Before I knew it, I seemed to have been walking for a long time, at least when I didn't pay attention to the time, I felt like I had been walking for a long time.

But when I looked up, I realized that I had walked a little off, and now instead of returning to where I had been, I was getting farther and farther away.

Looking up, I saw a statue of the man in blue, not far away, above my head, as if I could reach the chains on it in a few steps.

But at the same time, the red blood and sand flowed out from all directions, and gradually surrounded me, and I looked left and right, and found that there was no turning back, but to continue to walk towards the man in blue above my head.

It is a pivotal figure, with all the chains from other places on his body, supporting a suspended floor that separates the space above our heads from beneath us.

Looking at the original empty place, but now it has been buried, just like the headless people we saw before, under the crowded picture, now it can only be silenced here, to release another vast space!

In fact, only the object is moving, but the space can produce certain changes on top of it, but because of the activity of the object, the space will also appear in different positions, and even in different ways.

As I walked up to the man in blue, I suddenly looked back at my feet. Or maybe that's its body, the space that supports it.

There is no door to enter and exit the unbreakable place, and only by seeing life and death thoroughly can you leave in the way of the soul.

And now, looking at this issue again, it has become very clear that the door we have been looking for is not on the four walls, but on the top of the head. What do we want to see, is it freedom without bondage, or freedom from our own wisdom? This can only be a matter of opinion.

Perhaps such a result is also what it wants to see, even if it chooses a certain outcome, the final direction is the same, because the foundation is the same.

The results of choice also appear and disappear in turns, and the reason why we feel great and small about it is only because we are always us, not them.

This is the end of the eye with it, and I am leaving now, but before that, danger is already looming.

In the midst of the bloody sand, a bloody head burst out and bit my foot and neck in one bite.

But through the thick clothes, its teeth had no chance of piercing, and I immediately shook my footsteps, but the head seemed to grow on my leg, and it had no intention of spreading at all.

I saw the chains that were close at hand, and grabbed them first, but then there was a tugging of the chains.

After a few creaks, I felt the chains in my hands shrink, and then the same sound continued to come from the man in blue next to me.

Corresponding to the other statues around them, the sound echoed among them, and then all the chains began to move, and the mouths of the chains turned one by one, moving towards the nearby statues.

Listening to these sounds, my heart was furious, and the statues under my feet sank violently, it was actually falling, and the nets all over these statues were also spreading, tearing the bodies of those statues little by little.

I finally came here, I didn't expect things to turn out like this, but in this way, it also fulfilled my previous suspicion, this man in blue really has a problem.

Staying where I was, I felt the skin on my legs tighten, and realized that now was not the time to think about it uselessly.

As soon as I thought of this, I immediately shook my flashlight, looking for the nearest exit, and looking for Li Sansi and them, but in a hurry, the head did not let go, dragging on my lap, as if I would not let go if I didn't bite down.

I yelled, kicked it several times, and finally wrapped the chain around the skull, and with one hand grasped the chain, leaned over, slid it down the lower position, and with such force I got the thing off of me.

But that thing was stubborn enough, and it was already full of blood in its mouth, and it didn't give up until it tore my trouser leg and finally got rid of it.

After stopping the sliding speed, I was already next to another statue, but as soon as I got my footing, I saw the head fall and quickly roll in the sand.

But at that moment, another withered head suddenly jumped out of the surrounding blood sand, and that head was covered with blood-red sand, but with a row of sharp teeth in its mouth.

When the two heads rolled together, they began to bite, but it was clear that this fleshy head was no match for it, because its face was already covered with tooth marks, and at a glance, it was clear that it must have encountered a bloody skeleton in the sand before.

Taking advantage of this moment, I quickly climbed up the opposite rock wall along the chain, but before I could climb over, I saw several more of the same kind emerge near the bloody skeleton, and they gnawed the stubborn human head clean with three strokes and five divisions.

In the flashlight, it was obvious that the blood sand on their bodies was moving rapidly, and they were the source of power for these things.

Under the interaction of a large number of individuals, the subject generates a huge amount of kinetic energy, which in turn promotes the various functions of the object.

But they cannot move the mind, because the nature of their existence is different, and they can make the dead thing move, but they cannot make the dead thing acquire important thinking powers.

Because the imprisoned inspiration has left when it collapses, they have become stiff and ownerless, like puppets made of sea cocoon, a soulless hell that has long lost its value of existence, so the blood sand spilling from below is only a kind of puppet.

Dodging the godless things, I kept crawling towards the rock wall, but just as I climbed in front of the rock wall, I suddenly saw a corpse appear below.

He was bleeding from his body, two reds intertwined, and the blood sand around it was surrounded by blood, as if it had turned it into a soul that had come alive from hell.

This is the dead man just now, but what about his head?

I immediately looked at the head not far away, and I could think of what was going on, but the corpse, how could it be here.

No, no, it may not be the dead but the evil spirit in the mural here, because the cage was destroyed, so it escaped and came back to life from the restraint.

The ghost blood that flows from its body, its inspiration has also dissipated in history, and now it is only the spirit that represents captivity.

It longs to be free, it longs to be free, but when that desire is made, it loses it, because it sees itself doing it, sees the result, and understands the fact that it does not exist.

If it doesn't exist, then the world that you see as hope, a free world, should not exist, so it will destroy everything and deny what you see.

This is a pathological way of thinking, and we can't improve it, because in our six phases, there is also such a tendency to manifest in the mind, but we are not one-way thinking creatures, and we can't see every day as the end of the world to master precious time.

It has only one mortal appearance, which is also acquired after death, and is constrained by another way of thinking all the others, so that they have no other thoughts and choices.

Watching the headless man walk over, as he walked through the sand, the blood sand quickly swarmed into its body, and the originally flattened body was propped up again.

As I walked past the man in blue, I could see the headless man through the glow of a flashlight shining into the shaking chains.

It seemed to have come out of the statue, and it was the only one of its kind here, it was free, and it survived after the destruction of the cage.

Its figure was tall, with a dull shadow dragging behind it, but now, except that it had no head, it seemed to be like us.

It can move, it can go anywhere it wants, it can kill anyone at will, it can help them at will, or even get out of here?

My thoughts were like a hammer hammer, and I wondered if it was imitating us.

From the post-death mind, will it ...... Is there a possibility that we will turn back into us again.

If it is said that a person's life is to harvest their own unique memories, to be remembered, and to remember others.

Then death becomes simpler, that is, to take away the memories, other people's and one's own, and then let one's body go back to re-establish the memories of another person.

Is the appearance of the world pieced together through these? So where will these collected memories go, and whether there will be some days when someone will suddenly retrieve them through some channel.

Looking at it, I didn't dare to think about it anymore, and the way I identified with my unreal self made me feel a chill in my heart.

Its mind may be that of a newborn child, crying and trying to remember his previous memories, everything that had been forgotten before, until he slowly grew up and gave up on things that were too far away.

It walks up to its own head, like when it was five years old, making a choice between recalling the past or accepting the present.

Look at the fleshy head, with rotten blood hanging on it, and it is also getting more and more blurred about yourself?

It hesitated briefly, then turned its head away, took the other head, and put it on its own.

As the blood and sand glued together, this brand-new head moved flexibly a few times, and then opened its red eyes violently, but there was only one blood-red eyeball, which was empty and empty, and it urgently needed to go to the complex self and accept more baptism of thought.