"You in the painting?" Chen Ge also came over. He had seen all thirteen paintings in the studio and had some impression of the fourth one: "Did you draw this?"

Zhou Tu didn't say anything. His soul seemed to be sucked into the painting, his eyes fixed on the canvas.

The fourth oil painting depicts this painting studio.

In the upper half, thirteen painters are sitting on chairs and painting. The lower half of the painting is blood red. The thirteen painters died tragically in their seats in different ways.

It is important to note that in the upper part of the painting, what the painters drew on the canvas is exactly how they died tragically.

These painters already knew their fate, but they did not choose to change it. Instead, they recorded everything in full.

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 was actually created by Zhou Tu.

If you look closely, you can find that the painter sitting fourth in the painting looks very similar to Zhou Tu.

"Other paintings are trying their best to express an upside-down world, but this one 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 ranks fourth. He is not the most experienced, but he has the most unique perspective.

Unlike the others when their memories came back, Zhou Tu stood blankly beside the easel. Nothing had changed about him, but the atmosphere in the studio was subtly changing.

The feeling is indescribable, as if all the people in the painting had their eyes open and were being watched by a group of gazes.

"Why do I suddenly feel a little cold?" Wang Yicheng shrank his neck and hid behind Zhang Ju. He looked around blankly with a hint of fear in his eyes.

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

Zhou Tu's body seemed to be frozen as his eyelashes fluttered. The entire studio was reflected in his eyes, and his face was pale.

"Am I already dead?"

A hoarse voice came out from his lips, and as he opened his mouth to speak, the fourth painter in the scroll suddenly moved.

The painter who was originally 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 strangled by an invisible rope.

His eyeballs bulged out, almost popping out of their sockets. He struggled desperately, but his body slowly left the seat.

His head was filled with blood and his expression was distorted, and he gradually became like himself in the painting.

What’s even more terrifying is that in the lower half of the painting, Zhou Tu, who is in the blood-red world, slowly smiles.

"Zhou Tu! Your neck!" Wang Yicheng pointed at Zhou Tu's neck and shouted loudly.

Zhou Tu, who was standing outside the oil painting, was slowly becoming like himself in the painting. A black and purple mark appeared on his neck, and the color of the mark continued to deepen as time went by.

The neck became deformed and a ticking sound was heard in the ears.

Following the sound, Chen Ge discovered that in the lower half of the fourth oil painting, Zhou Tu, who was trapped in the blood-red world and died tragically, had come back to life at some point.

He was lying under the canvas, covered in blood, his face pressed against the canvas, his mouth split open, and blood flowing down his face.

Its bulging eyeballs stared straight at Zhou Tu who was standing outside the painting through the canvas. It seemed as if it wanted to crawl out of the painting and drag Zhou Tu outside the scroll in!

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

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

Turning their heads, several members of the Supernatural Research Society discovered 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 last time when Shadow and I came here. Could it be that they sensed Zhoutu?"

Facts once again proved that Zhou Tu was unusual. Chen Ge signaled other members of the club to get close to Zhou Tu. If any problems arose, they would immediately take Zhou Tu away by force.

The blood color on the oil painting became brighter, a 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 found that the blood mist in the room began to gather 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 attached itself to 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 from the center of the blood mist, but who knew that as soon as he exerted force, the blood mist instantly condensed into a rope as thick as a wrist and tightly strangled Zhou Tu's neck, hanging him in the center of the room.

"Zhou Tu!"

With his neck entangled in a rope of blood, 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 recorded his tragic death in full detail.

"I drew my own death with my own hands. I watched myself being hanged and gasping for breath..."

The atmosphere in the painting room became more depressing, with more and more blood flowing out of the painting. 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 ways of dying. It is not like stabbing your heart with a knife. After a short period of numbness, your body feels as if it were burned by fire, and the pain spreads from the wound to your whole body. This is a very gentle way to die. Your strength is drained, your oxygen decreases little by little, and your despair increases little by little. You can clearly feel the process of your own death."

A male voice came from somewhere in the room, as if it came 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 who was speaking in the oil painting studio was the same person who was 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 are still a part of this place."

The voice seemed to be talking to Zhou Tu, and it was impossible to detect the location of the owner of the voice. If you listen carefully, you will even find that the voice seems to come from Zhou Tu's own mouth.

"Don't resist. Your mission has been accomplished. Sit quietly in your seat and wait for the last painter to enter."

The blood mist enveloped Zhou Tu. He looked more and more terrifying, and his body became thinner at a speed visible to the naked eye.

When everyone's attention was focused on Zhou Tu, a fourteenth easel appeared in the painting studio.

The dissipated blood mist floated onto the fourteenth easel, leaving a faint blood-red color on the canvas that was as smooth as human skin. From a distance, it looked like a skirt stained with blood.