Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Terrifying Painting

Xiao Zi, having grown up in his previous life as a proper citizen under the red flag, had certainly taken a few calligraphy classes. Even so, his skills were merely average. But things were different now; he could fully control the energy within his body to guide the brush in his hand. This meant that what appeared to be an effortless stroke was actually executed with immense, deliberate control, granting him a level of brushwork that could rival the great masters. Of course, the teacher and the principal knew nothing of this. They simply stood transfixed, staring at the characters Xiao Zi had just written. They looked at the calligraphy, then back at the calm and composed Xiao Zi. The speech they had prepared was now impossible to deliver. Compared to the principal’s own calligraphy, it was no exaggeration to say that one was in the heavens and the other in the abyss. One was illegible and even somewhat ugly, while the other was impeccably neat, instinctively evoking a sense of aesthetic appreciation. To claim this was inferior to the principal’s work...

The atmosphere grew awkward; for a long moment, no one spoke. Yet, facing this, Xiao Zi remained unfazed. He stared intensely into the principal’s eyes. "You are now deeply impressed by me, believing I am the most outstanding student this school has seen in centuries. You are determined to exhaust all your resources to build my reputation and want me to represent the school in the upcoming competition." Having finished, a faint smile appeared on his face: "Right?" The principal had been bewildered at first, but the moment Xiao Zi finished, his expression went blank for a second before he nodded, "Ah, yes, yes, yes." And just like that, Xiao Zi successfully transformed from a student with no presence in this school of geniuses into its most brilliant star. Naturally, with Xiao Zi around, this would not be the only unexpected event to occur.

Soon after, a transfer student arrived—a transfer student with an Oriental face. In this world, because of the Great Xia Empire, an Oriental face signified high status and nobility. Some people hated Oriental faces primarily out of envy, jealousy, and spite; generally speaking, most people in this world instinctively felt that anyone with such features must have something special about them. This was hardly surprising, as the influence of the Great Xia Empire in this world was immense, having remained strong and unyielding for thousands of years. Legend had it that during a period of dynastic change, when national strength had waned, a coalition of other nations sought to move against Great Xia. The result was that Great Xia, using a minimal force, took on dozens of countries single-handedly, won a resounding victory, and imposed varying degrees of sanctions on them. From that day on, the whole world was stunned, and Great Xia became a nation that no one dared to provoke. Over thousands of years, this mindset had become deeply ingrained, and the small nations surrounding Great Xia benefited from this, for even if they were not powerful themselves, relying on Great Xia brought them endless advantages.

Some people from other Eastern nations even made a living by impersonating Great Xia citizens in foreign lands to swindle others. Whether this particular person with an Oriental face was actually from Great Xia was unknown, nor did anyone know why he had come to this school. Thus, as everyone was filled with curiosity about this stranger, it was the man himself who spoke first. "Hello there, beauty. My name is Wang Hui, from Ling City in the Great Xia Empire. What is your name?" Once these words were out, everyone was shocked, staring blankly at Wang Hui, not expecting him to truly be from Great Xia. They didn't doubt it—after all, they were students, and personal information was recorded in their files; there was no point in lying. The girl he addressed was so startled her face lost its color, never imagining that this center of attention would approach her first. She was a beauty with gorgeous blonde hair and blue eyes. Moreover, as a genius pursuing art, she possessed a unique charm that other beauties lacked, which left Wang Hui quite infatuated. This self-proclaimed "god of the lower body" had already mentally added this girl to his future harem.

"I... I am Locas." "Ah, I swear that is the most beautiful name I have ever heard." Wang Hui said, raising an eyebrow, "Just as beautiful as you are." The line was delivered without a hint of awkwardness, making Locas blush. "Really?" "Absolutely!" No sooner had Wang Hui finished speaking than a commotion erupted: "Fernanda is dead! Fernanda is dead!" This news immediately grabbed everyone's attention. The man who had become the top genius based on a single painting was actually dead? For some reason, they felt a sense of grim satisfaction. Wang Hui seemed to realize something; he stood up, preparing to leave, and added as he walked away, "Let's talk later, that..." he paused, "Anyway, let's talk later." Locas: "..." This guy had definitely forgotten her name!

In the center of the school, a crowd had already gathered; many were even pulling out sketchpads to draw. Directly above the crowd stood a clock tower, a very tall clock tower. Hanging from it was a corpse. The blood was streaming from the corpse's eyes and nose, the sight of death utterly gruesome. This man, who until recently had been the infinitely glorious top genius, had died in such a miserable fashion only a short while later. Before long, the principal arrived, and when he saw what had happened, he felt as if the sky were collapsing. For days, he had exhausted all his connections to build up Fernanda’s influence, bragging to the point of absurdity, just waiting for the guy to bring massive benefits to the school and himself—yet he never expected the boy to end up dead right here. "Who! Who did this!" The usually dignified principal ignored his reputation entirely, shouting in fury. "Principal, don't be angry. Looking at it, it seems to be a suicide..." "Suicide? Are you kidding? His future was bright; would a man like that commit suicide?" The principal was furious to the extreme. He was about to say more when he was interrupted by a voice. "There's a painting here!"

They looked over to see someone running toward them, clutching a painting, appearing extremely agitated. "What's the situation?" "It's Fernanda. We found it in his dorm. It seems he... he painted it before the incident." After saying this, the man exhaled a long breath and wiped sweat from his face for no apparent reason, "Several students were scared faint by what's in the painting." The principal took the painting, but upon seeing its contents, his pupils contracted, and he collapsed straight to the ground. "The principal has been scared faint! Someone help!" The crowd erupted in chaos. What? The principal was scared faint? What did that have to do with them? They only cared about what kind of painting could possibly terrify the principal into unconsciousness. The crowd rushed toward the painting like madmen, everyone desperate to catch a glimpse. As the people at the front finally saw the painting, they were all too terrified to move. Yet, the more they reacted this way, the more it piqued others' curiosity. People are just like that; curiosity can often defeat the fear of the unknown. However, everyone who saw the painting regretted it without exception. Finally, Wang Hui walked calmly up to the painting and picked it up with composure. "This painting... there is something wrong with it."