What's going on? How did it turn out like this?
Not only the painter was stunned, but the mercenaries and professors were too.
What is this shield that suddenly appeared?
And where did that knife come from?
The atmosphere suddenly became tense.
In the live broadcast room.
"Damn, this was done by a big shot, but the big shot's painting skills are amazing, this is almost the same as the painter."
"This shield is drawn so well, awesome."
"Yeah, weren't they studying how to draw before?"
"Big shot is mighty, let's see what happens to this painter in the end, haha."
...
In the tomb.
"You... how could you..."
The painter looked at the brush in his hand with some surprise. This was something brought out by the Queen of the Ghost Cave Tribe. There was only one such brush in the world, and there wouldn't be a second. How could this man have it?
"Oh, I almost forgot, there's still a malevolent spirit here, can't keep it."
Zhou Lin drew a huge knife, and saw the malevolent spirit being cut off, disappearing into the entire space.
The mercenaries helped each other up, walking step by step towards Zhou Lin's position, their bodies aching.
"Captain Zhou Lin, I'm sorry, we..."
Captain Zhao's face was pale, full of apology.
"Alright, you're doing great, it's not your fault."
Zhou Lin looked at Captain Zhao with a light smile. This was already a very good outcome.
"Now leave it to me. This painter should not exist in this world."
Zhou Lin took out the Yin-Yang Brush and walked step by step towards the shocked painter.
"How do you have such a brush? The Queen said this brush only belongs to me. What is yours?"
The painter seemed disbelieving and was eager to know.
"I told you the Queen doesn't like you, and you'd believe anything she says. This brush was given to me by my master, and it's a very powerful brush. Yours is nothing."
As soon as Zhou Lin finished speaking, he drew a cage next to the painter, trapping him inside.
"Heh... the Queen would never lie to me. Do you think a mere cage like yours can trap me? It's utterly ridiculous."
The painter looked at Zhou Lin with cold eyes, then took out his brush and drew a door on the cage.
Very easily.
"Heh... then try this. Let's see if what the Queen gave you is better, or what I gave you is better."
Zhou Lin drew a fiery pit with the brush, with chains binding the painter, and flames flickering below him.
"You think these things..."
Seeing this, the painter drew a basin of water, but the flames showed no sign of being extinguished.
He was taken aback.
"The things from the Ghost Cave Tribe are all evil. My brush cannot be solved by any evil thing. I will not keep you, I will burn you alive."
When Zhou Lin drew it, he added his own bloodline aura into the flames. Even if the painter's brush was powerful, it would be in vain.
Those behind them, upon hearing the words "burn you alive," couldn't help but be startled. Hadn't he already died?
How could he be burned to death?
Huo Qi and the metaphysics professor said in confusion.
"Did I hear that wrong? What do you mean 'burn you alive'?"
The metaphysics professor looked at Zhou Lin, also not understanding.
"Could there be some problem?"
Professor Fang beside him felt that Zhou Lin was not someone who spoke nonsense.
"We'll know in a moment."
Song Lin decided to wait and see Zhou Lin's situation for now.
At this moment, Zhou Lin was looking at the painter beside him.
"You are not a ghost. The painter is already dead, and you turned his ashes into a painting, right?"
Zhou Lin's words made everyone even more confused.
In the live broadcast room.
"Holy crap, I think I heard something terrifying. What's going on? Is this the truth?"
"It seems so. I thought this painter was a ghost, but I realized that maybe things are not as we thought."
"That's true. I think I was biased. Did I think wrong?"
"Let's wait and see what the big shot says. We'll know soon."
"Yes, let's wait."
...
Zhou Lin saw that the painter's eyes were no longer panicked as before, only endless obsession.
"Heh, I underestimated you. You know quite a lot. Everyone will think I am the ghost of the painter, but you are not."
"You are the original body of this brush, aren't you? It seems the painter treated you very well. Even until death, you are fulfilling the painter's wishes."
Zhou Lin didn't quite understand why this brush would act like this.
"The painter treated me very well. He confessed his love for the Queen to me every day, and often told me he liked the Queen's aura. Over time, I also became full of admiration and love for the Queen."
"The painter often used human blood to create better paintings for me. But among these blood, only the painter's blood was the most delicious. The painter noticed that every time a painting was made with his blood, it would have a better effect."
"I have drunk the blood of many people, but only the painter's blood was the most delicious. I really like this taste."
The painter's eyes were filled with excitement and reminiscence as he said this.
But Huo Qi and the others behind him broke out in cold sweats upon hearing this.
Who the hell could have thought of this? Was this something a human could do?
What kind of painter would do such things while painting? And using blood?
In the live broadcast room.
"Damn, is this true? No wonder the big shot said he wanted to burn him alive. Now I understand, it's because of this kind of thing."
"Can we not be so terrifying? A brush can cause trouble?"
"It seems so. After all, this brush came from the Ghost Cave Tribe, not comparable to ordinary brushes."
"But this brush seems not as powerful as the big shot's."
"Of course, the big shot is truly amazing. Who can compare?"
...
In the tomb.
"Are you done talking?"
Zhou Lin looked at the painter, his gaze cold.
"You..."
The painter looked at Zhou Lin's aura and was momentarily speechless.
"Do you think by saying these things, I will let you go?"
Zhou Lin spoke again.
"I'm not saying this for you to let me go, but I want to tell you that I'm tired. I've guarded this painting for so many years, and now the painting is destroyed."
"I have no regrets. But I want to know, why is your brush the same as mine?"
The painter looked at him in confusion, but still held the brush in his hand, as if constantly trying.
Wanting to break free from this predicament.
"Don't even think about it. It's useless. Sympathy is useless to me."