Flames ignited from the bottom of the picture frame, gradually devouring the room.
Qian Cangyi was about to step back when he felt a scorching heat wave hitting him from behind.
The sneering laughter grew closer and more piercing.
Qian Cangyi turned around and saw the first officer of the Flying Bird, engulfed in flames.
The first officer seemed to be screaming, but his throat produced no sound.
The flames swallowed the entire room, as if descending into hell.
A skull in the painting reached out toward Qian Cangyi with both hands, then grabbed the frame, as if planning to climb out from the painting.
"Could it be another illusion?" Qian Cangyi gritted his teeth, his forehead already covered in sweat.
To be precise, calling it an illusion was not quite appropriate.
If it were an illusion, a person within it could simply do nothing and naturally would not get hurt.
