The black robes picked up blood from time to time.

The two celestial bells swayed and cast under the body, a black line cut out in the bright white shadow, and the writer moved forward steadily, "Here needs to be modified, there is something to add, people hate to look at abstract symbols, and can only read the image method." This is not right, humanity should return to the age of pictograms and pick up the brilliance of reason. "The black thread stretched into the Creator's chest, filling it with energy and swelling all the hearts." Can't do without, ah, always forget, add a little, reduce a little. Hey, no one can do logical operations? This is a condition for not being a creator. "Peeking from the shoulder, the poetic brain retracted his figure and followed behind the battle robe." I say a lot of things, will people hear them? "It got impatient, it wasn't its turn to speak, and the two despised each other." I'll delete the text, and you will pick up the beast's heart, which is not merciful. "The black rod hit the center of the human body, and he was torn apart and shattered into countless stars." It's not easy to write a book, let alone a book that you can tamper with yourself. You don't know that I'm sad about those... How much free will there is on the pages that I tore off. ”

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"It's an ideology!"

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The black head spun at high speed, forming a blade, reaching out the knife, pulling out a rattling saw, and charging towards the left rear.

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"Yes....... Ideogram? ”

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Chiba dragged his hind legs, his front shoulders slanted into the air, and he felt that there were two kinds of air on the battlefield, and just now there was a warm taste to seek the border, and now it is the valley of the wind towering. The team split into several groups, and in order to reduce the probability of being obliterated, she wiped the corners of her eyes vigorously and stuffed her nose.

The foundation of the Black Tower is divided into two layers, a new warm sun is in the center, and it will heat up soon, and it will melt the Nether?

"The poetic brain is a logical creation, and hand-to-hand combat will be slaughtered." If the writer were to find a new page and revise my history, I would disappear from the realm of dreams. "I'll be gone." He is God, and Chiba admonishes herself in the direction of Psychosis. "Is there anyone else south of the red line, stay out of the way!" The direction of the shouting suddenly tightened, and under dusk, the voice was amplified, and the female voice echoed north of the battle line, and the red cloud opened up, the shape of a heart.

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Little Poseidon .... If the ridicule is still there, please come back soon!

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The knee was disassembled, the woman lay forward, saw the blood scratches, smiled and fell, facing the little black face directly in front of her.

"You shouldn't be here....." she spitted out the blood from her mouth. The White Cross will be angry ......"

"That, again, how, what!"

The girl looked at the poetry brain with a smile and took out the knife, inserted it into the left and right corners of her clothes, the writer walked by, she was disappointed, the writer sure enough, did not look at her, and even the black staff was silently in his hand. The field of vision, the composition is tense, the writer does not enter the frame, but the poetic brain occupies the focal position, backlight, how many mimic knives, spread in concentric circles, followed by a kind of silence. Facing the girl, Shi Nao changed her mind, closed the knife, gathered the screws and buttons, and made scissors, she screamed, and it understood that it was better to kill her.

"Cut your hair, girl?"

"Get a haircut?"

"All of a sudden~"

Her hands clenched into fists, and with force, she grabbed into the ground, five unique ravines.

"m, cm, mm, micron~"

She still let go of the hand that wrapped the blade, and the fingers were bright red and crisp.

"I don't know how many people are going to die in battle, but it's an honor to leave a survivor! It's glory! ”

Seeing that the long hair was dissociated, the hairband was broken, the thousand leaf grass gritted her teeth, her tongue raised on her forehead and rushed to the edge of the scissors, and the scales were bursting at the root of the hair, and the sharp snake hyacinth was crawling and jumping, hissing to the battlefield and looking at the people to the south, a delicate tribal poem. Drill distressed, fortunately there is no fangs structure, Shi Brain complained, cut the opening and closing of the girl's arm, squinted, and smiled. That round of remnant yang, the poet brain said, the remnant sun does not have the working hardware of the warm sun, and the temperature energy level will not rise and reach the standard, but we will tell another story. She also smiled, calm, lying alone in the shadows, feeling the third air on the battlefield.

Self, exhale, exhale, the whole heaven and earth.

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There is a slight tremor in the knife edge.

The writer paused, drooped, and sighed.

The poetic brain draws the [door], two vertical and one horizontal, geometric mechanism. It constructs all its energy on space, abandoning all forms.

"If she comes, will you regret it? Chiba grass, you promised her that she would be at ease in the face of the writer? "The robe moved away from the horizon, and I still lie flat." The upper realm has just rained, the upper realm has been washed, and the lower realm has been made a mess by me, you can't bear it. "The black rod is in front, do a defensive position." There was a famous child who was able to create self-referential creations, and I had heard of it and wanted to see it with my own eyes. ”

The anchor mouth spat out from the sky, the whistle shattered the sky, and a pair of small hands pulled the bow guardrail, dressed in armor.

"Sneer?"

The poet squinted and did not laugh.

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"The Black King."

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The armor was enlarged, the girl's head was covered with sharp horns, and the heavenly clock tilted into the sunlight, refracting dark gold, purple and red. Due to the strong wind pressure, the black king had to half-squat, covering the corners of his mouth and smiling, in the center of those black pupils, reflecting the thousand leaves, she cried, and she laughed even more. Similarly, the five fingers grabbed into the wind, leaving a series of chic ravines, and a scream came from behind.

"The active agent has expired! I don't guarantee side effects on humans! ”

Standing in the wind, with his knees together, the Black King thought that the most subtle thing about an abstract painting was to use blur to describe the smallness of the picture, the air-dried cracks of the paint on the top of the picture. If you look into the painting, it is a sin. Through the glass, the old man's wrinkles are about to be heavy, and the smoke is swirling on its own.

"Exoneration! Rebel against the writers. ”

It must be addictive, the Black King engraved this sentence on the surface of his slender arm, and the turning point of the strokes went deep into the bone marrow.

【Exoneration!】 Rebel against the writers! 】

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She read it one last time, roaring with the wind, raising her eyebrows, drawing a course on the black robe, forever straight.

In the end, just do one last thing – leave Tiannian.

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[No one cares about your name, life, or punishment, and after you leave this ship, you will be free. Sorry, Black King, we have a final judgment on you. 】

Come to think of it, the meeting site!

[No one cares about the outcome of your trial and what you do freely, and we give you the power to drink an overdose of active potions, and we will not provide any support. I'm sorry, Black King, but your sins have made you a creator, not a dreamer. 】

Come to think of it, the White Cross has the right to speak.

You fight for yourself, forever. 】

Come to think of it, the discarded thing preaches the Wounds of Creation, you have done nothing wrong, the first time you have reached the dream world, and the last time you have dreamed in the dream world!

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Kill.

The brain is blank.

Everything that is born with.

The beast looks at it first, ridicules it, and does the cruelest thing to itself.

Ouroboros, the most loving mother I have ever met, the mother of Lu'er.

Great arrangement, found.

It's all me. [The beginning and end of the poem here are from the Vedas, a scriptural passage describing consciousness and everything in the world.] 】

The brain has color.

Kill!

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The feet are the fulcrum, and the writer is highly concentrated, afraid of missing any kind of dance. The black rod glowed, wiping out a plain valley in the direction of Chilou's legs, scorching rock, stirring smoke, twisting arms, and strengthening all the [pipe] calibers. The frequency is high, the writer draws hidden symbols around the body, modifies the landscape, translates, digs deeper, the body of the black king is constantly recreated in the whispering, the bones are more and more complex and all the ingenuity of the precise geometry, carrying the man's unique tension and expansion calf muscles, snap, the armor must be abandoned?

Chiba hears a silent heartbeat in the midst of loud thunder, and the database traces a heart rate map in the distance, and sees a commanding melody played.

"The Black King has tried to create a self, starting with a heartbeat. This has gone beyond self-referentiality....... Right? ”

"Gender is also starting to blur ......."

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"That's right, the third king."

Black stood, she crossed her hips, and announced.

The writer gasped and realized that something was wrong. Poetry Brain reported that all the code about the Black King on the pages of the book had been dissolved, leaving a new blank page.

The black belly puffs up, takes a few deep breaths, compresses it deep into the mouth, and releases it a little to prepare.

The eyeballs were about to go out of their sockets, and the poet entered the door, and the writer reflexively went to get the newly made white staff.

The people on the flat ground spit out a mouthful of yang, the moon, the middle of the sea of smoke, and the black king spliced his body to make up and dip, not caring about volume and mass, directly occupying all the material movement and the opposite sex, mobilizing the cry of the underground doll.

Everyone doesn't understand that the most majestic monster in the artifact hall has been cultivated for thousands of years, and even wants to take the spirit of time to feed it.

"There are two children who have given me an egg, but I can't bear to read it."

An eye bloomed next to the sky, encompassing all the wonders, the eyelids scratched all, and soon, countless cheeks grew from the pupils, white, pure, full of childishness, but there was a pair of boiling blood, the neck was painted with a pendant chain, dragging the Tianyun cross, the shadow Luo Chu, depicting every kind of divine injury, a thousand faces, a thousand suns.

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Black, white.

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"It's the color I used to be."

The cross shattered countless cheeks and became a pendulum, and the moon and sun were divided, one black and one white.

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"Now, it's the color of dreams."

"Coming, coming, coming!!"

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Arrival!

The Black King stood in front of him, wanting to draw the writer's expression at this time, and placed it in the center of the bedroom, drinking tea and watching.

Arrival!

Tiannian rolled on its side, high-speed air currents played with it, the boiler was exposed, and it fell off the cliff.

Arrival!

The nether realm is light and dark, and the thousand leaves close their eyes, and the imagination is no longer open.

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Through the door, Shi Nao heard Qili crying, and the page turned to the last chapter.

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[Coming, Calamity: The Color of Faith and the Final Chapter]

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Just reading it, the poetic brain itself cried.

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