Paintings of Terror - Chapter 247: Ready to Set Off

Our straight (?) bottom woke up ten years into the future and found himself on the bed of his childhood friend… At the start, the bottom was shocked to his very bones, but he soon quickly accepted this premise and found the whole situation to be rather amusing. Precisely then, the bottom once again went back to his timeline — back to when he and the top were just platonic childhood friends.

Landmines include but are not limited to: Sweet & naive bottom, a president story, logic is dead, slow-progressing romance, the protagonist’s name has too many character strokes, the names are hard to pronounce, too many gay characters…

Ernest Quelt, the alchemist renowned for his unparalleled mastery of alchemy, has perished.But his death wasn't a noble sacrifice in battle, nor the result of a failed expedition—it was a betrayal. The very comrades he trusted most turned on him, driven by envy of his growing power.Yet fate wasn’t entirely cruel. With his final breath, Ernest's gaze fell upon the tube that contained his greatest achievement: a perfect artificial being known as the Homunculus.More than just a vessel resembling a human, this creation harbored the power of a catastrophic beast—one that had once nearly brought the world to ruin.

On their first wedding anniversary, she almost had a miscarriage after a fall, while Fu Yanshen anxiously carried another woman into the hospital. It was at that moment Mu Chenxi realized she was just a substitute. Four years of tender love had all been a lie. For the sake of her child, she wanted to give him another chance. She waited all night, only for him to stay out until morning, returning with traces of another woman all over him. Her heart turned to ash, and she thrust a divorce agreement into his hands, “Fu Yanshen, let's get a divorce.” That was the moment Fu Yanshen truly panicked.

There is an ugly beast that violates women in prison.

A treacherous beast that is feared and called a “Butcher”.

That’s me.

I was once a human but now I can’t even remember my own name.

I can’t speak, and I don’t understand a word they say.

It is in this deep loneliness that I am pouring my essence into the women everyday.

I pour my burning rage into them.

Over and over again, until they conceive.

From morning till night. Until the women’s souls withered.

To show them that I’m an excellent stallion and an obedient domestic animal.

But my soul has not perished yet.

I will break free from this prison soon. And when I do, it will be your last.

Every human who betrayed me, every demon who altered me, I will trample down like an ant.

And it won’t stop until I’m satisfied.

The dawn of the beast is near.