I see!
Fu Qian understood why the Witch had reacted that way when she saw the Pus Stone.
She had long known what the future held for this world and had no desire to interfere.
"By the way, why are you here? And why were you locked away in the deepest part of the prison?"
Fu Qian remembered the question he'd had earlier.
"Where else would I go?"
The Witch sighed silently.
"When I was born, the world was already a chaotic wasteland. It was terribly boring."
"I wandered for many years, until I finally found a trace of my mother's scent here, along with a group of survivors."
"They were weak, but at least I could talk to them."
"Of course, they were rather afraid of me."
"So you met the person who painted this?"
"No."
The Witch shook her head.
"Although there were some capable people here back then, they weren't nearly skilled enough."
"After a little interaction, I realized they didn't welcome me. So I pretended to be captured and let them seal me away down here."
"This world is small and dilapidated, but it's still a little more interesting than the outside. So I stayed here, all the way until now."
"No wonder there are clearly so many stories about you here, and they're all rather unfriendly."
Fu Qian sighed and turned his gaze back to the painting.
"You said you could paint a new one just now. Is painting it really that easy?"
"It's not difficult to begin with. The key is the paint."
"Paint? Are you saying you can use your own blood?"
Fu Qian looked at the Witch in surprise.
"As a power of the same origin, there's no fundamental difference."
The Witch picked up the palette beside her and gave it a