The Memory Sea had overturned. Every raindrop was one of the Painter's eyes, and combined with his special ability, this gave him an absolute advantage in the Ghost School. No wonder Chang Wenyu hadn't dared face him head-on.
The man in the Blood Mist sped toward the Teaching Building in the mirror, but the Painter stood his ground, staring into the heart of the storm. Black arms extended from his wounds, spreading outward and revealing the last unblemished patch of skin on his chest.
The battle had been so fierce, yet the Painter had still shielded that patch of skin with his arm. He had managed to keep it hidden from many people without their realizing.
It was the only uninjured spot on his entire body, a testament to how brutal the Red-Clothed had fought.
Hidden in the storm of Blood Mist, the man reached the mirror with ease. No one stopped him. Everything was going so smoothly it felt unreal.
He felt a faint unease and looked back, just in time to see the Painter remove the last piece of "Canvas" from his body.
"He saw me?"
The seed of unease took root in his heart, quickly growing into a thorny bramble that wrapped around him.
The instant he tore off the "Canvas," the man's speed surged and his figure began to shift rapidly.
He was like a Nightmare, with no definite shape. Everyone saw something different.
The Painter's bloodstained fingers hovered above the "Canvas." His eyes were pitch-black, but for a long time, he didn't put "brush" to it.
"You're not a Ghost?"
Rain poured down in torrents. The Painter seemed to have seen something, and he spoke a very strange sentence.
After he said it, the man at the center of the Blood-Colored Storm grew even more