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

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

The fourth oil painting is the oil painting studio.

The upper part of the thirteen painters sat on chairs to draw, and the lower part of the painting was blood-red. The thirteen painters died tragically in their seats with different ways of dying.

It should be noted that the paintings painted by the painters on the drawing boards in the first half of the painting are exactly what they died tragically.

These painters already knew their fate, but they did not choose to change it, but recorded everything in a complete and complete manner.

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

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

"Other paintings are trying hard to express the inverted world, and only this painting is painted by the painter himself." Chen Ge did not disturb Zhou Tu, his eyes moved between the painting and Zhou Tu: "What has Zhou Tu experienced? Why is his paintings so unique?"

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

Unlike the way others saw when they woke up, Zhou Tu stood beside the easel, and there was no change in his body, but the atmosphere in the studio was undergoing subtle changes.

The feeling was indescribable, as if all the portraits in the painting were opened, they were being watched by gazes.

"Why am I suddenly a little cold?" Wang Yicheng shrank 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 Zhoutu on the shoulder.

As his eyelashes blinked, Zhou Tu's body seemed to have solidified. 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 who was ranked fourth in the scroll suddenly moved.

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

His eyes were protruding and he was about to squeeze out his sockets. He struggled desperately, but his body left the seat little by little.

His head was congested and his expression was distorted, gradually changing like himself in the painting.

What's even more terrifying is that in the second half of the oil painting, Zhou Tu, who was in the blood-red world, slowly smiled on his face.

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

Standing outside the oil painting, Zhou Tu's body was slowly becoming like himself in the oil painting. A black and purple mark appeared on his neck. As time went by, the color of the mark was still deepening.

The neck became deformed and the ticking sound came from the ears.

Looking at the sound, Chen Ge found that the second half of the fourth oil painting, Zhou Tu, who was locked in a blood-red world, came alive at some point.

He was covered in blood and lay under the canvas, his face tightly against the canvas, his mouth cracked, and blood was flowing down his face.

The raised eyes were staring at the weekly pictures standing outside the oil painting through the canvas. It seemed to be about to climb out of the oil painting and drag the weekly pictures 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 his head and looking, several members of the Supernatural Research Society found that all the portraits of the characters in the entire oil painting room were abnormal.

The people in the painting lay on the frame, and they all seemed to be ready to come out!

"This didn't happen when Shadow and I came last time. Could it be that they sensed Zhou Tu?"

The facts once again proved that Zhou Tu was unusual. Chen Ge signaled other members of the society to get close to Zhou Tu. Once there was a problem, he immediately forced Zhou Tu away.

The blood on the oil painting became bright, and red mist was emitted, and the increasingly heavy smell of blood began to appear.

"The situation is not very 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 open mouths.

"These things want to enter Zhoutu's body!"

The blood mist avoided others and sucked on Zhou Tu, gathering more and more.

"Teacher Bai! You 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 of 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 his wrist, which tightly tied Zhou Tu's neck and hung him in the center of the room.

"Zhoutu!"

His neck was wrapped in blood-filled ropes, and Zhou Tu shook in the house like a pendulum. His appearance was exactly the same as himself in the painting.

He had seen his death and recorded his tragic death completely.

"I personally draw my own way of death. I watched myself hanged and breathless..."

The atmosphere in the oil painting room became even more depressing, and the blood was flowing out from the oil painting. The people in the painting looked at Zhoutu who was hanging in the center of the room and were all in a carnival.

"Hanging is different from other ways of death. It is not like stabbing into the heart with a knife. After a short period of numbness, the body seems to be burned by a fire, and the feeling of pain spreads from the wound. This is a very gentle way of death. The strength is drained, the oxygen is reduced little by little, and the despair is increased little by little. You can clearly feel the process of your death."

The male voice came from a certain direction in the room, as if it was from the paintings on the wall, or from the gap between the floor and the wall.

Chen Ge could not determine the location of the sound, but he could tell that the person who spoke in the oil painting studio at this time was the same person who spoke in the toilet on the top floor of the teaching building.

"Det you don't have to be afraid of death. I know you will come back. No matter how many times you escape, you are a member of here."

The sound seemed to be talking to Zhou Tu, and it could not capture the position of the voice owner. If you listen carefully, you would even find that the sound seemed to be coming from Zhou Tu's own mouth.

"Don't resist, your mission has been completed. Sit quietly in your own position and wait for the last painter to enter."

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

When everyone was focusing on Zhou Tu, there was an extra fourteenth easel in the oil painting room.

The scattered blood mist floated to the fourteenth easel, leaving a faint blood-red color on the smooth canvas, which looked like a skirt stained with blood from a distance.
Chapter completed!