From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

"Gone?" Edmund said, expressing his shock.

The young man leaned against the door frame, his gaze, which was strained to stay awake, darting back and forth between the three people. It was clear that he hadn't slept well for a while.

"Who are you? My uncle doesn't know any art school students."

Xingjian took a half step forward and politely took over the conversation.

He explained the three men's purpose in a perfectly sincere tone, subtly highlighting Lane Hall's genuine admiration for the painting while also implying that they had not come empty-handed.

But the young man just shook his head and started trying to close the door.

"Please wait a moment." Edmund reached out and stopped the door frame, opting for a more direct approach.

"I did come here because I saw Mr. Heinrich's work; that painting changed my understanding of art. If he is... no longer here, at least let me know what happened?"

The silence lasted for a moment, then a sigh came from behind the door, and then the door opened again.

"You just want to see the art studio, right? Go ahead and look around, then leave."

He led the three men through a dimly lit corridor, saying as they walked, "My name is Carl Pick, my uncle's nephew. My uncle has no other relatives. After he went missing, I came here to handle things."

"Missing?" The sound of rushing water came from the back of the line.

Carl kept walking: "He last spoke to me three months ago. Two months ago, I called the police because I couldn't reach him. The police didn't find any signs of crime and thought it was just 'running away from home'."

He led everyone through the corridor and up the stairs: "It doesn't make sense for a reclusive painter to suddenly 'run away from home' and leave his wallet in the drawer."

Edmund noticed a point in time: the voice-over mentioned that "Lane Hall saw the painting three months ago," meaning that the painter disappeared shortly after creating the work that resonated with Lane.

Star Sword then asked, "So you've been searching for him for the past two months?"

"I suppose so. Alright, now that you've finished looking around here, please leave."

Karl pushed open the half-closed wooden door at the end of the corridor and led everyone inside.

The door hinges let out a dry groan, and the entire studio unfolded before the three of them.

This is a north-facing room. A floor-to-ceiling window is mostly covered by heavy, dark curtains, with only a sliver of grayish-white light squeezing in through the gap.

The messy furnishings and the smell of turpentine and paint in the air make it easy to tell that this is a studio that may not be very tidy.

Star Sword paced slowly around the room first, while Torrent went to the window and lifted a corner of the curtain to observe the terrain outside, causing dust to dance in the expanded natural light.

Edmund seemed to have a natural familiarity with the studio environment. He stood in front of the easel and looked around, quickly noticing a gap between the bottom shelf of the storage unit and the wall.

He crouched down to examine it carefully, then reached into the gap and his fingertips touched a cold metal edge.

"There's a hidden compartment here."

Star Sword and Torrent turned around at the same time, and Karl, with his hands in his pockets, quickly approached from the doorway.

"A hidden compartment? My uncle never told me anything about a hidden compartment..." Karl's tone was both surprised and anxious.

Edmund carefully moved the items at the bottom of the shelf, revealing a wooden drawer embedded in a recess in the wall.

He opened the drawer and found a set of sketchbooks, several cans of paint, and a stack of unfinished drawings.

After everyone gathered around, Edmund picked up the sketch and carefully unfolded it.

A pencil sketch depicts a coastal cliff; an architectural sketch quickly shifts from realism to a distorted semi-abstract style.

The third picture made Edmund's face darken quickly.

This is a highly completed oil painting, depicting a cemetery under a full moon.

Silvery moonlight poured down from above, illuminating a row of irregularly arranged tombstones. In the overgrown clearing between three tombstones, several blurry shadows stood.

Three of them could be described as "human figures," while the rest were more like monsters that "grew" upwards from the ground.

Edmund saw the twisted creatures and felt a chill creep up his spine.

He could even sense that Lane Hall's remaining consciousness was curling up even tighter deep within his mind, as if it too had been touched by some kind of instinctive fear by the painting.

Xingjian leaned in from the other side: "This is no ordinary sketch; even the unfinished drafts bear a considerable influence."

As soon as he finished speaking, Edmund felt that familiar pulling sensation surge out of the drawing again.

[Currently suffering from the mental effects of "heterogeneous erosion," originating from the contaminated artwork... Exempted!]

[The artwork was infused with myths influenced by "fog" during its creation; prolonged exposure may lead to a state of persistent delirium.]

[The mental corruption effect has been exempted!]

This thing doesn't put much pressure on "exemptions," but the rapids next to it are clearly not so easy.

She quickly steadied herself by grabbing the easel with her right hand, and Xingjian's left hand immediately pressed against Jiliu's shoulder, a faint silver light reappearing in his palm.

This purification process was noticeably less efficient than the one at the art museum. The silver light rippled across the torrent three or four times before finally dispelling the corrosive effect.

Jiliu rubbed his temples: "Looks like we need to be more careful about these underhanded tricks."

Star Sword looked down at his palm, then his gaze fell on Edmund.

Edmund caught a fleeting glance, and he could roughly guess what Starsword was thinking.

Having received two exemptions, Xingjian secretly pondered his rank.

Demonstrating appropriate abilities is necessary, but it's also important not to arouse excessive doubt in teammates; Edmund kept this in mind.

Just as the two were staring at each other, Karl's slightly distorted voice came from behind: "These paintings..."

Edmund turned around and saw the painter's nephew staring at the sketch of the Full Moon Cemetery, his face turning ashen.

"My uncle... what are these... he drew?"

Karl's hands began to tremble uncontrollably, his pupils dilated rapidly, and his breathing became shallow and rapid.

The corrosive influence emanating from the artwork clearly had a far more severe impact on unprotected mortals than on superhumans.

"Mr. Pix, don't panic." Star Sword quickly stepped forward and placed his hands on Karl's shoulders.

The silver light enveloped Karl like a soft film, gradually calming his rapidly fluctuating mental state.

Karl's breathing gradually calmed down. He trembled as Starsword helped him sit on an old chair in the corner of the studio, and he held his head in his hands.

As Starsword tried to continue comforting him, Karl's pocket suddenly made a loud "bang!" sound.

Carl was so startled that he jumped up from his chair, and the three people around him quickly assumed fighting stances.