As night fell, the twilight faded, and the cloudless sky turned a bruising deep purple before disappearing into darkness.

Hoffa and the god of nightmares followed the soldiers to their barracks. Compared to the group of dreamers outside, the area of the soldiers was very quiet.

Silent bonfires lit up in the rolling tents, and piles of soldiers were in groups of twos and threes, some roasting, some cooking, and some feeding the horses.

They were roughly divided into three types, plainclothes policemen in police uniforms, soldiers with rifices on their backs, and Holy Roman Empire soldiers with crosses and double-headed eagles on their backs.

From the soldiers in the barracks, Hoffa can roughly tell the era of Sylby's existence, the Holy Roman Empire should have been his youth, the soldiers who fired the guns were his old age, and the police uniforms were modern law enforcers.

What exactly did Sylby want to do by placing these people here to keep his dreams steady?

Since the soldiers did not communicate with each other, Hoffa could not get any information, and he did not dare to speak rashly.

Because he was afraid of revealing his stuffing, he followed behind the group of soldiers and filled up the numbers, and the soldiers ate when they ate, and the soldiers practiced and they slept, and the soldiers slept and they slept, of course, not really slept.

When all the soldiers in one of his tents had fallen asleep, Hoffa got up from his bed and gestured out of the tent.

Then in the firelight, he could see that his horse's body shrunk and elongated, and finally turned into a slender S-shaped body, and became the god of nightmares, and then changed from a horse back to a human form, and opened the curtain and walked in.

Hoffa didn't understand why it had to be a beauty every day, when it could be any kind of form.

"Can't you just change your appearance?" he asked with a smile.

The nightmare god didn't speak, her face was cold, her pace gradually increased, and then she pounced on Hofa, pressed him on the bed, grabbed his neck mercilessly with her palm, and said with a murderous expression: "Next time before you make an idea, it's best to discuss it with me, I can cooperate with you, but you'd better not blaspheme." ”

"Uh...."

Hoffa was choked and couldn't breathe, in the dream world, his physical strength was not as strong as in the real world, and in most cases, he was about the same as a normal adult.

Suffocated, he didn't dare to make a sound, so he could only keep breaking the arm of the nightmare god.

The nightmare god who ate must have been suppressed for a long time, and it didn't dare to attack before, but that doesn't mean it doesn't care.

A second before Hoffa was about to lose consciousness, his neck was released, and he suddenly paused on the bed, touching his neck and gasping for breath.

"I want to... Want to beat... Sylby is that kind of person... You don't.... How can you do it without paying a price. ”

"Okay, what do you want to do at the cost of eating?" the Nightmare God sneered and asked, "If you don't go back, I'm afraid that the person outside is really going to die." ”

"Ahem... "Hofa trembled and whispered, "I'm going to go into the dream of the group's subconscious, you..... Do you have no way. ”

The Nightmare God was shocked by his thoughts: "One more level? It's a double dream, you know what that means, all the instability is magnified exponentially." ”

"Does this matter?" said Hoffa, breathing again.

"It's very important, it's a matter of life and death. Do you really want to go in?"

"Of course, these soldiers are the embodiment of Sylby Spencer's rules, they are in some way equivalent to Sirby, and only by entering their dreams can I know what Sirby is trying to do. ”

The god of nightmares hesitated.

One of the soldiers in the barracks rolled over and snored, and the two closed their mouths in tacit agreement.

After a moment of silence, Hoffa: "What, can't you do it?"

"It's not that it can't be done, it's a double dream. ”

The god of nightmares warns, "It's not strange what happens in there, and besides, it's already hard to get out of this layer of dreams, the guy outside is dying, and if you can't find a way out before he dies, the consequence is that there is another vegetative person in the world." ”

"Can you do anything better?"

Hoffa asked rhetorically.

"It's too risky. The Nightmare God shook his head: "My suggestion is to find a way to get out of here and physically destroy Sylby's body." ”

Hoffa sighed: "I don't want to fight an enemy I don't know anymore.

To be honest, ever since I met him in my second year, I never knew what he really thought, what he blasted Hogwarts for, what he lived for so many years, what he did to break the curse, what his life goal was, I had no idea what his purpose was. ”

"You already have the power of time, you still need to understand what he does, as long as you find him, he must not be your opponent in reality. "The Nightmare God suggests.

Hoffa smiled self-deprecatingly: "With all due respect, he used time as a weapon fifty years earlier than me, maybe 300,000 years, to say that he has no back hand waiting for me, I don't believe it." ”

The Nightmare God pondered for a long time, and finally it compromised: "Well, I'll help you enter the second layer of dreams, but I won't enter it myself." ”

Yes, the expected answer, Hoffa thought, this is very divine. In case he dies, the god of nightmares can still find a way to find a home.

However, after experiencing 6,000 cycles of life and death, he has seen a lot of things and understood a lot of things.

The gods represent only rules, they don't have much emotion in themselves, the world needs nightmares, so there are nightmare gods, the world needs death, so there is death, the world has night, all have night gods, each of them can't dominate the world, the nightmare god won't kill himself because of the anger of eating, and he can't do whatever he wants with the help of time. The god of nightmares didn't want to put all his bets on himself, and he would do the same, the divine blood in his body telling him that the world was above all else.

"Come on. ”

Hoffa closed his eyes.

The god of nightmares pressed his forehead with one hand and the soldier's forehead with the other.

It was as if someone had pushed him into the water, and after a thud, he began to fall.

This time the dive was longer, there was no light in front of him, his ears were full of the sound of water, and he was a little out of breath from the pressure of pressure from all sides, and gradually, something appeared in the dark pool. He closed his eyes and let the thing drag him upstream.

......

Boom, accompanied by the ease of getting out of the water.

......

He could breathe.

When I opened my eyes, the dream changed again.

He stood in a heavy fur coat in a charred snow, surrounded by a cold cold.

Snow fell like goose feathers from the dark sky and fell on his shoulders and the tip of his nose.

Bang blah!

The sound of neat footsteps came overhead.

He looked up and saw that he was standing under a city wall, which was covered with staircases made of thick wooden beams, firmly nailed to the stone wall, and the long staircase twisted and twisted like a lightning bolt, and zigzagged up the wall.

Rows of soldiers ran up the stairs in neat rows, armed with various standard weapons, axes or bows and arrows. Probably preparing for a battle or a drill. Each of them carried a shield with a double-headed eagle and a cross tattooed on their backs.

There wasn't much difference from the barracks just now, except that the atmosphere was more tense.

"Is the oil ready?"

"Coming soon!"

"Are the Rolling Stones enough?"

"Not enough. ”

"If it's not enough, let the craftsmen hurry up and pick it, and besides, those 30,000 arrows will come up!

The cacophony of commands and commands echoed in Hoffa's ears, and he couldn't help but stand under the walls and say to himself, "What the hell is this place?"

He walked towards the walls, his boots breaking through the ice of the night, the snow creaking under his feet, his breath condensing like a banner in front of him. He crossed his arms to his chest and walked faster.

"Hey!"

One of the soldiers saw him and shouted, "What for?"

Hulala, several soldiers who found him threw away the bundle of arrows in their hands, took a step, quickened their pace, passed through the city wall, surrounded him, and some even drew their sharp blades and pointed at his neck:

"Who are you, such a face, are you the spies sent by those wizards?"

A spy sent by a wizard?

Hoffa's eyes widened slightly, could it be that these Muggle soldiers were at war with wizards?

At this moment, a priest in a red robe walked briskly down from the ladder of the city wall: "What's going on!?" he asked loudly, "What's going on, making noise here?"

"Father Maxque, a stranger has broken in, and we suspect that he is a spy sent by Pandora. The soldier replied.

"Spies?"

The red-robed priest immediately put his nose in front of Hoffa, put his face to his face and asked, "Are you a spy?"

"It's not. ”

"Then tell me what Christ's birthday is. The priest said in a subtle way.

"Huh, what?" Hofa was caught off guard by the question.

"I don't know!"

The priest's nostrils suddenly dilated, "It's a heretic, sure enough,"

He immediately pulled out a copy of the Bible with a black cover from his waist, opened it, and read it aloud: "He who walks in darkness, the servant of the devil and evil spirits, will be purified by the light of the world, and now submit to the spirit of truth, heretic—" The priest slammed the book shut and said, "Do it!"

The soldiers raised their blades one after another.

"Wait a minute!"

Hoffa raised his hand and shouted, stopping the inexplicable group of soldiers.

"What do you want to say?"

The red-robed priest asked coldly.

"I'm an intelligence officer from the rear, and I'm in charge of handing over the information, and you dare to do this to me!" Huo Fa shouted confidently: "Fortunately, I ran hundreds of kilometers to save you, and I ended up like this! Where is your person in charge, I want to see him!"

"Tipster?"

The soldiers looked at each other.

The priest looked at him suspiciously: "Do you have any evidence?"

Hoffa closed his eyes, took off his gloves, groped for a moment on his chest, and when he opened his eyes, he took out a letter sealed with red seal mud from his pocket, and handed it forward: "No, take it and see it yourself!"

The red-robed priest snatched the letter from his hand and read it along the handwriting.

Hoffa held his breath, he didn't know what would be on the letter, everything was a temporary vision, anyway, it was a dream, and his wishes within the scope of his cognition could be fulfilled.

After reading the letter, the red-robed priest's face became uncertain, and he closed the letter, looking very hesitant. The soldier held his breath and silently waited for the priest's order.

"It's all right to believe, but why don't you even know Christ's birthday?" the priest was still uneasy.

Hoffa's face did not change, "Because I remember the day of his death, and from that day on, the world was changed." ”

The priest's face looked a little better, and he snorted a little unwillingly, "Lucky for you, I'll take you to the Pope to see if you will show your feet." ”

The soldiers looked annoyed and let Hoffa go.

The priest led Hoffa up to the city wall and to the heights, where he realized that it was very different from the dream on the previous level.

The upper layer of dreams is some beautiful dream bubbles, full of funny and unreal, but the things in this layer of dreams should have happened in real life.

Outside the city wall, the trenches were dug one after another, and the spurs were neatly facing outward, hideous and sharp. The thorns were dressed in a variety of corpses, which were charred in the flames. Some of the wounded horses that had lost their owners limped through the flames, some dragged their intestines, and fell to the ground and died after not far away.

And in the distance, in the dancing snowflakes, the tents of the opponents can be faintly seen, they are lit up in the darkness, large and quiet.

War.

War between wizards and Muggles.

Hoffa wanted to know what was going on here, but he didn't dare ask, afraid to expose himself.

He silently followed the red-robed priest, not knowing how long he had been gone.

The priest took him to a church in the middle of the city.

The church has been converted into a medical center, where countless white-robed clergy run around, pressing on the wounded on the hospital beds, some of whom have burned flesh and blood on their legs, leaving only black bones, and the clergy holding a saw to help him saw his legs, and the air echoes with a heart-pounding wail.

Completely opposite to the first layer of dreams, Hoffa began to wonder what kind of medicine was sold in the gourd by Silby, why did he build a sweet dream on top of the nightmare.

He couldn't understand it.

The priest led him through the screaming hall, through the deep corridors, to a bedroom door in the depths of the church, and pushed it open.

"Go inside, and go with the Pope to deliver the mission. ”

The red-robed priest said.

Pope!?

Hoffa looked over the red-robed priest's shoulder into the bedroom.

It's good not to look at it, but this look startled him.

In the bedroom there was a four-poster bed, and on the four-poster bed lay a sick old man, who was familiar to Hoffa. He had snow-white breath and hair, and a crooked nose.

It was Albus Dundondo.