The remaining players' pupils suddenly contracted.
This is definitely a ghost above the horror level!
At this moment, they all understood.
Fell into a trap.
Paint or die!
There is no other choice.
The other two players who were killed were also brutally killed because they were dissatisfied with their paintings.
For players who have no talent for drawing, this is tantamount to waiting for death.
But the person who turned over the drawing board now happened to be a famous painter in the real world. An ordinary vase and an ordinary person were portrayed with great talent under his pen, as if they were given another layer of life, becoming more profound and more unforgettable.
To ensure that his work was flawless, he completed the painting in ten minutes and spent twenty minutes correcting the flaws.
Turning over the drawing board at this moment, the player also had a nervous expression, but his eyes were staring at the candies on the podium.
A chill came over him, and he knew that the female teacher had come down.
Then, a handprint clearly appeared on his drawing board.
The fingers are slender and slide gently, as if caressing and admiring.
“It’s a very good painting.”
"Loneliness, fear, confinement, sadness... you vividly portrayed everything that should be seen. You are an excellent student."
The simple comment made the player breathe a sigh of relief, but the following words made his expression freeze again.
"It's just that what you drew is not what I want."
"You can't see his inner heart at all. You only see what you can see on the surface. It's so naive."
The female teacher's voice was filled with disappointment and an inexplicable sadness.
The player frowned and retorted in a deep voice, "On the surface? The eyes are the windows to the heart. Even the slightest glimmer in his eyes reveals that he is a man who has experienced despair and is extremely autistic."
"This is his inner world, and I perfectly presented it with a sketch pen, but you say it's just superficial. What reason do you have to question my work?"
The player's voice was filled with anger, as if his own work of art was being trampled upon by others.
At this moment, he even ignored his role as a student and fought back vigorously as a well-known and respected painter.
The studio fell into silence.
The other party seemed to be speechless.
The player snorted, feeling that he had won the argument.
But the next second, the woman's answer came from the air: "It's simple, because he is my husband."
Immediately afterwards, a shrill scream was heard in the studio!
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