Welcome to the Nightmare Live

Wen Jianyan hurriedly stepped up and ran towards the place where Hugo was lying.

He crouched down and asked in a low voice:

Hey, are you okay!

Hugo did not respond.

In the weak light, his eyelids were tightly closed, his face was pale, as if he had lost his breath.

Seeing this, Wen Jianyan's heart lifted a little, he held the flashlight in one hand, stretched out the other hand, and groped to find the other side's neck.

Under the cold skin, I could vaguely feel a slight beating.

Wen Jianyan breathed a sigh of relief. Well, it doesn't look like he's dead yet.

He withdrew his hand and began to examine Hugo's scars

The five-point solution is completely arranged and blood is soaked, and it looks very shocking. From the front wall to the small building, there is a huge opening in the street. Man Xiao translated, the blood flows from the tomb of Tang Huaihua's flowery tomb - A Tour of Huai Nanjing

Wen Jianyan performed simple hemostasis for him with the fastest speed.

After doing all this, he turned to look at the oil painting lying in a pool of blood beside him.

The lower edge of the painting was immersed in a viscous pool of blood, and the mahogany frame seemed to be saturated with blood, gradually becoming more and more vivid. That picture is only half finished.

On the canvas, you can clearly see Hugo's lifelike face, almost giving the illusion that the person in the painting is alive, but the part below the shoulders is still blank, as if it has not been completed.

blood?

Wen Jianyan was stunned for a moment, and in his mind, when he met a few gentlemen in the painting shop before, he caught a glimpse of the other's face, as pale as blood loss.

In other words, the portraits in this corridor are all fed by the blood of the portrait owner?

Thinking of this, Wen Jianyan's eyes fell on the oil painting in the pool of blood again.

However, the lower part of the painting was clearly soaked in Hugo's blood. For some reason, the oil painting was still in a semi-finished state.

Could it be that it must flow directly from the body?

Thinking like this, Wen Jianyan squatted down and picked up the painting from the ground.

It is obviously a big one, but the weight is not heavy, and it even looks a little light.

He brought the painting to the unconscious Hugo, and pressed his face on the wound he had just dealt with without changing his face.

Even though he was still in a coma, Hugo's body was still shaken violently, and his brows could not help but wrinkle tightly on his pale face that had lost too much blood, looking extremely painful.

With fresh, hot blood gushing out of his wound, the mahogany frame became more and more vivid. Seeing this, Wen Jianyan couldn't help but hold her breath slightly.

There was a thick, suffocating smell of blood floating in the dark corridor.

Under Wen Jianyan's gaze, the half-finished picture was slowly being completed automatically. In the portrait, the part below Hugo's shoulders was filled up bit by bit with invisible brushstrokes.

Wen Jianyan breathed a sigh of relief.

It seems. I guessed right.

The painting had to be drawn directly with blood flowing directly from the wound. At the same time, however, a new question came to mind again.

Wen Jianyan frowned slightly.

If

If the place where he fell now was just a certain image left in the past, then there should not be such a situation that Hugo himself could not decipher.

Wen Jianyan held the frame with one hand, turned her head and glanced around.

There was a dead silence in the corridor, except for himself and Hugo, who was unconscious at his feet, there was no other figure.

Wen Jianyan lowered her head and carefully kicked Hugo's arm:

Hey! Hey! Wake up!

Perhaps due to excessive blood loss, Hugo remained unconscious and did not wake up.

However, in the current situation, Wen Jianyan had to start to doubt

Is it really just a video from the past that he is entering now? In fact, in the mask shop, he has already had a similar question.

You must know that the real coins in his hand were obtained from the real copy, but he was able to spend them in the image smoothly, and after he tentatively paid, he found that the number of real coins in his hand had indeed decreased. This matter itself is a bit strange, so after leaving the mask shop, Wen Jianyan will give Hugo suggestion, in addition to using it as a reward, it is also mixed with a bit of tentative meaning.

Explore the nature of the area you're in right now.

And now, every clue, without the slightest details, seems to be pointing in the same direction—

There is more than just a image of the past here.

Over time, the bloody smell got worse. Then, strange phenomena began to happen.

On both sides of the dark corridor, the motionless portraits began to become restless. The pale faces moved slowly, and the pair of gloomy eyes looked in this direction. I wonder if it was an illusion.

Wen Jianyan pulled away from her contemplation and looked around vigilantly.

I don't know if it was an illusion, he always felt that there was some kind of cold and greedy malice in these eyes, like hunger.

Under the gaze of countless eyes, he couldn't help feeling horrified.

Soon it was more than just sight that was disturbing.

Under the illumination of the weak light, the people in some oil paintings are becoming blurry little by little, like disappearing from the oil paintings, or

came out.

One after another.

Those pale faces full of malice disappeared from the oil paintings, and in the mahogany frames of different shades, the canvas that originally presented a complete human shape gradually turned into a cold mirror. However, no image can be reflected on the mirror.

On the contrary, there is only a bottomless darkness behind it, like empty black holes leading to an unknown world.

Da da da.

Footsteps came from all directions.

Wen Jianyan's hair stood on end, and he felt the urge to run away if he wanted to pull his leg.

He knew why Hugo was so badly injured in this corridor, and why the gentleman and Anis were so cautious. Even though the two top eleven acted together, they still acted cautiously and did not dare to do anything. Any outrageous move will even cause them to be pitted twice because of too many scruples.

He gritted his teeth, lowered his head, and looked at the oil painting in his hand.

The painting has entered the final stage.

The mahogany picture frame is bright and thick, as if blood can flow down from it.

In the portrait, Hugo's face is lifelike, and his face has a skin-like texture. Even his eyes seem to have a look, and he stares out of the painting without saying a word. Below, the overlapping palms are emerging from the picture little by little. This is the last blank in the picture.

It's coming soon.

Wen Jianyan's heartbeat gradually intensified, as if it was about to jump out of her throat.

However, when the painting was slowly completed, the sound of footsteps around it became denser and more rapid, and it seemed that countless unknown and terrifying beings were coming from the concave surface, approaching this direction faster and faster!

Wen Jianyan was dripping with cold sweat on her forehead, and subconsciously tightened her fingers.

Painting is complete!

He suddenly picked up the painting and turned around as fast as he could.

However, he was still too slow.

The sound of footsteps had already approached his side, as if it had sounded just a few steps away, and a coolness rushed straight from behind. Wen Jianyan realized immediately. It's too late.

The ghost is behind.

Without warning, the footsteps stopped.

There was a dead silence in my ears, as if nothing had happened just now.

The whole corridor was silent again, and Wen Jianyan could only hear her own rapid breathing and panting. He opened his eyelids cautiously.

It was pitch black all around, and I couldn't see anything.

The flashlight lay at his feet, emitting a faint light, but it had little effect.

However, both the footsteps and the heavy shadows all disappeared at that moment without a trace.

Safe?

still?

Now is not the time to think about that.

Wen Jianyan didn't have time to think about it, and quickly rushed towards the wall beside it, and then put the painting in her hand on the wall -

Although there are no hooks on the extension wall, the moment when the back side of the oil painting is attached to the wall, it is firmly hung on it. It seems to be integrated with the wall, attracted by some invisible attraction. He grabbed it forcefully and forcibly separated it from Wen Jianyan's hand.

On the screen, Hugo's figure is gradually fading.

like other paintings.

At the moment when it merged with the wall, Hugo's portrait also became a mirror, and it was pitch black beneath the cold and smooth surface.

Is this a success?

Wen Jianyan blinked, a little unsure for a moment. He leaned a little closer and looked into the dark frame.

It was dark in the depths of the picture, and nothing could be seen.

It's not like there's nothing at all

Wen Jianyan seemed to be attracted by something in the picture, and involuntarily leaned over again.

It wasn't pure, nihilistic black, on the contrary, there was some kind of weird fluid flowing in it, and it seemed to be flowing slowly under his gaze. This material seems to be inexplicably familiar.

Wen Jianyan took a step back slowly and cautiously opened the distance from the mirror.

He glanced at the other paintings.

Well, not much difference.

That was probably a success.

Wen Jianyan turned towards this direction, ready to leave this ominous place.

However, as soon as he turned his head, the whole person froze.

Everything seems to be the same as when he just left, but it seems to have undergone earth-shaking changes.

Darkness seems to cut some.

Wen Jianyan could barely see the surrounding space.

Outside the place where he just stood, the dense beds around him were all shadows. They were shoulder to shoulder, motionless, standing stiff and straight, as if they were forcibly stopped halfway through. The pale faces and empty eyes all symbolize their identities.

ghost.

Hugo was still lying unconscious on the ground, blood pooling under him, motionless and lifeless.

And beside Hugo stood a man.

Or

god?

The black-haired, golden-eyed man stood aside, the spell-like lines swaying across his pale and cold skin, extending under the robes of black mist, he lowered his eyes expressionlessly, watching the lying Humans dying at their feet.

Wen Jianyan:

An intense burning sensation emerges from beneath the skin.

For some reason, he felt a strange danger.

Seemingly feeling Wen Jianyan's gaze, the other party slowly raised his eyes and looked over.

Wen Jianyan had a thorn on his back.

Gan.

Why do I feel like I've been caught cheating?