Bring home the national male god of the fast-passing system

Chapter 1325 Pen and Ink End of the World (5)

The painter took advantage of the time when the yang energy was at its heaviest during the day, when his soul came out of his body, and sneaked into the cemetery from the position drawn by the master of the dragon-hunting acupuncture point, and saw the appearance of the tomb owner before he was alive. After entering the painting, after the tomb robbery is over, burn the painting to complete the painting ceremony.

The reason why the portrait is burned if it is not painted is the rule handed down by the painter's ancestors: before the money is stolen, the portrait cannot be burned, because the owner of the tomb will use money to bribe ghosts and gods to redeem his soul.After the money was stolen, the owner of the tomb had no money to bribe, so he could only wait for his soul to be burned.

This is probably another way of saying that money can pass through the gods.

While the artist was painting, the group had already started digging the hole, and when the digging was almost done, the artist had finished painting.

A group of people went down to the tomb, and the painter stood guard outside.

No one expected that the sunny day would suddenly rain.

The painter was busy looking for something to cover the painting, so as not to wet the portrait.

Unexpectedly, this time it was raining from a waterfall, the rain splashed down like a waterfall, and hit the painting with incomparable precision.

The portrait was completely smashed, and the soul of the owner of the tomb on it was all smudged and completely lost.

The painter was stunned. He has been in the industry for so many years and has never encountered such a thing.

He screamed in his heart that it was not good, and hurriedly shouted towards the entrance of the cave to come up quickly.

However, it was too late.

The mountain shook for a while, and then a gust of black air came from the entrance of the robber's cave, and only rushed to the painter's face. The painter didn't hold his breath, and was fainted by the smoke.

When he woke up, he found himself in a farmer's house in the village, and a thick-eyed girl was feeding him water.

He heard from the girl that the robbery cave collapsed, and none of the dozen or so people inside came out, all of them died.

He was dead, but he was fainted by the entrance of the cave, and he was not trapped when the robbery cave collapsed, otherwise, he might have died too.

The painter was silent. He looked at the painting brush hanging on his chest. It had changed from gold to black. He knew that it was not because of his fate, but because the brush had saved him from a disaster. Otherwise, he might have died too.

After going through this time, the painter felt that he had robbed too many tombs and provoked the anger of ghosts, which caused this disaster. This time, he had a golden pen to protect him from disasters, so he might not have such good luck next time, so he washed his hands and never looked back. Don't do tomb robbery.

Since then, he stayed in the village, married the girl with thick eyebrows and big eyes who rescued him, and lived a peaceful life. He gave birth to a few big and fat boys, married them and had children, thinking about the children and grandchildren. go down.

That painter is my grandfather.

Since I was a child, I heard my grandfather tell stories about tomb robbers and how high he was in the tomb robbers. I didn't believe it at all, and I listened to it as a story.

The reason why I don't believe in grandpa is that grandpa's paintings look like ghost drawing symbols, and he can't even tell his personal appearance.

Grandpa said, the soul is a spirit body, how can it be human-like, the soul is the most difficult to draw in the world, it is easy to draw a person, but difficult to draw a soul, you don't understand, when you reach my level, you will understand my paintings.

Later, grandpa passed away.

No one whispered those stories in my ears anymore. I was also admitted to the Academy of Fine Arts, and since then I have come into contact with different worlds. The weird stories my grandfather told were thrown into the corner by me.

until one day.

I visited a museum exhibition and saw many things dug up from the cemetery. Among them, there was a golden pen. I recognized it at a glance. It was exactly the same as the black pen in my grandfather's collection...

(End of this chapter)