Someone silently thought, how many times is this time, how many times is that time?

The dream that has been continuing, not wanting to be disturbed, appears on my heart. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

As if imprinted, with the beating, Peng broadcast a slightly hot grief, flowing through the chest, limbs, and capillary network behind the eyeballs, which is also the most suitable transmission track for anger.

Starting from the heart, the geometric center of the body, one of the most beautiful ways for us, humans, or all living beings, to read our lost existence is to dissipate into our own volatility.

How many times is that? You want to ask this question as well.

You want what she's talking about, but that's precisely what she says, it's an unparalleled detachment.

That is, stealing the truth.

.

The Black King flashed a few meters behind him.

The wound stutters, the pain cannot be spoken, the behavior is not strong enough, and the thing is crooked.

"The hand of the attacker, the grass of the abyss."

"Yes, the Abyss Grass."

The white cross brought out the snow-red clothes on his body, bringing out a poisonous smile of roses.

"Isn't it too outdated to say that new forces are needed to open up the two realms?"

People shouted, wings outstretched.

"What else can you do after you're quiet again? My dear, there is no home for you, nor is it my maternity ward. ”

Walking, the smile frosted.

"Here I am, Black Cross, your best half, to get the truth about the writer. The real image, the real causality, the real understanding, I will show you..."

All the time, you speak.

Always, dressed in white, never faded.

"No, that's your own business. I can't get out of the dream world, this is my child, the child we gave birth to together. You disciplined it and threw it into its fangs, which I didn't expect. ”

The black in the center of the red liquid surface gradually thinned out and faded out of the mysteries.

"Rebel."

The eyebrows droop and bend the lips, and then tighten all the upper masseter muscles.

Saliva falls in, mixing and exhaling.

Black Cross sensed the vitality of the white feathers piercing into the air.

The angle of the steel needle, the iron nail, and the hour hand on the clock face did not have time to close, and the time fell to the ground, and the ground and wooden planks were cracked, and only the eyes were still rising.

"Violent father."

People fled.

.

There was a tremor in the temple when it collapsed.

People looked around together, but they only made eye contact with each other, and there was a strong doubt.

Subtle.

The black robe rippled with blood-red eyes, the tradition of the Temple of Collapse since ancient times, ignited by the conflict of modernity.

Someone is subtle and brightened.

The old man under the dark robe finally spoke, old and bright.

"Where's the White Cross?"

The Black King's hair finally loosened, and George flicked his wrist and glanced at the seamcock's head.

"You feel it too."

She has a compass, but the direction is completely wrong.

Looking down, the needle that turned into the master of ceremonies, dark gold shining, crackled into the air, and flew out of the torii.

People witnessed the collision of the compass slag with the [Nine Gates].

Jingle ......

.

The little girl asked me what people do when they get the truth, and what they do to deal with whistleblowers.

Do you need to ask?

Kill, of course.

The little girl was frightened, but quickly understood and knew.

Because he is true to himself, but cannot be known.

This is also a truth.

I said, you're so smart.

The little girl smiled and flew away from me.

Leave it to the next boy.

That's right, I've been in heaven for a long time, and I'm shackled on my feet.

God is treated as he should be.

Day after day, high above the dream realm, I see what the White Cross did, but I don't know.

Is this your next secret you'd like to unravel?

The little boy flapped his wings behind him.

yes, but who's going to be the whistleblower?

But you also have to think about who will be the listener.

I think in this world, boys are still cuter than girls.

And women are cuter than men.

An honest one.

One that never reins in their cunning.

Look, the girl is looking back, peeking.

Peek...

.

At the end of the torii, the density of time is reduced.

Consciousness activates and begins to think.

This forest of town guards is also sprouting.

Blood-colored poppy, and grass with flowers.

The temple of collapse blew out a whimper, loosening the muscles and bones.

Open your eyes.

Flashing out on the dark robe.

The eternal debate over the philosophical question, that is, whether or not the Extreme Abyss Pavilion was a creation, gradually came to an eyebrow.

All problems must have results, and all results must give rise to doubts.

When the shopkeeper fled from the Abyss Pavilion, the tattoo on his arm did not show the back of the Ouroboros.

Almighty Eye, Always, Hidden, Obedient, Sac.

The hand that grabbed the sword.

Ends, shoulders.

It is also closed under the black placket of a cute and delicate girl.

.

"Look, informer, there has been."

.

Advice:

In the future, I will not follow all the habits of online texts, so far, please leave if you can't read or don't want to read it. The end of this novel is still far away, but for some people it is still very fast. Maybe the story I'm writing is meaningless, but that's why it exists, because there are enough meaningful things.

Do some of you feel like you don't have enough brains?

Hahaha, then you are normal, after all, psychology is not a "good" thing.