Chapter 710: The Artwork "Voyeurism"

A wooden table sat in the dim room. Against a backdrop of cracked, peeling plaster, a pair of severed arms reached out through a barred window.

That was all the photograph showed. At first glance, nothing about it stood out.

But a closer look revealed that the arms reaching out the window had been sawn off at the shoulders. The cuts were jagged, and more importantly, they were still bleeding.

Dark red blood mixed with pale bone fragments. Those arms hadn't been chopped off an anatomical specimen or a corpse—they had been sawn raw from a living person!

The wounds had not yet clotted, and the blood had not yet dried. That madman had used a fresh pair of arms to create his art.

It was too real—so real it made my blood run cold.

I stared at the photo on the phone, paying special attention to the title of the artwork: Redemption.

If the Painter truly possessed an ounce of artistic talent beneath his bestial nature, then this piece had to hold a deeper meaning. He wanted to express some thought of his through this cruel, despairing image.

"Why would a cold-blooded, sick Painter name this photo Redemption? Who is he trying to redeem? Or rather, who needs to be redeemed?" The photograph had been taken from a tricky angle. The Painter's handling of light and shadow was exquisitely precise. The image was suffused with an ashen, despairing tone that dragged the viewer right into the scene, making it feel as if those severed arms were right in front of them.

Tearing my gaze away from the severed arms, I scanned every inch of the photograph. "The room in this picture is different from the Red Building. It's weathered and completely dilapidated. Factoring in the date, this must have been taken at..."

I turned and looked through the bathroom's narrow window toward the opposite side of the Red Building. "It's over there! The Painter has been to that old complex!"

This photograph on Bai Ya'er's phone gave me two crucial pieces of information.

First, the Painter knew the Pig Cage Apartments far better than Bai Ya'er did. He had even gone into that complex—a place the locals of Jinghai viewed as deeply ominous—in broad daylight.

Second, the Painter had definitely killed before! He was a murderer!

No matter his justifications, taking another person's life was a crime. Cloaking it in the guise of art couldn't hide that fact.

"All of the Painter's works challenge the very limits of human morality. He has absolutely no regard for the law or basic decency. A man like that is incredibly dangerous." I narrowed my eyes at Bai Ya'er, who was still sprawled on the floor. She was breathtakingly beautiful, yet her mind was entirely dominated by the thrill of abuse. They shared the same twisted tastes; perhaps only an extreme lunatic like Teacher Zhu could command such fanatical devotion from her.

I took a deep breath, pinned Bai Ya'er's back down with one leg, and opened the final batch of photos in the encrypted folder.

This collection had been updated every single day, and every photo featured the exact same subject: Bai Ya'er.

Shot from the perspective of an observer, the photographs documented everything that happened in Bai Ya'er's life within the Red Building. The title of this collection was "Voyeurism."

There were countless pictures, each marked with a date. From the very first day Bai Ya'er had arrived at the Red Building, the Painter had saved at least one or more photographs of her every day.

At first, I simply thought the Painter's twisted tastes were beyond comprehension. But after swiping through a few more pictures, I realized the truth was completely different from what I had imagined.

These photos weren't just a record of Bai Ya'er's daily life. They had also inadvertently captured something truly terrifying.

For instance, a month ago, a blackout-drunk Bai Ya'er had been escorted back to the apartment by a tall, handsome young man. The photo captured his face perfectly—his lustful, impatient expression forming a stark contrast with Bai Ya'er's pure, flawless features.

The first photo was taken from the Painter's doorway. The second was a photo of a color painting, which depicted a middle-aged man peering through a hole in a wall into the adjacent room. It was obvious the middle-aged man was the Painter himself. The peephole looked directly at a bed where the petite, slender Bai Ya'er lay as if unconscious in the muggy room, completely at the mercy of the young man's groping hands.

But it was the third photograph that truly caught me off guard. This one had been taken from inside Bai Ya'er's own apartment.

Judging by the angle, it was taken from the living room. Very little time had passed between the second and third shots, which meant the Painter also had a key to Bai Ya'er's place.

In the picture, the young man hadn't even finished tearing off Bai Ya'er's clothes, yet the photographer was already slowly creeping up on him.

Perhaps due to the shooting technique, the photograph evoked an overwhelming sense of creeping dread. Danger was silently closing in, yet the prey remained utterly oblivious.

I studied the photo, examining every detail, until my eyes locked onto the glass coffee table.

A gleam of light reflected off the smooth glass surface. I didn't know if it was an intentional choice by the Painter, or simply a careless oversight.

The glass coffee table clearly reflected a hand clutching a sharp knife!

All three photos were timestamped with the exact same date. This wasn't just simple art; it was a premeditated murder.

A chill shot straight up my spine. That young man's situation had been almost identical to my own initial encounter. We had both escorted a dead-drunk Bai Ya'er back to her apartment late at night. The only difference was that I hadn't let lust go to my head; I had remained on high alert the entire time.

Thinking back on it now, if I had done the same thing that young man did, would I have turned around only to find the Painter standing right behind me with a sharp knife?

I didn't keep Bai Ya'er's phone. Although it contained evidence of his murder, now was not the time to openly fall out with them.

I needed to assess the situation. Surviving the livestream was my top priority.

After viewing all of Teacher Zhu's works, it took a long time for my mood to calm down. He was a devil wearing human skin. I couldn't comprehend his art at all; every single photograph evoked the deepest fear and disgust in the human psyche.

I thoroughly detested the man, but at the same time, he had piqued my interest.

"Could Zhu Li be that live show streamer?" Madness and paranoia were common among live show streamers. I reached down, pulled the towel from Bai Ya'er's mouth, and spoke in a low voice. "I want to meet this Teacher Zhu. You're going to lead the way."

I wasn't asking for her opinion, but using a forceful tone that left no room for argument.

"No, it's almost midnight. We can't leave the room. If you really want to see Teacher Zhu, wait until daybreak." Bai Ya'er was a very bizarre woman. I had never seen her show an expression of genuine fear; the most she ever exhibited was a flustered nervousness. Rather than a physical model, I felt she was more like a highly skilled actress.

"There's still some time before midnight. Get up right now and take me to Zhu Li!" Hauling Bai Ya'er to her feet with one hand, I pointed at the red wooden door in the living room. "If you refuse, I'll just wait until after midnight to throw you out, and you can spend the night in the hallway alone."

"Let go, I'll go, but you have to give me a little time. Besides, I'm not even sure if Teacher Zhu is asleep. What if he doesn't open the door?" Bai Ya'er twisted her body. She knew far better than I did how dangerous it was to stay in the hallway after midnight, so she agreed decisively.

"Don't try any tricks. My patience has a limit." Letting go of her, I tossed the coat from the floor over to her. "Let's go."

Bai Ya'er threw the coat over her shoulders. After stepping out of the bathroom, she cast a glance toward the bedroom wall and stopped in front of the crimson wooden door. "I have no intention of harming you. It really is dangerous to go out there right now..."

"Cut the crap and take me to him." I couldn't get any more clues out of Bai Ya'er. In order for the livestream to go smoothly, I had to gather more information.

Pressing her cold, pale fingers against the rusted lock, Bai Ya'er reluctantly pulled the wooden door open. She was just about to turn the handle of the outer iron door when, at her touch, the iron door simply swung open.

"Someone was here?!" I clearly remembered locking the outer iron door when I came in, yet now it had opened. "Someone must have been standing outside the door just now. It might be the Painter, or it might be that unclean thing hiding in the darkness, following me all the way upstairs!"

An ominous building, bizarre tenants, strange legends—this livestream hadn't even begun yet, and it was already leaving me somewhat alarmed.

Walking ahead, Bai Ya'er noticed the unlatched iron door and cast a glance back at me. She probably assumed I had just forgotten to lock it. Given the current situation, she didn't dare say a word and obediently walked toward the Painter's room.

"Bang, bang, bang."

In the dead-silent hallway, the knocking echoed far away. Someone standing all the way down on the first floor could probably hear it clearly.

The dim light from the small room spilled into the hallway. I didn't know if it was my imagination, but the darkness both above and below us seemed to churn, as if something in it were approaching.

"The hallway of this Red Building is too eerie. We can't stay here long." The building had eleven floors in total. Bai Ya'er and the Painter lived on the fourth floor—suspended right in the middle, sandwiched by the darkness.

After several consecutive knocks, movement finally came from inside the room the Painter rented. Soon, the red-painted inner wooden door was pulled open, and a gaunt, paint-stained hand holding a key reached out.

The springs clicked, and the large lock on the iron door was opened. Through the two doors, I heard a muffled voice: "Come in."

Bai Ya'er entered directly without hesitation; she didn't seem willing to linger in the hallway for even a moment.

I followed behind her into the room. Sweeping my eyes across the space, the sight before me made me completely forget to even close the door.

Inside the room the Painter rented, the walls, the floor, and every other exposed surface were thoroughly smeared with paint, covered in patterns of the human form.

It was like stepping into a lunatic asylum. But the terrifying part was only just beginning. Right by the entrance, on the wall next to the shoe cabinet, there were lines carved by a knife. It was as if he had been creating with hatred; every cut was carved extremely deep into the wall.

"A human figure carved out with a knife?" After the carving was finished, the entire wall had been splashed with red paint. It was a shocking sight, looking as though a living person were curled up in a pool of blood.

Standing before the wall, my mind suddenly flashed back to the phone call I had received on the Live Show Phone before the livestream began.

"Smear fresh blood across the wall, paint out your likeness. Every slice, every carved line aches for you..."