Chapter 139: Let Me Paint You
The art room that flowed with red paint echoed with the art teachers chilly voice. She had been teaching for years, but she had never encountered something like this, be it before or after death.
How can the students leave the classroom during class?
Her voice came from the canvases. Slowly, all the paintings made by the killers turned into ones made by the victims. Five paintings had the theme of classroom and students. No one in the paintings died, but if one looked closer, one would notice that most students looked at the podium, but the spot where the teacher should be was empty. The real victim should be the art teacher. Her body was cut and hidden around the art room.
Red paint soaked through every painting. The floor cracked, and the walls peeled off. Blood threads crawled out of the corner and merged to form the silhouette of a woman. She stood on the podiums in every painting. She was gentle, kind and beautiful, but her eyes glowed with resentment.
Art Room 2104 was a taboo zone. Both the headmaster and teachers knew that there was a big ghost there. Her power was special. She could hide in paintings and almost couldnt be killed. The woman in the paintings walked down the podium. She appeared to want to walk out of the canvas.
Ill capture all of you back and turn you into the human plaster models and place you at the most conspicuous spots.
Her gaze looked at the door venomously. When her hands touched the red paint, her fair fingers poked out of the canvas. Xi San, who was the first to escape, shoved the art room door open. He ran back with the rest of the class.
The exquisite hand hung in mid-air. The art teacher looked confused.
The students obediently returned to their seats. They sat inside the bloodred art room. It was like everyone was trying to get into the best art school. Nothing could affect their interest in learning.
The art teacher was in the middle of a rage when her students all came back. The escaped lambs all returned to her side.
No! Four is missing! The confusion in her eyes was replaced by venom again. The woman didnt walk out of her paintings. She flitted between the canvases and soon arrived at the door. The red paint carved out her shadow. She realised that her resentment room was enveloped by something.
Even the school rules can affect my resentment room. What is this? The art teacher discovered something that angered and shocked her. Someone was painting over her resentment room!
A crazy killer turned her resentment room into his canvas, and he wanted to make her resentment room into one of his creations.
Hatred and anger weaved together. The art teacher glared at the only student who was still standing outside the art class.
Is it you? Are you an artist too? The art teacher questioned with hatred.
Dont use too. Gao Ming narrowed his eyes. Before he spoke, a voice entered the art teachers ears. You do not deserve to be called an artist. At most, you are an art lover.
Art lover? The art teacher hadnt been provoked like this in a long time already. This was more hurtful than calling her ugly and bad-tempered.
I didnt say that. Gao Ming washed his hands, but it was already too late. The art teacher entered Xia Yangs painting.
Xia Yangs resentment room was the bungalow in his death portrait. Every painting there contained Xia Yangs madness and thoughts. His lifes inspiration, memory and value were in these paintings. As long as they persisted, he wouldnt disappear.
In terms of artistic merit, the art teacher was less experienced than Xia Yang. The scary thing about her was her endless hatred towards the killer and the living. It was her hatred that turned her art room into a resentment room.
Neither of the artists wanted to surrender. The way they fought impressed Gao Ming too. Neither of them walked out of their paintings. Using blood and memory as a medium and their lingering obsession as a paintbrush, they painted on the others resentment room.
The artists every painting contained their emotions. Once ones resentment was fully taken over by the other, they would lose everything and become the winners art.
The art teacher had never encountered a big ghost like this before. Xia Yang had the upperhand. The resentment on him was never stronger, but he showed no weakness.
I really dont like to bully kids. In my eyes, you are a talented girl. You remind me of the day when I was four and went to art class for the first time. A girl sat beside him. She held the paintbrush dumbly and tried her best to express her inner thoughts on the canvas. The critique I gave her was that she was cute.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! The art teacher had lost her mind. She was a taboo-like existence at the school. Every student had to abide by her rules. The other teachers didnt dare to come to her art room to disturb her.
There is a burning passion hidden in your heart. Why dont you show her? The girl in your heart was never dismembered. I can hear her cry. She wears a dress of hatred and walks on blades. Her warm feet step on the cold blades. Red blood and cold glint touched. The wounds bloom like flowers. Its beautiful! Xia Yangs tone was enraptured by madness. His bungalow was dissolving. All the red paint splattered on the outer wall of the art room before it seeped in.
Let me paint you. I will help you bloom so that everyone can smell the flower fragrance deep inside your soul.
The self-portraits of the art teacher appeared on the outer wall of the art room. Every angle carried a different pain and beauty. Her limbs were bent out of shape, but her face became more and more captivating.
You are crazy! The art teacher kept using blood to wash away the self-portraits. She also wanted to paint Xia Yang, but she couldnt sketch out Xia Yangs face. She couldnt see through him.
The big ghosts in the school never followed the school rules, but they wouldnt actively go against them either. However, the art teacher saw something different in Xia Yangs art.
There was no limitation or rules in Xia Yangs eyes. His art was a challenge to the limitation that was placed on the human soul.
The more she understood it, the more feared she became. If pure hatred was pure red, then Xia Yang felt like pure black to her.
One couldnt tell one was inside it. The extremism, madness and greed consumed any ray of light.
The self-portraits of the art teacher on the outer wall became more realistic. The art teacher had a bad feeling. Once Xia Yang could perfect his portrait of her, it would be the time her self would fully disappear.
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