The night, like a resting abyssal beast, is low and long, but it cannot ignore the terror and murder it contains. Pen? Interesting? Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 After all, the beast that is awakened is very ferocious, and when it wakes up, it will use its endless anger to burn all distractions.

Dark clouds drifted by, obscuring the moonlight, and it seemed that even the moon did not want to see that hell.

Through the cracks in the clouds, the moonlight fell like a silver veil and fell on the body of a young man.

Dressed in black and with black hair, there is no trace of waves in the black pupils, no joy and no worries, no sorrow and no anger. There seems to be no human, no, human affection for life.

In the eyes, it looks like a cold pool for 10,000 years, without a trace of waves. Yes, only endless cold and deep. Yes, only the cold that freezes people's hearts freezes all life.

And the blood flowed under his feet like a stream.

The corpses have been piled up into a hill.

There is a deep fear on everyone's face, no one's eyes are closed, and no one's face is calm.

The blood flowed slowly, and I don't know whether it was intentional or unintentional, it seemed to surround the young man. It seems that it is the dead souls, who still can't forget the fear of dying, and still want revenge, to take away the Grim Reaper who took their lives.

It's a pity that if you are alive, you are like an ant, and when you die, what can you do?

Dying under his hands, these souls were not even qualified to stay in the human world, and were directly sent to the underworld, and went with a group of wandering spirits to the Yellow Spring.

This is still the result of the mercy of his subordinates. If this is not the case, none of these souls will be left behind, and all of them will be scattered. It won't take much effort for him.

Mountains of corpses, a sea of blood.

This is like a scene of Senluo Hell, but it fits the name Senluo Hall.

Harvesting these lives did not affect his state of mind in any way, and it seemed to be just a matter of casual action, like picking a few weeds on the side of the road. Weeds are just picked, they won't be kept, they will just be discarded, the difference is just whether they are thrown in the trash or on the side of the road. Will you be happy for a weed and sad for a weed?

Without looking at the corpses and blood all over the ground, he moved, and his body walked lightly, like a fairy playing the world. The sound of footsteps was so small that it was almost inaudible, but when it fell on the ears of some people, it seemed to ring in their ears, as if they were knocking on their hearts.

Under the low eaves, a lantern was lit, bringing a glimmer of light to the dark night with the dim light.

In the dim light, a man with a scruffy beard and a melancholy look in his eyes. Beside him lay a young man who was seven or eight points similar to him, a little younger than him, but the similarity between the two could be clearly seen. It seems that it is a copy of his youth.

However, although the young man's body was still warm, he had stopped breathing and his heartbeat, and he had lost all the physical activity that a living person should have.

It's like a corpse.

The young man's expression was serene, but there was also some unerased horror, as if something terrible had happened.

He is also a life affected by the wrath of death.

When he died, he, like everyone else, had a deep horror on his face, and he did not blink an eye. However, it seems that the melancholy middle-aged man can make him feel safe, like a warm haven, protecting him and allowing him to sleep peacefully.

Under the eaves, there was a drinking bucket of 30 liters, but it was empty.

In the air, there was a strong pungent smell, which was gasoline.

Suddenly, a crisp footstep seemed to sound in his ears, and the middle-aged man looked at the young man beside him.

I saw that the young man's originally peaceful face had become frightened at some point, and his eyes were wide open, as if he wanted to put the sky in it.

The face, which was already pale from the cessation of blood after death, is now even paler, whiter than white paper. What's even more incredible is that there was a wisp of cold sweat on his face.

Even if he is dead, even if his soul has entered the underworld, the body's independent memory still makes him naturally have the expression of fear.

A very rough hand that was not very thick, but full of calluses, reached out. The palm of his hand stroked away the wisps of cold sweat on his face and stroked his wide open eyes.

The young man was asleep, though his face was still pale, though there were still traces of fear. But it was much more peaceful, as if it was sleeping, and his pale face was nothing more than a nightmare.

The middle-aged man's expression was even more sad, and a pair of eyes seemed to be able to see the depths of the soul, which made people forget it at a glance.

This is a pair of eyes with endless sorrow and endless melancholy. If these eyes were in the city, if they were seen by a scout, they would probably take him away.

Trample! ~Trample! ~

The sound of crisp footsteps seemed to ring in the ears, each sound was like the beating of a drum hammer, and every sound was like a knock in the heart.

No doubts, no fears.

The middle-aged man touched the young man's head dotingly, and then slowly stood up.

In his hand, there was a pitch-black wooden stick, I don't know what material it was. The head of the stick, with a rusty tip. A few broken and broken cherry blossoms hung naturally at the junction between the spear head and the wooden stick.

Tightening the spear in his hand, his gaze moved with it, looking in an unknown direction. There, hidden in the darkness, you can't see anything, only darkness.

Trample! ~Trample! ~

As the footsteps got closer and closer, the middle-aged man's expression also fluctuated slightly.

The footsteps were closer, and by the dim light, it seemed that something had emerged from the darkness.

The first thing I saw was a pair of feet. Stepping on the ground, it did not splash dust, it seemed to be stepping on the air. However, the rhythm of the footsteps falling coincided with the footsteps ringing in my heart. It is self-evident who the other party is.

In the dim light, from the feet to the head, the figure of a slightly emaciated young man slowly emerged.

Black clothes, black pants, black shoes, black hair.

The whole person, except for the bare skin that was slightly white, was completely pitch black, and seemed to be a messenger who had come out of the darkness.

A pair of pitch-black eyes, it seems to be the interface of a black hole, where there is an abyss that is darker than the night, it seems that a few more glances, even the soul will be sucked out.

Tightening the spear in his hand, the middle-aged man stepped forward, looking at each other with a pair of melancholy eyes, at this young man about the same age as his son.

"It's you, kill my son." The middle-aged man spoke slowly, his voice was a little hoarse, with a thick sadness and helplessness.

The young man ignored him and continued on his way.

"Don't you want to say more... The middle-aged man sighed helplessly.

"In that case, let's not say more."

(To be continued.) )