The transparent and faded figure quickly solidified in the crimson light, and the scalpel with strange colors seemed to appear extremely lightly in the crimson light.

Cain Chester felt a crack in the clothes on his chest, and then a tingling pain appeared in his chest, and the sound of his heart beating vigorously sounded like thunder in his ears, and the dark blood soaked almost all the clothes on his chest.

He didn't look down, but he knew the general situation there, wisps of flesh sprouts kept popping up, squirming towards the place where it had been cut, trying to restore the cut scar to its original shape, but the power from the unknown extraordinary object left a strange force in the scar, preventing the resealing of his chest.

He could feel the rapid withering of his life with the loss of blood, which should not have appeared in his body, the "resentful soul" should not have shed so much blood in the first place, and the only way to shed so much blood was when he was still a "werewolf". With his promotion, his life seems to be withering for a long time, and his body has long since not had so much blood, and his heart has long been not his weakness.

But the power from the unknown extraordinary object forcibly withdrew him from the state of "spiritualization", and even forcibly "lived" his body.

Jax was genuinely prepared for his arrival, and even though he had avoided the power of the Crimson Moon Crown by his own means, the power of this unknown extraordinary object was very clearly aimed at him.

But it was inevitable, and Chester ignored the wound that would appear in his chest, and reached out to tear open a palm-sized brown paper-wrapped painting that had been in his arms.

The mountains covered with white frost and the meadows stained with black shrubs and barren grass had a strange hue, unknown creatures with deep colors almost obscured the sky, and the writhing cilia sometimes seemed to be scarlet and sometimes seemed to have a transparent deep dark.

But at first glance, all the colors on it seem to be completely absent, except for a canvas with a few black lines, the white space of which is even whiter than the normal canvas itself.

Chester held the painting in front of him with his arms straight, the pitch-black color rapidly staining his skin, pale as bone chips and snowflakes as fast as his eyes. The blood on his chest also disappeared, leaving only a deep gloom, and the clothes with dust and mud completely turned pure white like frost, and the wound on his chest left only a little darkness.

It was as if the sparkling frost spread rapidly, and the moss that had grown from the long-soaked moisture in the corridor he could see in front of him turned black as if it were withered in an instant. A little blood stained in the corridor turned into a little bit of darkness, and the cyan stone slab seemed to have just condensed with frost and turned into a bright white, making the originally somewhat dim corridor extremely bright.

Chester felt that the depression in his heart also disappeared in an instant, Jax's figure was less than five meters in front of him, and quickly outlined and stood still, the skin, hair, and clothes on his body had become completely black and white like him, and the scalpel in his hand with strange colors was only a little black and silver-white blade on the edge.

Chester tugged at the corners of his mouth, not feeling any muscles on his face, only a gap between pitch black and pure white where his mouth was.

The arm in which he held the painting did not change, but he walked slowly forward, and the black and white colors expanded forward until the wooden door reflected in his eyes, and dark lines appeared in his eyes under the completely white background.

He slowly reached out and carefully re-wrapped the vellum paper on the palm-sized painting, the white and dark colors of the surrounding corridor quickly disappeared, most of the pitch black colors on Chester's body also disappeared, but his eyes still left a pale color, and his eyes were still a black and white picture, and his free right hand quickly pushed open the door in front of him.

A baby-like puppet with only black and white colors appeared in front of his eyes, and the colors quickly began to appear on one side of the obviously incongruous arm.

Chester subconsciously closed his eyes, and his sharp nails subconsciously stretched out, cutting through the kraft paper in his hand. The brown vellum paper fell in pieces, and the colors on it quickly faded, leaving only a slight shade of color.

The baby-like puppet's obviously uncoordinated arm on one side quickly brought on a blue-black, covered with wrinkled lines with some dark brown marks, with a pitch-black color mucus flowing from the middle point, the strange bulge expanded and contracted from time to time, the skin at the top was bandaged with a clear sense of transparency, a little pale covered with a stretched blue skin as if to drill out of those strange bulges.

A shrill roar mixed with chaos and crazy whispers appeared in Chester's ears, and his mind was in a trance for a moment, and then he quickly came to his senses, and the blood gushed from his ears, which instantly turned into pitch-black lines.

"Son of God" S'ea!

Chester's mind flashed through this thought, and he subconsciously grasped the painting in his hand, and his mind recalled the black and white arm, which was obviously out of harmony with the entire puppet.

Be a part of Him!

Otherwise, "Mélent's Painting" would not have had an effect on the Muppet in the first place, and he would have died the moment he opened the door.

But he was still certain to die, and Chester knew that clearly. His mind was alternating between trance and sobriety, and he knew very well that he would soon be completely reduced to a black ink stain on "Mélent's paintings".

So here he left the last traces of himself, Chester gritted his teeth slightly, and some sluggish spirituality followed the dark aura with a deep and viscous touch the note in his waist pocket, and the gap in his mouth with pitch black and pure white colors closed one by one, and some sluggish Hermes mixed with a shrill roar mixed with confusion and mad whispering.

The prayer he had chosen was extremely short, as if he wanted to pronounce the name as quickly as possible, which was not too long, and even seemed a little less solemn.

"I pray for you,"

"The unending anticipation, the endless pain, the silent one who never forgets,"

"Pray that you will lower your eyes here ......"

Sticky black silt churned out of Chester's pocket, gray-black mist quickly escaped and enveloped the entire basement, black and white quickly faded from the basement, endless negative thoughts welling up from his mind as the black sludge appeared in his vision.

Chester felt something palm-like cover his ears, and a cold, liquid-like substance quickly flooded him.