the newsroom? I haven't seen a similar building in a long time, am I mistaken? He was puzzled, but time waits for no one, and an hour is about to come. And there were too many ghosts around him, and he couldn't speed up. You have to maintain a speed similar to that of passers-by to stay undetected by the ghosts.

"Gotta run!" But he still can't use psychic things at will, so it's only the first act, and the later plot will make him die ugly.

He kept his speed constant, and finally thought of a way. It can speed up even if it goes unnoticed. He took two sharp steps, and the ghosts in the crowd immediately noticed him. is constantly approaching him, and at this time, he suddenly pushed up a middle-aged uncle, because they are all made of NPCs, the uncle is also at his own permission.

The ghost suddenly couldn't tell which of the two was human. But that's not enough, you need to find the newsroom, and you need more than that.