At noon, a corner of the west city of Shanxi City.

The bungalows are lined up one after another, and the black and gray monotonous houses and walls are mixed together, which looks a bit awkward, like an unfinished abstract ink painting. The streets are not very wide and are filled with dust and potholes, like a piece of cheese that has been eroded for a long time. It is obviously not suitable for any means of transportation except for legs and feet.

Any city has its glorious side, and of course, it must also have dirty and dilapidated corners. This is inevitable, even this Shanxi City, known as the northern holy city, is no exception.

At this time, a corner of a certain street, "Does the Hansier painter live here?"

"Hansier...is that down-and-out painter. You walk along this street and the one on the innermost and left is."

"Oh, thank you aunt."

"Haha, you're welcome..."

Farewell to the kind-hearted aunt, asked the passerby to pull down the fluffy collar that covered her face tightly, and a long scar like a centipede was extremely eye-catching... Needless to say, this was naturally Borg who had just come out of the creek-by-stream tavern.

The street was not long and it soon reached its end. "The innermost left side...tsk, this should be this." Borg squinted at the dilapidated small house in front of him, nodded, stepped forward a few steps, raised his hand and knocked on the wooden door.

Bang bang bang...bang bang bang...

The knocks continued, but there was no movement inside, as if the owner was not at home. However, just as Borg frowned slightly, the door creaked open.

"Who are you?" The middle-aged man opened the door, with sunken eye sockets and thin body. He was wearing a loose robe that had been wrinkled and obviously had not been cleaned for a long time. He looked sleepy and felt sleepy.

"It doesn't matter who I am. Are you a Hansier painter?" Looking at the middle-aged man nodded subconsciously, Borg's mouth raised, and a strange sneer arc was drawn. He spread his left hand, and a few shiny gold coins were tempting. "I said features, you draw portraits. As long as I am satisfied, these five gold coins are yours."

"Uh..." The middle-aged man named Hansil was stunned at first when he heard this. Then he couldn't help but be overjoyed. Just looking at the surrounding environment, he knew that his living conditions were very bad. He could earn hardware coins with just a portrait. This was indeed a big temptation for him.

Yes, art cannot be measured by money. But sometimes, artists also need money to maintain their lives.

"No problem!" He agreed quickly at first, then scratched his head. Hansil hesitated, "Although I never doubt my painting skills, why... why did I come to me specifically? You must know that my place is very remote."

What I want is remoteness...Borg's expression was still. He did not answer this question, but pushed the door straight into: "Let's start."

"……good."

The house was messy. Painting paper and brushes were placed everywhere, and even the walls were painted with various patterns. It was indeed what a down-and-out painter should look like.

Soon, after putting up the easel, Hansil held the brush and looked at Borg. The latter pinched his chin, pondered for a moment, and said, "It's a young man, his hair is black and not long. As for his face, huh, it's very ordinary..."

Borg was frowning and recalling. When Hansil heard this, he held the brush and gestured a few times. In the end, he still couldn't start. He looked up helplessly and said, "Sir, please describe it in detail. For example, the shape of the nose, the size of the lips, and the obvious or not of the cheekbones... Also, what are his prominent characteristics?"

"Features..." Borg pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression slightly tangled, "Ordinary, very ordinary!"

“…”

"Oh, there is a characteristic." Just as Hansier's face was speechless, Borg's eyes lit up suddenly and he said with his palms, "His eyes are slenderer than ordinary people, and his pupils are black... It makes people disgusting to see."

"Length eyes, black pupils? This is not common. Good, it's a feature." Hansier's brush moved slightly, first outlined it, then carefully depicted a pair of slender eyes, and asked, "What else?"

"And it's...ordinary."

...

The progress of the portrait was not smooth, not because Hansil was not good enough. But at this time, Borg realized how difficult it was to accurately describe the annoying guy in his heart.

It’s not that I can’t remember that guy’s face Borg remembers very clearly, just like it’s engraved on the heart, with blood on every stroke. But remembering it clearly does not mean that it can be accurately expressed... Oh, that damn public face!

Fortunately, Hansil's painting skills are indeed quite good. Although it took a lot of effort, after the two of them continued to gesture and discuss, they finally successfully painted it.

"Hmph!" Just after taking a look, a fierce and fierce light suddenly flashed in Borg's eyes, he snorted coldly, and his fists were tight. Needless to say, from this reaction, you can tell that the portrait effect is very good.

On the drawing paper, there are no big or small noses, no big or small lips, no big or small ears, no big or small eyebrows... Except for the slender eyes, almost all facial features and face parts are not big or small, which is very ordinary and moderate. This is the legendary public face, which is the familiar Tang En!

After barely suppressing the inexplicable anger in his heart, Borg nodded and praised, "No, I'm very satisfied." Then he reached into Hansil's expectant gaze, as if he was about to take out the gold coins, but when he stretched out, he was a short sword. A cold light flashed, and it simply pierced into Hansil's heart.

"Sorry, your painting skills are so good that I dare not let you survive."

After staggering for a few steps, Hansil's eyes were full of confusion and pain. He leaned back, bang... and knocked over several easels. The blood instantly soaked a few pieces of drawing paper on the ground, twitched a few times, and then he remained silent.

Looking at the corpse on the ground, Borg breathed a long sigh, and the depression in his heart caused by someone had instantly dissipated a lot.

What I said just now seemed like a joke, but it was actually out of Borg's sincerity. In fact, when Hansier took over this business, he was destined to be like this. Later, I saw that Hansier's painting skills were indeed very good, so Borg naturally could not keep him. After all, if the incident happened, his portrait would undoubtedly be better drawn...

Bending over and taking the brush tightly held in Hansier's hand, Borg had no intention of dealing with the corpses on the ground. Such an introverted painter, I think, knows that he would not deal with people around him. He may only be known when the corpse smells...

Picking up a blank piece of painting paper and sweep away the debris on the table next to it. In this room where the bloody smell began to rise, Bog safely pulled over a wooden chair and sat down.

After pondering for a while, the brush swished, and the mouth murmured softly: "Tang En, a land-level warrior, proficient in easy-to-disguise, a man in the gray-clothed army... Well, should I write this?"

As soon as the brush stopped, he turned his head and thought about it. Only by indicating this identity can he naturally lead Tang En to mingle into the army and go to the front line, and the subsequent canyon affairs, so he decided to continue writing, "Oh, he has a small team in gray space... Humph, you can't escape, Mixiu... Do you want to add Joshia? She is also one of the accomplices. Tsk, no, I'm also living in a tavern by the stream for the time being, okay, okay, I'll give you a chance, haha..."

The room was dark and the smell of blood became more and more intense, but Borg, who was writing quickly, seemed to be unaware of it, murmured from time to time, or raised his head and laughed wildly, causing his body to tremble constantly... an unspeakable strange scene!

...

Half an hour later, the outer edge of Shanxicheng Church.

Borg, who covered his face again, wandered for two or three minutes, walked to a little boy playing, leaned over, spread his palms, and all kinds of colorful candies, "Little brother, can you do your uncle a favor? As long as you hand over these two pieces of paper to the uncles and aunts in the church, these candies will all belong to you."

Licking his lips and looking at these seductive candies, the little boy focused his head.

"Okay, so behaved. Uncle will reward you with one first. Well, get it, go."

During the daytime, the church is of course open. After receiving the reward, the little boy stepped fast and ran into the church.

Ignorance, he didn't know what kind of huge waves the thin paper worth a few candies in his hand would cause. Of course, even the initiator Borg would never think of what uncontrollable situation would be next... Maybe he felt a little bit in his heart, but the slight drunkenness and humiliation and hatred in his mind had completely blinded his heart and eyes...
Chapter completed!