It wasn't just Zhou Tu. The first thirteen easels in the middle of the art studio were all showing signs of change.
Blood spread across the canvases. The paintings, which had originally been upside down, gradually changed. The normal halves were swallowed by the blood, and screams and wails poured incessantly from within the canvases.
"Teacher Bai, what on earth is going on?"
Every painting in the Oil Painting Room was divided into two halves. The upper half was exactly the same as reality, while the lower half was a sea of blood.
Once the blood began to spread, all the Blood-Colored Little People in the lower halves of the paintings crawled along the blood to the other side.
Using every method at their disposal and the tools in the paintings, they killed the versions of themselves who looked normal.
The Inverted World was being destroyed. Even more unnervingly, more and more Blood Threads emerged from the bodies of the people killed in the paintings, all surging toward the Fourteenth Easel.
The image on the canvas grew clearer. That red dress seemed to be some kind of taboo, and it would take everyone's blood to make her appear.
"Thump!"
Zhou Tu, his face pale, was thrown to the floor by the Blood Threads. His body was badly deformed, like a sponge someone had squeezed with all their might.
The Blood Mist that had originally enveloped him grew thicker, drifting slowly into the Fourteenth Easel.
Blood traced the woman's long dress, bringing it vividly to life, like a Sea of Blood rising and falling.
Screaming faces were etched across the hem. Beneath her feet, anguished souls shrieked in pain. She was like a flower blooming in the deepest pit of despair.
Compared with everything around her, she seemed utterly out of