A hundred stars come from the small to the large, from the heavens. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

Sikong is like an ant looking up at the sky, under this supernatural power of picking stars and taking the moon, he can only close his eyes and wait for death.

No way!

Sikong didn't want to believe it.

Although this murderer is very strong and is a four-dimensional repairer, he is far from reaching the point of becoming an immortal and sealing a god, you must know that even Yue Buqiu on Du Hengxing's star back then, cultivating to the fifth dimension, is still one line away from immortality and immortality, and will die with the collapse of the stars.

Among them, there must be joints that I haven't figured out!

Could it be that this is just an illusion, a trick?

But the vast power of the stars, and the great terror of imminent death, are so clear that it is impossible to deceive.

Suddenly, Sikong recalled the Eye of Origin, an introduction to the origin of this dream--Dream Maker Space, with dreams as the boundary, beyond reality, dreams shattered, and a thought come true.

A thought come true!

Sikong raised his head suddenly, his eyes were full of light, and the blood plum petals slowly rotated, making him add a little weird and demon-like temperament.

I believe that the stars will not kill me!

Sikong was full of unruliness, and the fox in his heart turned into anger, making his face hideous, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Watching the stars above his head fall on him, Sikong stood upright, his spine like a sword, as if he wanted to poke this star into a hole!

'Whoa!! ’

The sky collapsed, the flowing water was no more, and the bamboo forest was touched out of thin air, just like the heavenly pillar toppling, and the earth instantly turned into a piece of lonely island, floating in the boundless starry sky.

The ninety-nine stars that followed turned the isolated islands into space dust, forming nebulae floating in the starlight.

The whole world perished in the stars.

Buried in the icy sea of stars.

"Ahem, ahem, ahem......"

Suddenly, a rapid cough broke the silent truth of space, and it resounded clearly through the starry sky.

Hua Dan's weird smile suddenly froze, and her empty eyes looked under the nebula.

I saw that a devil who seemed to have come from hell slowly crawled out in the cloud-like dust that gradually dispersed.

There were no limbs, bones turned into powder, muscles hung down, heads were directly smashed, and brains were sprinkled all over the starry sky around them.

It seems that the blood that will never flow can be exhausted flows out of Sikong's colorful internal organs, forming a perfect ball behind Sikong, red and demonic, as big as the ocean.

Sikong was floating in the starry sky, and behind him was a sea of blood.

Zhou Tian's starlight was dimmed at this time, as if it had been robbed of its brilliance by the dazzling blood red.

"Old monster, bluff, the master just can't die!"

Sikong's skull was cracked, and his facial muscles were almost vaporized, but at this time, he showed a terrifying smile, mixed with white brains, laughing at Hua Dan in the distance.

Sikong believed that he couldn't die under the stars, so no matter how serious Sikong's injuries were, even if they were crushed into powder, he still couldn't die.

One thought, come true!

Hua Dan frowned and shook her head, seeing Sikong's miserable appearance, like a narrow girl who doesn't like trouble, just a little bit.

The sea of stars swirled in the sky, and countless comets streaked here, and the light was strange, and huge stars rushed to the place in the raging fire.

At this time, the entire starry sky was moved by Hua Dan's mind, and he played all kinds of tricks, and then went to the top of the sky!

Sikong's face changed greatly, and he subconsciously felt a sense of hesitation in his heart.

Under the wrath of heaven and earth, can I really live?

Don't say that I, even a real immortal, can't escape death, right?

There is hesitation in the heart, and Sikong is like a lamp and candle in a storm, crumbling, lonely and drifting, and it will be extinguished in the next moment.

When a thought comes true, you have to believe that your thoughts will come true, even if there is the slightest hesitation in your heart, a thought will come true.

Otherwise, Sikong directly hypnotized himself, treating himself as the originator of the Immortal Dao and the emperor of science and technology, not to mention a starry sky, even if it is the universe of the ten directions, it will be destroyed in a single thought.

However, that kind of existence was too far away from him, sitting high on the altar, hidden in layers of fog.

Even if he fantasizes about becoming a second repairer, Sikong can't self-hypnosis, because he doesn't understand, he hasn't felt it personally, and no matter how much he believes, there will be a trace of unreality in his heart.

But, obviously, this murderer can do it!

Mentally ill people, really big brains.

That's right, psychotic!

Suddenly, Sikong's gaze changed, and his eyes, which were full of vicissitudes and hatred, became crazy, sometimes sad, sometimes joyful, and even more cunning.

Suddenly, a hand regrown, stained with Sikong's brain, sucked in Sikong's mouth, Sikong looked intoxicated and obsessed, with his terrifying and bloody appearance, it looked extremely demonic.

Another hand grew, put his back under Sikong's armpit, stretched his palm, and went in all directions, making Sikong look like a humanoid spider.

Looking at the galaxy in front of him, Sikong no longer forced himself to believe that he had the power to open the world and destroy the galaxy, but used the bright starry sky as an oil painting on paper.

The pitch-black universe is the background of the oil painting.

The nebula of the clouds is the embellishment of the oil painting.

And those stars are the tone of oil painting.

Suddenly, Sikong became an elegant artist, his eyes full of concentration.

A painting knife appeared in Sikong's hand, and Sikong scratched it in front of him, and the color of a fiery red star faded and was dim.

A pencil washer suddenly appeared, and the thousands of hands behind Sikong fished into the pencil washer one after another, and then splashed a mist all over the sky.

The mist fades away the ravines and edges of the star, and even more so its appearance.

Sikong sits on top of the space dust, looking like he has devoted his life to art, painting with ink and dancing towards the starry sky.

One by one, the stars went out and then disappeared.

Patches of nebulae were touched with a few strokes of the brush.

The dark universe and the bright starry sky have become Sikong's pen at this time, and he is at his disposal.

I promise, the stars are disillusioned.

Seeing this, Hua Dan screamed violently, waved his hand and faded away the starry sky, his black and bright hair suddenly turned into blood-stained iron cables, and the cold barbs were faint, and on the barbs, there were even corpses, exactly ninety-nine.

The blood-stained iron rope came to Sikong, and when Sikong saw this, he seemed to be painting on his head, disturbed by someone, and his crazy temperament reappeared, and his eyes were full of coldness.

"Don't you love broken corpses and iron ropes? Then I'll paint a hell for you! ”

Sikong splashed ink, thousands of hands flying, one by one the brushes in his hands.

Now learn and sell, in one second, the hand holding the brush dances back and forth a hundred times in a two-millimeter amplitude.

The palaces are formed, the eaves are hooked, depressed and gray, with white bones as bridges and blood as rivers.

The copper pillars stand in the center of the palace, and the little ghosts come and go like shuttles, burning charcoal fire into the cylinder, and constantly fanning the wind, burning the copper pillars red.

"I am a hell Yama, and you have committed the crime of murder and murder, and you deserve to be in the bronze pillar hell!"

In an instant, the iron cable hanging the corpse was reversed, tied Hua Dan, and hung on the red-hot copper pillar.