The sea of memories collapsed, and every drop of rain was the Painter's eye. Combined with his special ability, he held an absolute advantage within the Ghost School. No wonder Chang Wenyu didn't dare confront the Painter head-on.
The man in the blood mist flew swiftly toward the teaching building reflected in the mirror, but the Painter stood rooted to the spot. He gazed at the heart of the storm, and from the wounds across his body, black arms unfurled outward in every direction, revealing the last patch of intact skin on his chest.
Even during the fierce battle just now, the Painter had kept an arm covering this piece of skin. Without anyone noticing, he had kept it hidden from nearly everyone.
This was the only unblemished spot on his entire body—a testament to how brutal the clash between the Red-clothed had been.
Hiding within the storm of blood mist, the man reached the mirror with ease. No one blocked him. Everything was going almost too smoothly.
A faint sense of unease stirred in his heart. He looked back and saw the Painter peeling off the last piece of "canvas" from his body.
"He saw me?"
The seed of dread took root and sprouted, quickly growing into a thorned vine that crept across his entire being.
The man's speed surged the instant that "canvas" was torn away, his figure shifting and flickering at a blinding pace.
He was like a nightmare—without a fixed shape, appearing differently to whoever looked at him.
The Painter's bloodstained fingers hovered above the "canvas." His eyes were pitch-black, yet he held back from making a stroke for a long, long time.
"You… aren't a ghost?"
Rain poured down in sheets. The Painter's eyes seemed to have seen something, and he uttered a strange sentence.
The moment those words left his lips, the man at the heart of the blood-red storm became even more frenzied. He abandoned his human appearance entirely, melting completely into the crimson storm. He whipped up the blood mist for hundreds of meters around the Ghost School, hammering against the mirror in the most violent manner possible.
The Painter had seen what he truly looked like, and he had also guessed the location of the door.
"You wear a mask, using someone else's body as a disguise. What exactly are you hiding beneath that skin?" The Painter's eyes had turned entirely black—his whites had vanished completely, making him look utterly terrifying.
Things seemed to have taken an unexpected turn. No one knew what the Painter had actually seen that could shock him so deeply.
An endless stream of blood mist drifted out from the blood-red city. That place appeared to be the source of the mist, and every power the man in the storm possessed was connected to blood mist. Of course, it was also possible he was deliberately concealing his true identity, intentionally using only these abilities.
On the ground, the tide of blood surged violently. In the sky, the rainstorm of memories poured down. A storm swept through the Ghost School, dragging everyone into it with no place to hide.
As the mirror fragments in the sky kept shattering, the Ghost School itself began to deteriorate. Bloodstains faded from the walls, windows were smashed, doors were violently kicked open. Countless students of the Ghost School recovered their lost memories, and they were swallowed by the storm amid bitterness and bewilderment.
As memories awakened, more and more students chose to join Chen Ge's group in order to survive—even a few half-body Red-clothed among them.
Within the blood-mist storm, the Ghost School teetered on the verge of collapse. Apart from the top-tier Red-clothed, no one could guarantee they wouldn't be harmed.
Being alone in the Ghost School was extremely dangerous. Only by gathering together and resisting as a unit could one improve the chances of survival.
Apart from Chen Ge's party, there were several other locations within the Ghost School where large numbers of students had congregated.