It was a Death Portrait, a new Death Portrait.
In the image, a burly man's fingers twisted one by one, blooming like a hand-shaped flower.
His two thick legs had snapped backward at the knees, then tangled together behind his back in an intricate dead knot.
The man's head was pressed against the ground, as if he had not quite died yet.
His tiger-like eyes were still wide open, while thick blood continuously spilled from his mouth, as though his internal organs had suffered severe damage.
This death was clearly even more horrifying than Yuan Ren and Fan Rong's.
Because he had been tortured to death slowly.
The man in the painting was Qiu Zheyan.
A new choice appeared. In Painter Ghost's left hand was the Death Portrait Xie Zheng had painted for it, while its right hand held a blank sheet of paper.
A trickle of blood slowly ran from the corner of Xie Zheng's mouth. He forced his erratic heartbeat under control and watched the ghost's every move.
Terror had also reached its peak within him, because he could clearly sense Painter Ghost's hesitation.
Unlike last time, when it had directly attacked Mei Sheng, it now hesitated, seemingly unwilling to let Xie Zheng go again.
But this was Xie Zheng's final method, and his only way to buy time.
Xie Zheng had always been the most cautious. He had actually prepared corresponding Death Portraits for Mei Sheng, Dai Yingqi, and Qiu Zheyan long ago.
His purpose was to avoid falling into their current predicament should the first plan fail.
Clearly, his caution and safeguards had given him another chance to survive.
This time, Painter Ghost still chose its left hand.
It gave Xie Zheng a deep look. The darkness gradually thinned, and the lingering glow of dusk fell