The double swords rested on the shoulders of the Black Buddha, and the "mass" effect produced by the heavy weight plunged the other two swords into the kraken's abdomen, and the Black Buddha bent down slightly, lowering his shoulders slightly, and the dark blue blood instantly gushed out, impregnating the surface of the four killing weapons. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

The snake's head trembled violently, pushing away the Black Buddha's arm, and a sword was bitten by it, and sparks burst into the dark sky, illuminating the Kraken's hideous face and terrifying wounds.

The magic square turned into powder in the center of the battlefield, and the contraction of the space brought a wave of trembling, and the ground was brought up by it to ripple layer by layer, turning from liquid to solid.

The Kraken propped his hands on the ground, and the head of the snake behind his back surged wildly with a loud hiss, and he bit the giant sword wrapped around his mouth to pieces.

This process, in the eyes of the man, is only a matter of seconds.

He had to make a decision.

The speed of creation, the ability to create, and the attributes of creation must all be superior.

The ring glowed with a scorching glow, and her fingertips swept through the air, curling the arc into a solid form as her other hand contracted to align it with the center of the arc.

It was a bow.

The woman took the first step, aiming at the left side of the Buddha's head, the skin of the black snake's head.

The bow body contracted violently, one by one, sending strong kinetic energy, and the arrow feathers flew out and pierced into the snake's body, immediately attracting the competition of other snake heads.

Want to pull her out? ”

The woman smiled heartily, and saw a glimmer in her eye—it was the glimmer of the tail of the arrow's feather. The body of the arrow instantly scales into a huge syringe, syringe, and medium conveyor.

The man was amazed and amazed: "What are the common techniques of the symbolist school? ”

"Passing the prize." The woman bowed down and pulled her bow and arrow apart again, her gothic dress blue and black, the edges of the ribbon glowing softly.

"Just use your hands and feet." The man saw her epaulettes clearly, not only as a symbol of the school, but also as a master of Imagism, Chiba Cao.

She is a dreamer from China, but she makes herself, a man from North America, unable to extricate herself from being fascinated by her.

Sure enough, the Tai Chi pattern on the syringe is dyed with a beautiful navy blue, one black and one white, eye-catching and at the same time lacking its own artistic conception.

Industrial-grade glycerin.

Sticky, yet loose.

Dangerous, yet fascinating.

Golden chains hang from the sky, and huge bell hammers hang below.

The previous bell stood sideways, the hammer was in place, the sound of the chain trembling matched the heavy sword in the Black Buddha's hand, and the Kraken began to rush towards the bell, but was defeated by the arrows flying in front of him.

After a while, the kraken in front of the bell was full of needles, but the person who rang the bell stood in the wind, leisurely.

The Black Buddha's four arms are locked in the shape of a throat to stabilize the kraken's head, and when the snake's head is scurrying, the bell ringer pulls the cloud-shaped handle above the bell hammer.

"The smell of glycerin is terrible."

Chiba said.

"My nose is very sensitive."

The man listened to the bell behind him, muttering something in his mouth.

Deafening, blood gushing.

The head of the snake and the head of the Siren exploded, engulfing the ground in front of the temple in thick flames.

The cross grew out of her body and appeared upside down.

God's punishment, the depth of sin.

The bell resonates, causing a vibration of energy to amplify, which is heated above the boiling point through the molecular movement of glycerin, pouring out of the target's body and turning into the words of Prometheus. [From Greek mythology, the god who brought fire to mankind. 】

"It's not bad, it's just impossible to describe how it tastes."

The Kraken fell to the ground, and the Black Buddha retreated, leaving four long swords standing on the ground, burning red. The speed of the bell did not keep up with the speed of the explosion point - the only surprise in this battle.

Battlefield witch doctor, arrive.

The woman smiled as she caught a glimpse of the witch doctor's pointed hat with the "blood-colored gear" emblem.

An old man.

"George, what's coming?"

"The little one is out, she is also the creator of the future, and she must not forget her duty."

The text on the reading glasses betrays his identity once again, but the girl who was supposed to witness it all is not present.

This makes him a lot more flexible with his hands and feet, and less clumsy when carrying the picture frame.

Witch Doctor, the Phenomenological Reconstruction School, the first branch, and the entire branch is a master of the Shaping School except for the originator of Grandpa George.

It has to be envied.

Therefore, people give the nickname - the funeral master.

The war witch doctors walked past the red-hot greatsword figures, and the terrifying heat burned George's heart, and he couldn't help but cough.

"Rest,"

On the side, a young girl said. "Refactoring doesn't require much of an activator."

George hesitated.

Why does it take so long to answer a young man's request? It's not a mood that can only be felt when facing life and death. His hands twisted back and forth under his sleeves, avoiding the girl's gaze, like a child.

"Then I'll watch from the sidelines, it's always okay, right?"

He couldn't think of a reason to refuse, so he threw out this sentence coldly.

"Everything is up to you."

Then, the girl walked around the back of the greatsword, and a huge coffin immediately appeared behind the others in the group, stitched together in black and white, and the gray wooden planks interspersed within, depicting the unique sadness of the battlefield after the smoke of gunfire. Ever since people learned to create, dreams have also arisen. But the birth of dreams means that the dreams that sustain them, the wishes themselves, become a rare resource.

"People compete for dreams, give them infinite history, infinite meaning, infinite life."

"Dreams gain life in slumber, and sleep in wakefulness."

Chiba continued George's words.

"How difficult it is to determine the great value of being and not being." [From "The Poetics of Space", by Gaston Bashira [France]]

After Liulan finished speaking, he heard that Chika behind him began to have a tendency to leave the hot spring pool.

The little hand looks petite and cute, but pushes the boy back into the pool.

"Forbidden, abandoned, lonely, girl."

Qiange's shoulders were wrapped in the girl's long hair, the bridge of his nose was embedded in his ears, and his chin was directly attached to the other party's neck.

"Shy, pure, normal, human nature."

She paused, thinking of something. The word "not guilty" was whispered in his ear.

Qian Ge breathed rapidly, looking at the numb back of the shrinking pupil in the distance, the five-flavor bottle in his heart was not only knocked over to the ground, but also splashed with a strong smell of perfume. It seems that stickiness has been the ability of the stream lamp since childhood, and I never thought that this kind of thing that happened to my parents has become a burden when I experience it by myself.

"Now, that little teddy bear, did you have a home?"

She changed her words, and the boy was frightened.

"Why do you ask this?"

After listening to this, the girl left his shoulder, and her long hair fell back into the water.

The ripples are still there.

"Yes."

Shrunken eyes whispered through the mist.

"Now there is."

He raised his voice. On the other side of the fog, there was silence, and he felt a little uncomfortable. The keyholes, the chains, the blood-colored cotton, were not its fault. Someone has had it and given it infinite life, with meaning.

Even history.

The more you give, the deeper the wound becomes.

The thickness of the wound is directly proportional to the richness of the mood.

What is the sin of these creatures who have been deprived of their lives? If your past is the first half of your life as a teddy bear, then the reason why you haven't lost "yourself" now is because you met Lu'er, right? People always like to say that fate is impermanent, like child's play, and it seems that there is nothing wrong with this sentence applied to themselves.

The person on the other side stepped out of the hot spring pool and draped the bath towel over his body. The moment Qian Ge turned around, she suddenly realized that she looked like the waitress when she first arrived at the hotel, but at this time she was more like a colored lily than a white rose.