Zhu Long had another episode. His expression was twisted in agony, his eyes brimming with bloodshot veins, but what struck them as strange was that beneath the crimson of his eyes, mixed in with all those red lines, were tears.
He looked like he was in tremendous pain.
Working together, they dragged Zhu Long toward a less populated area, though the commotion still drew a few glances. Fortunately, no one followed them.
"Zhu Long overturned the dissection table in the experimental building. The building manager will probably come looking for us. But that's not even the worst part—Zhu Long carved another 'Zhu' character on the back of that table. That character could alert the people running this school!"
"The west campus looks perfectly normal on the surface because something is maintaining order there, funneling all the negative emotions over to the east campus. If those managers see the extra 'Zhu' character behind the dissection table, they'll realize a student has a problem."
He quickened his pace. Chen Ge wasn't about to gamble on his opponent being stupid. All he could do now was get away from the scene as fast as possible.
"Teacher, let's get him to the infirmary. He looks really sick. This kid must have hidden his real condition before joining the club—he might even have a history of mental illness!"
"You think he's mentally ill?" They were in the middle of fleeing, and Chen Ge didn't have the patience to keep up the act of being a kind, gentle teacher.
He tilted his head slightly, casting a glance at Zhou Tu. A smile sat on his face, but when Zhou Tu saw it, he felt a chill seep deep into his bones. This Teacher Bai seemed to have a split personality—warm one moment, then unnervingly remote the next.
"N-no, I'm just guessing. A perfectly normal person suddenly screaming about murder and stuff—that's just not normal." Zhou Tu sidled a step closer to Wang Yicheng.
"Zhou Tu, by any measure, you're in no position to judge him. If you ask me, you're the one in this club who's the most deeply unwell." Chen Ge paused briefly, maintaining his smile. "Of course, aside from me."
"What are you talking about?" Zhou Tu was equal parts angry and afraid of Chen Ge, and his tone wasn't as steady as before.
"Even if I explained it to you now, you wouldn't believe me." Chen Ge gripped Zhu Long without looking up. "Once I take you into the art club and you see the scenes from your dreams, you'll probably end up scarier than he is."
"Wh-why?" Zhou Tu could tell Chen Ge wasn't joking.
"Because Zhu Long is only one part of this painting's background. You, on the other hand, are the one holding the brush." Chen Ge had spent years scraping by in the real world and had endured the hellish trials of the Black Phone. His aura was nothing like these kids'.
Zhou Tu couldn't meet Chen Ge's gaze. His right hand twitched slightly—his muscles had already "recalled" certain things before his brain had, the kind of reflex that only develops in someone who's painted at high intensity for a long time.
Clutching his head with both hands, Zhu Long wretched and dry-heaved, his eyeballs bulging outward, tear tracks still streaking his cheeks.
"This area isn't remote enough. Let's head for the wall." Chen Ge directed Zhou Tu and Zhang Ju, and the three of them worked together to restrain Zhu Long.
"Teacher, are we really not taking him to the infirmary?" Zhang Ju was a bit worried too. He looked at Chen Ge's calm expression and couldn't shake the feeling that Chen Ge had never planned to save Zhu Long at all—just find a quiet spot to bury him.
"The infirmary is for treating illnesses. He isn't sick. He's just taking back what belongs to him." Chen Ge needed helpers—people who could genuinely be of use. "Every demand comes with a price. Once he regains his memory, he'll be grateful to us."