The god's finger emitted a buzzing sound. After Its divine sense swept across the flesh of the sun, It ignored Xu Qing's Golden Crow and headed straight for the painting old man, pressing against his forehead.
A brutal divine sense erupted from the finger, as though It couldn't wait any longer. The madness and killing intent were overflowing so much that if Its body still couldn't be drawn, Its anger would destroy the surroundings in an instant.
The old man felt an intense chill of death and spoke loudly.
"No problem, chosen god. I'll draw your body now!"
As he spoke, the old man hurriedly took out his brush and hooked it toward the flesh of the sun's corpse where Xu Qing was. Immediately, a wisp of qi and blood spread out from the flesh and gathered in front of the old man's brush tip. It was as though it had turned into paint and ink. After he dipped his brush in it a few times, he quickly drew at the side.