"Antichrist! Everything you have done is in vain. You are just the plaything of the Whisperer. You cannot escape the fate of failure! Just like I cannot escape today's fate!"

As he spoke, he struggled and squirmed desperately, and a piece of paper fell out of his torn pocket and fell to the ground.

Shen Feng waved his tentacles, picked up the paper, and couldn't help but narrow his eyes.

This is a sketch.

There was a man hiding in a hood and carrying a large backpack. His appearance could not be clearly seen. Behind him were giant tentacles dancing wildly, as if he were a devil from hell.

He had seen this sketch before.

But the last time I saw it, it was a photocopy. At that time, he had just returned from the apocalypse of the Gray Tide, and the New York Emperor Gang went to assassinate him, and they brought a copy of such a sketch with them.

The current sketch is obviously the original, drawn in pencil.

In the lower right corner of this painting, there is a signature:

Claudius Brendan, five years old.

At this moment, Brendan suddenly laughed wildly and said:

"Yes, this painting was painted by me! I am one of the soul children of the Purification Society! I have witnessed today's scene, just like Martha witnessed your death!"

Shen Feng followed his gaze and saw a hastily drawn sketch on the drawing board next to him.

Above, a man who looked like an Asian teenager was lying on the ground, with a small part of his head blown open by a bullet. His brains were scattered everywhere, his body was twisted, and there were things similar to waves around him.

This person's appearance can still be clearly seen from the remaining half of his face.

This painting was probably drawn unconsciously by the little girl named Martha at the last moment of being shocked.
Chapter completed!