Wang Yu's last stroke fell, and he stood up satisfied, gently shaking the drawing paper in his hand, allowing the freshly completed portrait to unfurl and hang in the air.

He carried the portrait step by step towards Liu Yang.

As the portrait swung lightly in the air, the lines on it seemed to come alive, every detail vividly horrifying and nauseating.

The sunken cheeks looked corroded by time, the furrows filled with despair; the shriveled chest had lost the inflation of life, as if the organs had been emptied of warmth; the withered limbs resembled dehydrated old tree roots, leaving only their jagged outlines; and those hollow eyes had no color, like two dead holes.

Liu Yang stared wide-eyed, his entire body stiff in the chair, unblinkingly watching the portrait.

As the portrait shook, it appeared to him as if the decayed corpse in the picture had been reawakened, emerging in a twisted and terrifying manner, staggering and on the verge of collapse, crashing into his embrace.

The terrifying scene made him shiver all over, his stomach surged with irrepressible nausea, and his throat convulsed.

However, bizarrely, besides the instinctive fear, there was also an indescribable... familiarity?

But how could this rotten corpse, with no discernible features, be someone he recognized?

Crash——

The trembling paper and the horrifying rotten corpse crashed into Liu Yang's body, making him feel as if he were electrocuted, wanting to shove the corpse away, yet his hands uncontrollably embraced the painting.

Tightly, with his arms around it, he held the painting, as if doing so could cram the corpse from the painting into his own shriveled chest.

As if doing so, the corpse in the painting could be brought to life within him.

"I…"

Liu Yang's eyes were blank and bewildered, as he slowly lowered his head, the world before him seemed to change drastically in an instant.

In his arms, there was only the painting he had torn apart, and the decayed corpse that had walked out from it was gone.

Before he could catch his breath, a strong stench assaulted his nostrils.

It was as if a long-blocked nasal passage suddenly cleared, the smell so pungent and close, it felt as though it emanated from his own body.

Liu Yang's pupils contracted sharply, becoming as thin as the tip of a needle. He saw himself sitting on the chair, that shriveled chest, those withered limbs, and the foul-smelling... himself.

"Me... myself?"

Liu Yang's head felt like it was about to split, as an extremely horrifying thought exploded in his mind.

His mouth twisted, emitting a dry and strange human voice, like a long-silent person suddenly howling: "The rotten corpse is me?!!"

A voice torn through the fog of his mind, answering him: "This is your portrait. Take one last look before you die, at your true self."

This answer was so absurd and horrifying, Liu Yang couldn't believe it, but blood flowed from the hollow black eye sockets on his face, and he wept silently, without tears.

Liu Yang laboriously raised his head, his blood-crying eye sockets fixed on the slowly approaching Wang Yu, his lips trembling as he stuttered with all his strength: "Wang Yu, I... I... what's happening to me?"

Wang Yu's expression was calm and indifferent, his pen turning lightly in his hand, the tip gently touching Liu Yang's throat, then slowly, gently but steadily pushing it in.

Liu Yang seemed to feel no pain, his gaze stayed fixed on Wang Yu, indifferent to everything else.

Upon seeing the painting, Liu Yang had awakened from the dream of life, and how could the dead resist death again!

"Don't be afraid, you've only woken up and remembered your truest self."

Wang Yu slowly withdrew the pen, the blood spurting out, soaking Liu Yang's desiccated shell and the torn painting red.

"Most people never truly live from birth to death, but you're different. I helped you come back to life before dying, to help you truly die," Wang Yu said seriously.

Liu Yang tilted his head back, allowing the blood from his neck to splash on his face and into his eyes, the dead black holes once again lit up by the color of life.

"Thank... you...!"

Liu Yang's voice was dry and weak, his two black hole-like eyes, after the blood color faded, turned a ghastly white.

Wang Yu gently closed Liu Yang's eyes and turned to the startled and speechless Wang Xu.

"You... you... stay back." Wang Xu stared straight at Wang Yu, tongue-tied, completely understanding nothing of what had transpired.

Wang Yu squatted down slowly, lightly pulling the corner of Wang Xu's clothes, using it to wipe the blood off the pen tip.

He softly asked again: "I believe Liu Yang didn't leak the information to others, so I rewarded him by waking him up from his dream."

"And you, did you deceive Liu Yang, did you sell the information to others?"

Wang Xu shook his head frantically, his face pale, teeth chattering: "I didn't, I only told Liu, really, spare me....."

Wang Yu confirmed the other's honesty, smiling, as he pulled out a bottle from the corner of the sofa.

The bottle was transparent, the size of a pinky, half filled with azure blue liquid, gently shaking and casting a dreamy glow.

"T-37 Hallucinogen, also called Awakening Liquid, or Happiness Water?"

"You like this stuff because when you drink it, you can temporarily forget your troubles and worries, as if in paradise, right?"

Wang Yu asked softly, not seeming at all like someone who had just committed murder, rather like a patient doctor asking his patient.

However, patient Wang Xu felt no warmth, only that he had fallen into an ice cave, stiffly nodding.

Wang Yu suddenly extended his hand, tightly clutching Wang Xu's throat, his tone sincere: "You're wrong, T-37 Hallucinogen can't save you. The only way to permanently escape troubles and sorrow is through death."

Click!

A slight snap, Wang Xu's lifeless body collapsed onto the sofa, his mouth gaping open, as if in his final moment of life, he wanted to express gratitude to his benefactor for helping him escape the world of suffering.

Wang Yu remained calm, his voice devoid of any fluctuation: "No thanks needed."

Knock, knock, knock——

A brief knock at the door sounded.

Wang Yu unhurriedly wiped the blood from his face with table napkins before opening the door.

Outside, a varied group of monstrous figures crowded the narrow corridor under dim lights, appearing as a throng of demons and monsters crawling from the abyss: the Evil Tiger, Sheep Head, Blood Fox, Pig Head, Snake Face, and Hyena.

"Sixth Brother, you forgot your mask." Blood Fox pulled out a mask from his coat, handing it over.

Wang Yu accepted it, slowly covering his face with the mask, shaped as a Niu's head, simple and expressionless, with six drawn eyeballs on its forehead.

"I'll lead the way." Niu resumed his usual reticence.

Hyena was the first to follow, with Snake Face and Evil Tiger close behind, Sheep Head bringing up the rear, while Blood Fox and Pig Head lingered a moment, turning to enter the room of the dead.

"Seriously, Sixth Brother gets forgetful during painting, he ignored Second Sister's instruction again, stabbed someone to death with the pen, honestly..."

Hong Ya, wearing the Blood Fox mask, lightly leaped several meters, landing beside Liu Yang's body without a sound, without leaving a single footprint.

With just a wave of her fingers, the skin and flesh of the latter's neck opened up, the entire head pulled off like a ball, striking the wall and then bouncing to the ground with a dull thud.

The grotesque Pig Head, Zhao Zhixin, scanned the room, his entire body cracking as it shrunk suddenly, turning into a dwarf.

He entered the room, carefully collecting the painting scraps and blood-stained napkins from the floor, placing them into a prepared garbage bag...

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