An ordinary person would've been scared out of their wits and run for the hills.
Lin Baici didn't even move a toe. He just stood there, watching blood drip from the oil painting. He even had time to toss his hatchet into the air and catch it, just to kill time.
Flow!
Keep flowing!
Let's see if you ghosts can bleed to death!
As it turned out, the bride in the wedding portrait bled for about a minute before the flow grew heavier, like a mountain stream swollen by rain. Then the stitches on her neck seemed unable to withstand the pressure and began to snap.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Lin Baici even heard the threads breaking.
The dusty bedding was soon soaked through with blood.
That wasn't all. Suddenly, a jet of blood erupted like a volcano, splashing across the floor.
Splash! Splash!
Lin Baici still didn't move. His feet seemed rooted to the spot.
The blood flowed so fast that it pooled on the floor and started spreading toward the door. A pair of women's slippers was swept out from under the bed, bobbing back and forth like a little boat.
"Ah!"
A faint, chilling scream rang out in the bedroom.
"That all you've got?"
Lin Baici spoke, his voice tinged with mild mockery.
He'd watched American horror movies and never found them scary. He'd even felt like laughing.
The directors' usual tricks were nothing more than psychopathic killers, gallons of blood, severed limbs, and the like.
Most Asians weren't afraid of that sort of thing.
Japanese and Thai horror movies, though, took a different approach. There wasn't a drop of blood, but the atmosphere they created could scare you half to death.
Lin Baici was in the same frame of mind now as when he watched American horror