Three Towers Game

Chapter 1320 - 418: I Become the Master of the Pen_2

At this moment, the teacher’s gaze finally moved away from Wen Xishu and Reid."Today is composition class. I’ll show you a few paintings, and you need to describe the content of these paintings."

"The requirement is—"

Wen Xishu instinctively looked at the little booklet.

The little booklet quickly sprouted words.

"Wen Xishu looked at the little booklet. He hoped to find an answer in it. Now that the story had come to this point, he would face his final trial before meeting the Master of the Pen. He had to faithfully describe the content of the three paintings; his written description must not contradict what was depicted."

"That eerie teacher soon began to display the three paintings. When they saw the contents, both Reid and Wen Xishu were shocked."

Reid and Wen Xishu were both shocked.

The content of the paintings was truly unsettling.

The first painting—Trust. Image:

Reid’s eyes were blood‑red, his expression twisted, both hands clamped tightly around Wen Xishu’s neck. In the background, flames raged out of control, burning the two of them. A strange black brand surfaced on Reid’s neck.

Reid looked like a fire demon descended from the heavens, terrifying flames occupying seventy percent of the canvas.

Reid’s hair also looked like it was burning with wrathful fire, and magma‑like veins crawled all over his body.

Wen Xishu realized that this was probably... going to make him use the pen to write out his own death?

He instinctively looked at the little booklet.

The little booklet indeed gave a clear reply.

"Wen Xishu realized that he was about to gain the same authority as the Master of the Pen. His pen would generate real content; what he wrote would become his fate."

"But he couldn’t write randomly. At this moment, he had arrived at the same destiny as the Master of the Pen: he possessed the power to decide life and death with a single stroke, yet the content he could write was restricted. But what could he do?"

This almost confirmed it.

The Master of the Pen’s ability was that what was under his pen would become real.

This was a power on par with the Divine Level.

Wen Xishu would also get to briefly experience this power, but he couldn’t write anything else; he could only describe the content in the paintings.

And in the painting, it was Reid, like the Fire God incarnate, killing him.

Reid was also stunned.

This was his Profound Meaning. Once activated, he became the master of flame, both driving and creating fire—enough to slaughter his way through countless foes.

But here in Pen Town, he didn’t dare activate it lightly, afraid he’d be instantly killed by the rules.

"This... why would I activate this form?"

Reid couldn’t understand it at all.

He was a man who valued brotherhood deeply; the Ruler of Fury form was meant for enemies.

Wen Xishu shook his head.

"Reid, the process doesn’t matter. The result is what’s in the painting."

Wen Xishu silently calculated in his mind.

After that, the teacher displayed the second painting.

The content of this painting was still related to Wen Xishu.

The second painting—Cycle. Image:

Wen Xishu was trapped in an infinitely extending library, frantically writing out stories of his own death. His shadow twisted on the ground, transforming into a pen that was stabbing toward his heart from behind.

If the first painting didn’t manage to kill him, the second painting would.

The second painting was practically constructing a curse to kill him.

He was trapped in a classroom, constantly writing all kinds of death stories that would come true.

In the end, his shadow would become a pen and pierce through him.

As for Reid... Reid was actually not present in this scene.

When Reid saw this painting, he was deeply shaken—especially when those countless "classmates" hanging there, with their twisted smiles, all turned to stare in unison at Wen Xishu, who was continuously writing out his own death.

He felt as if Wen Xishu had been abandoned.

It was only then that Reid thought of something:

"Don’t tell me the compositions we write... will all become real?"

Wen Xishu nodded.

By this time, the little booklet had stopped generating words, because Wen Xishu already understood how things would unfold.

He also understood that he would have to write himself to death.

Wen Xishu was still very calm. He started pondering one particular line.

"But he couldn’t write randomly. At this moment, he had arrived at the same destiny as the Master of the Pen: he possessed the power to decide life and death with a single stroke, yet the content he could write was restricted. But what could he do?"

The same destiny as the Master of the Pen?

In other words, did the master of Pen Town face the same predicament?

Who had imposed this predicament on the Master of the Pen?

The Master of the Pen was already so powerful, able to toy with people like him as if they were characters in a book...

Then who could toy with the Master of the Pen like that?

Outer Gods?

Wen Xishu’s thoughts were quickly cut off by the third painting.

The third painting—Forgetfulness. Image:

Wen Xishu stood alone in a void, his body gradually turning transparent. Scattered at his feet were pens and the last question he had written—

"Who am I?"

This was a painting meant to erase Wen Xishu’s very meaning of existence.

Once he described it faithfully, even if he survived the first two paintings, in the third he would lose his reason to exist.

He would forget who he was, and his entire being would become transparent—body and soul erased.

Reid still did not appear in this painting.

And it was at this moment that Reid received a voice prompt.

[Reid, I want to play a game with you. Granted, I can’t count on your writing skills to break through this impasse. But precisely because of that, you won’t be able to pull many tricks, and your hope of surviving will be higher. Next, there will be one more pen in your hand.]

As the voice faded, a pen indeed appeared in Reid’s hand.

Wen Xishu immediately noticed this scene as well.

Reid’s hand trembled slightly.

The voice in his head carried a mocking tone:

[Reid, if you hand this pen to Wen Xishu, then the one who writes the answers becomes Wen Xishu. If you can’t finish the composition within the time limit, you will die.

Yes, the two of you can only use one pen, and your time is limited. All the "classmates" in the classroom have already started their descriptions. Their writing is very slow, but they will finish in the end. Once they do—both you and Wen Xishu will die.

But if you hand in your paper early, you can leave here, leave safely. With your writing level, your composition will definitely be short, only describing the core of the image. Wen Xishu will die, but you won’t. That’s quite a bargain, isn’t it?

If you hand the pen to Wen Xishu and let him write, you might become the one he has to eliminate. Guess why you aren’t in the second or third painting? Are you really going to gamble on human nature?]

After the voice fell silent, the teacher also said:

"Now, begin. Start writing."

All the hanging classmates slowly raised their hands and began to write characters on their test papers with blood.

The movement was very slow, but Wen Xishu couldn’t afford to wait.

And Wen Xishu suddenly realized... he didn’t have a pen in his hand.

At this moment, there was, however, a pen in Reid’s hand.

Pain and struggle surfaced on Reid’s face.

Looking at Reid’s expression, Wen Xishu seemed to understand.

"Brother... are you confident you can survive?" Reid’s voice was shaking.

Wen Xishu could roughly guess that Reid was probably facing some sort of trial right now.

If he handed the pen to Wen Xishu, Wen Xishu would die, and Reid himself might not survive either.

If he kept the pen in his own hand, Wen Xishu would also die, but at least... he himself could live, right?

At this moment, the rustling of all the classmates writing in the classroom sounded like a death warrant.

If they were allowed to write... both of them would die.

Wen Xishu said:

"Reid, every game has a solution. The Master of the Pen is screening for people who can help him break his predicament, not just torturing us for fun. So this problem must have a way out. If you don’t believe me, you should at least... believe in Leon’s judgment."

This one sentence seemed to instantly give Reid strength.

Right—his own judgment might be lacking, he was just a reckless guy who could set things on fire, but Lord Leon was not.

He was the War God who would one day end the apocalypse.

Thinking about it that way, and recalling Wen Xishu’s performance up to now, Reid said:

"You’ve saved my damn life how many times already. Just write. Damn it, I shouldn’t have hesitated!"

Reid handed the pen to Wen Xishu.

In that instant, a voice rang out in Reid’s mind.

[I really envy you, Reid. You get to throw the hard problem to someone else. I don’t have that luxury.]

Wen Xishu took the pen from Reid, looked at the first painting, and did not immediately put pen to paper. Instead, he thought about how to break the game.

The description had to match the image...

But was there really only one possible meaning to the image?

If you can play tricks even with Chinese‑to‑Chinese translation, how much more with the description of a painting?

Wen Xishu closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again. The confusion was gone from his gaze, and his hand started flying across the paper.