From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

As they reached the stairwell, they saw a hunched figure pushing open the studio door.

By the moonlight streaming through the studio window, Edmund saw the figure with its head bowed, its body unnaturally supported by its limbs, and he could already smell the strong, earthy odor.

Edmund held his breath, his finger on the trigger, the muzzle steadily aimed at the figure.

A hand suddenly pressed down on his shoulder.

Xingjian shook his head at him, put his index finger to his lips, and gestured with his eyes not to make any rash moves. Then he took the lead and approached the studio.

But he quickly shouted and rushed towards the stairwell: "He's trying to run! Chase him!"

When Edmund rushed into the studio, he realized why Starsword was so nervous—the uninvited guest of the night was already standing on the windowsill, about to escape.

Just then, the hunched monster turned around, and the moonlight revealed a terrifying true face: a withered old man with protruding teeth, pointed ears, a wrinkled face covered in white hair. His eyes glowed green in the moonlight, and his pupils were vertical slits like those of some nocturnal beast.

A fleeting glimpse, and then the monster leaped out of the open window, causing the Star Sword that followed to miss its target.

"Damn it!" Star Sword punched the window as he watched the monstrous spider-like creature fly across the grass on all fours.

Edmund quickly glanced around the studio and noticed that the drawer of the hidden compartment at the bottom of the storage shelf had been fully pulled out and was completely empty.

"The artwork is gone," he said to the rapids that followed him.

Xingjian turned around and said, "They're heading towards the cemetery. Let's go after them. Oh, and we should also bring our painting supplies."

The three of them quickly went downstairs and headed straight for the cemetery. The speed of Rapids and Starsword was almost like that of sprinters, and Edmund had to activate "Swift Steps".

With a subtle dizziness, he felt his thinking speed unconsciously slow down, but his limb coordination and reaction speed instantly soared to a new level.

The three of them made their way to the cemetery under the moonlight. The sea breeze blew from the right, carrying salty moisture and a faint smell of decay.

About five minutes later, they burst through the iron gates of Greygull Town Cemetery.

The cemetery was unusually tranquil under the moonlight. The three slowed their pace, searching for clues among the crooked tombstones.

Near the cliff, in the old cemetery area, the rushing water whispered, "Over there."

Edmund looked in the direction she pointed—

The moonlight illuminated a leaning tombstone, making it appear white, upon which sat a hunched figure.

It held a stack of drawings in its hands, turning them over with its paws, its movements surprisingly gentle. The moonlight illuminated its entirety without reservation.

Its back is high and bulging, its wrinkled gray skin clings to its skull and is covered with sparse white hair, and its fingers end in thickened, blackened claws.

But what's most chilling is that this humanoid creature has a canine-like snout, a mouth full of sharp, interlocking teeth, and pointed, erect ears.

The moment Edmund saw the monster, his pupils contracted sharply, and a long-buried memory surged forth from the depths of his mind.

Those were memories that didn't belong to him, but to Lane Hall.

The images flashed through Edmund's mind like fast-forwarded film reels—

The young art student stood in the art museum, his heart pounding wildly at the paintings before him. An unprecedented passion, like a lightning bolt, shattered his long-suppressed desires…

The young man found the painter's address and visited him with reverence and enthusiasm. The middle-aged painter, with his burning gaze, seemed intent on showing him his "real works"—some eerie and alluring paintings. Afterward, he even shared his sources of inspiration…

The young man was led through an entrance into the underground. Besides decaying bones and soil, this place also housed the souls of the dead. Countless voices whispered in his ears…

A pure and inhuman madness ignited his ordinary heart, and he painted seven pictures, perhaps not even his own. Finally, he was captured, diagnosed with "divine ecstasy syndrome," followed by exorcism, purification, an iron bed, tranquilizing oil, and that fool's ship—

Edmund was suddenly pulled out of the flood of memories and found himself kneeling on the ground, his back soaked in cold sweat.

Now he was certain that the "painter" that the body's former owner, Lane Hall, had found was this very thing.

After being lured underground, his consciousness was invaded by the undead, and in his madness, he drew those strange paintings, which is the real reason why he was later sent to the Ship of Fools.

Star Sword's voice pulled him back to reality: "Utopia? Are you alright?"

"It's alright." Edmund suppressed his surging emotions and gripped the gun firmly. "I know who this guy is. He's Heinrich Picker."

The name brought back many of Ryan's memories to his mind, and he could feel a part of "himself" trembling uncontrollably.

Jiliu kept his eyes fixed on the figure examining the drawings on the tombstone: "Ghouls... I've heard of monsters like that, but I never expected to see one here."

Edmund's gaze locked onto the painter's location: "The important thing is—it's waiting for us."

Indeed, the way that thing sat on the tombstone looking through the drawings was far too composed, as if it had known all along that the pursuers would arrive.

After confirming that Edmund was alright, Starsword stood up and looked at the ghoul.

"Then let's go and see how to complete the final step of the mission."

When the three approached within about twenty meters, it slowly put down the drawing in its hand, tilted its mutated head, and looked at them.

"You...have arrived."

Xingjian spoke first: "Mr. Heinrich Pick, it seems we have finally found you. Your painting 'Twilight, Tide, Cliff' is truly an unforgettable masterpiece."

The ghoul tilted its head, its face, covered in withered skin, twisted into a grin revealing sharp fangs. Its voice sounded like someone baring their teeth after inhaling helium.

"That painting must be one of my early works. As for now... ha, it's just a piece of junk."

Its green eyes swept over the crowd: "So, you felt it, didn't you? That desire to pour the 'truth' of the soul, rather than what the eyes see, onto the canvas?"

Edmund felt a slight shudder emanating from the depths of Ryan Hall's remaining consciousness.

"We saw the sketches you left in your studio," Starsword asked calmly. "You saw the scenes in those paintings right here, didn't you?"

Heinrich let out a low chuckle, gently stroking the drawing in his arms with his paws.

"In all the forgotten corners, in all the breaths and whispers buried by the living, where the living and the dead meet."

It waved its arm, which was covered with sparse white hair: "The echoes of the past slumber beneath this place, and restless souls await vibrant souls with whom they can converse. I lent them my spirituality, and they lent me their inspiration."

"That's quite a generous deal." Her tone revealed her disdain for such a statement.