Classic Opening?

Hanjiang City.

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Western outskirts.

Inside a lavishly decorated wealthy residential complex.

The air was thick with sorrow.

A mourning tent had been specially erected in the residential plaza, with joss paper scattered across the ground. It looked like a funeral was being held.

Following information he had found online, Zhang Ze located the complex.

"The auction site said that painting was bought for seven million by a wealthy man from Hanjiang City. He was also a fan of horror games and horror movies."

"He usually invested in independent games and art films with niche themes under his own name, and without exception, they were all horror-themed."

"This wealthy man... his surname was Zhou."

Zhang Ze had very limited information.

To protect privacy, the auction site did not disclose any details. Zhang Ze only knew the buyer's surname.

Yet after entering the complex, he heard the wail of suona horns and soon saw a pair of mourning couplets hanging outside the tent.

Outside the mourning tent.

Before Zhang Ze even entered.

He saw a young woman dressed in full mourning attire, holding a spirit tablet in her left hand and a funeral staff in her right. With one howl, she burst into tears.

She wept dramatically, tears and snot streaming down her face, completely absorbed in the performance.

Was this the deceased's daughter?

Just as Zhang Ze thought that.

A group of people in mourning clothes nearly identical to hers suddenly appeared beside her. Holding all kinds of instruments, they beat gongs and drums and began their funeral wailing.

"Damn, a professional team."

"Other rich guys leave behind a football team. This rich guy left behind a vocal ensemble. If he'd had a few more daughters, they could've debuted as a girl band."

Zhang Ze muttered inwardly.

But when he entered the mourning hall.

He saw that the person keeping vigil beside the coffin, her face truly numb and vacant, was a woman.

"Are you Old Zhou's friend?"

"Please come in."

"The memorial service has already been held. Thank you for coming to pay your respects."

"..."

Zhang Ze's gaze fell on the memorial tablet before the coffin. The black-and-white portrait showed a plain-looking middle-aged man—the very Mr. Zhou.

Mr. Zhou really was dead, and he had died only recently. It was likely related to that sinister painting.

Zhang Ze cleared his throat and first put on a properly mournful demeanor.

He bowed deeply to the memorial tablet.

Then he lit an incense stick.

Seeing Zhang Ze's actions, the woman did not become suspicious because of his young age. After all, Mr. Zhou usually enjoyed horror films and games and knew quite a few young people.

She merely took him for a friend she had never met.

Taking the opportunity, Zhang Ze steered the topic toward whether Mr. Zhou had recently purchased an oil painting.

"Old Zhou did spend a great deal of money on a painting not long ago."

"They said it was a cursed painting. Whoever owned it would die an unnatural death, but he just had to like this sort of thing... Sigh, who would have thought he'd really die?"

Mrs. Zhou's expression was filled with grief.

Zhang Ze's eyes shifted slightly. "May I take a look at that painting?"

"Of course. Please come in."

Mrs. Zhou did not refuse Zhang Ze.

Perhaps she had long wanted to get rid of the painting herself. Since Zhang Ze was interested, she could not have been more willing.

Zhang Ze followed her into the house.

Their home was a detached villa in the center of the complex.

The moment he entered.

Zhang Ze caught a strange scent of ink.

It was like when a calligrapher wrote with a brush—they had to grind ink beforehand, preparing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone before writing. The air would inevitably be filled with the smell of ink.

And the source of that smell was a painting hanging on the wall.

By rights, the ink should have dried long ago. It should not have been giving off such a pungent odor.

More importantly, the system had told Zhang Ze that the painting's material was the blood of the dead...

So where had the ink come from?

Zhang Ze stared at the painting.

It depicted a woman, though only the outline of her body revealed that she was a rather voluptuous young woman. Her upper body could mostly be seen clearly, but her face was indistinct, and her arms disappeared from the wrists down.

"If you're interested in this painting, you can take it away."

"I won't charge you."

Zhang Ze:?

Could he really speedrun this?

Zhang Ze had been prepared for a drawn-out battle. If he had to stay in the western outskirts, he would have specifically booked a hotel farther from places like Liwan Town and New Sea Central Hospital.

He had not expected Mrs. Zhou to agree so readily.

He could simply move the painting back to New Century Amusement Park and deal with it slowly.

Even if he could not handle it himself.

He could always turn up the pressure on Chen Dazhui next door.

Chen Dazhui looked like he was all alone on the surface, but behind the Door Opening, his parents and the rest had long paved the way for him.

"Then I'll take it?"

"Take it."

"You horror-theme enthusiasts, every last one of you, just aren't afraid of death. Old Zhou used to be obsessed with this stuff too. Who knew he'd really suffer for it..."

Mrs. Zhou was clearly still grieving.

Since the deceased's widow had said so.

Zhang Ze intended to carry the painting away.

But just as he gripped both sides of the frame, he heard a childish voice from the bedroom next door:

"Don't take Big Sister away!!"

Zhang Ze turned to look.

Inside the bedroom, a little boy had pulled open a crack in the door. One eye peered through the gap, staring at Zhang Ze with a sinister expression.

"Little Zhou, stop making trouble."

"Your father was killed by that painting."

Mrs. Zhou glared at the little boy.

"Nonsense! Big Sister wouldn't kill Dad."

"Big Sister is really nice. Every night, she teaches me how to draw, and lots of little friends keep me company too."

"If Big Sister really killed Dad, then if you give Big Sister to big brother, wouldn't she kill big brother too?"

Mrs. Zhou was instantly speechless.

That logic... actually made perfect sense.

But she really had not thought that far.

Every time she entered the bedroom and saw the painting hanging on the wall, she felt chills crawl down her spine.

Now that someone could help dispose of it, she had not given it much thought. Little Zhou's words, however, reminded her.

"If you have concerns, that's fine. I'll hire someone to deal with the painting. If you're still willing to help, I can pay you."

"Wait a moment."

Zhang Ze called a pause.

He could get the painting and make some money off it too.

It really was a profitable deal.

But this opening... was it not a little too familiar?!

A family plagued by strange events, with only the wife left alone; the husband had passed away, and there was an abnormal child.

Shouldn't this pre-made instance have been for Chen Dazhui to clear?!

"Kid, you call this painting Big Sister?"

"Yeah. She's Big Sister. She only came to our Household a few days ago. She's especially gentle and nice to me. She teaches me how to draw and watches cartoons with me."

"Look, this is the little bear I drew."

The little boy handed Zhang Ze a crumpled sheet of paper.

The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming.

Zhang Ze prepared himself mentally.

Yet the moment he took the drawing, his heart still skipped a beat.

There really was something wrong.

The brushwork was very childish, and it depicted...

Boonie Bears.

In the drawing, Big Bear, Second Bear, and Bald Strong stood at the center. A child was riding on Bald Strong's shoulder, with the child labeled in crayon as Little Zhou.