The white-haired old man in the painting, dressed as a traveler in a tawny robe and a pointed hat, lay curled up motionless in a corner of the ground.
His face still bore a petrified expression of fear, as if frozen in the last moment of being trapped inside the painting, his arms tightly clutching a backpack that partly exposed some scrolls from its side pockets.
"Mage Carmen?"
Chen Lun stood in front of the easel, calling out in a deep voice.
He wiped the bloodstains from his face with a handkerchief, deliberately controlling his gaze to avoid looking at the terrifying figure in a yellow robe on the canvas.
However, silence pervaded the surroundings, the old man in the painting showed no response.
Chen Lun furrowed his brows, unable to determine whether Carmen could sense the external disturbance; the only certainty was that the other party was still alive, otherwise the A-rank mission he had taken from Miss Fleurette would have been deemed a failure long ago.
