Removing an independent alarm device that was revealed was nothing more than a slight effort for Campbell, and soon he cleared the last obstacle and opened the door to the exhibition hall of the master's works.

Campbell, who walked into the exhibition hall, walked directly towards the nearest painting, allowing the crisscrossing infrared rays to sweep back and forth on him, and while walking, he took out a special painting tube and a cutting blade.

When he arrived in front of the painting, Campbell closed his eyes slightly and felt the strange negative feeling conveyed from the painting again to confirm that the painting was not replaced.

In some museums, after the closing, they will specifically replace the exhibits with fakes and put the genuine products in the insurance room to prevent theft. In the past, many peers were trapped in this simple anti-theft method and became the laughing stock of their peers. Campbell was unwilling to be one of them himself.

Soon the familiar feeling was passed down from the painting, giving Campbell a positive answer. Campbell opened his eyes, immediately took out a specially customized cutting knife, and pierced it hard along the inner edge of the picture frame, trying to cut the painting off the frame, roll it up and put it into the painting cylinder.

However, after the knife was taken, Campbell couldn't help but look puzzled. He felt that the knife easily broke through layers of oil painting pigments, but when it touched the canvas, it was blocked by a layer of tough objects, and the tip of the knife could no longer push downwards.

"What the hell is this?" Campbell pulled out the knife with confusion, looked carefully at the tip of the knife, and there was no abnormality. Then he stabbed the knife in another place, and the same result was the same.

This also made Campbell wonder if there was something wrong with his cutting knife, so he pulled out the knife and pierced it hard on the wall. As he expected, his special cutting knife easily penetrated the stone bricks on the wall, and the entire blade fell into the wall, leaving only a small piece of the hilt blocking the wall.

"The knife is fine, that's the canvas is wrong." Campbell quickly figured out the reason, then hesitated for a moment and made a decision. He carefully checked the situation around the frame, and no alarm device appeared around the frame. Then he gently took the entire frame from the wall and placed it on the ground. The knife in his hand pierced the frame along the gap at the edge of the frame, prying the frame bit by bit, and disassembly the entire frame in less than a minute, revealing the complete oil painting fixed to the frame.

"What kind of canvas is this?" Campbell quickly pried a few very clever wooden wedges that fixed the canvas and took them off the frame. At this time, the painting had been thrown aside by him, and his attention was completely attracted by the canvas exposed on the edge of the painting.

The canvas is very soft and smooth, and it looks like some kind of fur. In Campbell's opinion, such canvas is not suitable for painting oil painting at all. Then he tried to stab the canvas with a knife and cut it a few times. As he had guessed in advance, the toughness of the canvas was no less than that of the iron cloth made of steel wire.

Campbell was extremely curious about this kind of canvas, but he also understood that this was not a good place to study canvas materials, so he quickly rolled up the canvas and stuffed it into the paint cylinder.

Next, the situation of the other eleven paintings was the same. They were painted with a special leather canvas, which made Campbell have to dismantle the frames in the same way, roll up the canvas and stuff them into the microphone. Fortunately, the number of special painting barrels he brought was enough to hold these oil paintings, but it took a lot more time to dismantle the frames and place the oil paintings than he expected.

Originally, Campbell was preparing to cut off several other master works, but time was tight, and the security guards would change shifts soon. According to regulations, they would check the route when changing shifts. At that time, the line of the alarm device would definitely be cut off by him, so he was not in trouble. He carried the already organized painting tube on his body, walked out of the exhibition hall, closed the door, and then walked towards the back door of the museum according to the route he had surveyed in advance.

When he was about to reach the back door, Campbell used his superpower to hide his body and equipment, and then deliberately made some noise to alarm the guards at the back door. When several guards opened the door and checked the surrounding conditions, they slipped out of the empty gate and ran to the river bank not far away, turned over and over the railing, and landed on the boat that had been prepared on the river surface below.

After putting the paintblock, Campbell drove the boat away from the shore quickly, heading towards the suburbs of Florence in the middle of the river. About ten minutes later, he stopped the boat on a small public dock in the remote suburbs, picked up the paintblock, jumped onto ashore, and under the cover of darkness, he silently entered a small vacant villa near the dock.

This small villa is one of Campbell's nests in Florence. He has several other nests. Generally speaking, he will not come to this nest. He will live here for a while only after cleaning up the stolen goods after doing things. And he has another identity here that will not be suspected. This identity is a travel writer who specializes in writing travel notes and essays for local town newspapers, so he often travels. No one in the villa will not attract attention. This identity is enough to protect him from the most tense period after theft.

After returning to his nest, Campbell relaxed a little. He put the stolen goods in the underground secret room, changed his clothes in the bedroom, and habitually poured a glass of wine, sat on the sand and drank it quietly, so that his spirit and body could be completely relaxed.

Campbell, who had adjusted his body and mind, changed into a work clothes, closed the doors and windows, closed the curtains, and placed a sign in front of the window at the main entrance. The servant who was in charge of house cleaning will see this sign tomorrow morning, so the servant will not rashly break in.

After going down to the basement, he took out the oil paintings from the paintblock one by one, and on the workbench, then took out some instruments to carefully check the canvas' material. However, what surprised him was that he could not check the leather material of the canvas in any way. What shocked him even more was that the canvas could not only withstand the cutting of the sharp blade, but even the burning of the fire could not cause any harm to it.

Such special canvas material made Campbell feel extremely curious. In addition to being curious about the mystery of the canvas material, he was also more curious about what the real paintings painted on the canvas were.

Thinking of this, Campbell couldn't wait to re-fix the canvas on a frame of similar size, then placed it on the flower stand, took out all kinds of tools and materials needed to scrape the painting, turned on the cold light, sat on the chair, and carefully cleaned the ugly sunset picture on the surface little by little.

It took no time to clean the oil paintings long or short. It took about an hour to clean up a piece of paint about three inches in the lower right corner, revealing the real painting covered with paint. The reason why he chose to clean this place first was because most painters' signatures would be at this location, and this painting was no exception.

"Is this German?" Campbell quickly recognized the language used in the name made up of the letters, and then said with difficulty: "Joseph Gottlieb Hess?"

After pronounced the name, Campbell's face was still confused because the name was very strange and was not among the names of the masters he remembered. However, after he recited it several times, he felt that the name was familiar, and he seemed to have heard the name from somewhere.

"Joseph Gotlieb Hess? Joseph Gotlieb Hess?" After repeatedly reciting the name, Campbell suddenly seemed to have thought of something, his face suddenly turned pale, as if he had seen something terrible, and his body suddenly stood up from the chair. Even the chair ignored it, he pounced on the painting in front, stared at the string of names and looked carefully several times before breathing out a long breath, saying, "I didn't expect it to be it, it really exists?"

As he spoke, he helped the chair up, made it again, picked up the tools and continued to clean the oil paints from other places. Compared to the calmness and steady moment, he seemed particularly excited. His face turned red even due to the excitement, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably, which forced him to stop several times when cleaning the oil paints, so that his emotions were slightly stable before continuing.

Time passed little by little, and soon it was dawn. Campbell, who had not been sleepy all night, had no tiredness at all, and his face remained the excitement of last night. As the real paintings on the canvas gradually appeared, his breath became thicker and thicker.

When the whistle of the earliest freighter sounded on the Arnold River outside the villa, the last little extra oil paint on the canvas was completely erased by Campbell, and the real painting was fully displayed in front of him. At this moment, even though he was prepared in his heart, he was still frightened by the painting in front of him and stopped breathing.

Although the whole world knows the word hell and the place hell, no one has seen what hell looks like, and everyone's minds are different, but Campbell is certain that no matter who sees the painting in front of him, the word hell will be the only thought that remains in their minds.

He could not describe everything in the painting in any language at this moment, even if he could look down on the face of every character, the shape of every object, the combination of every piece of pigment, etc., but he could not do it in words.

"Hell Soul-Suppressing Song! This is really Hell Soul-Suppressing Song!" After calming down the sensation, Campbell sat limply on the chair, subconsciously muttering to himself: "It really exists, this thing really exists!" (To be continued.)8
Chapter completed!