Hearing Kafka say this, Frankimir blinked inexplicably.

Frankimir even suspected that the fat-headed, big-eared fellow had never spoken a word of truth since the first day he met Kafka.

He didn't know where this stupid fat pig came from to be so confident, to be so careless, to stare and talk nonsense without worrying at all, and to be debunked by others without embarrassment.

Such a person may be the kind that is often said, an egocentric who lives in an ethereal and beautiful illusion of nothingness made up of a mirage of glorious ambition and perseverance, in whose world the gods of love and beauty are always around, and even God listens to his opinion on the world.

However, this kind of fantasy of foolish dreams, this kind of imaginary fantasy, and infinite obsession with self, how ridiculous and sad it is.

How can a person who has the courage to face life and face himself be intoxicated with such nothingness? The tear-dappled fluorescence is just a helpless lament in life, and those who only live in their own mysterious gardens are conquering the world? Or is it escaping from the world?

Frankimir doesn't know what shaped Kafka's character, but he knows very well that in this world, such people abound, and they have to live in lies every day, using new lies to cover up the old lies.

Yet in the end, all they had was, and still is, was a lie.

Lies that deceive others and lies that deceive yourself.

Frank Mire, secretly scolding Kafacka, when he said this, did he not feel sorry at all.

If it had been someone else, he might have said so. But he was standing at the scene at that time, and anyone could see that scene, if he hadn't made a timely move and let Fraser continue to fight, I was afraid that there would have been no Kafka in the world at this moment.

"Really? But why are you below him? Frank Miir asked, mockingly.

"I don't like to be on it by nature, what if I have such a big belly and crush people." Kafka said eloquently, his face really didn't change and his heart didn't beat.

Frankie Mill glanced at Kafka, too lazy to pay any more attention to the squirting manure guy. In Frankimir's opinion, there was no point in continuing to talk to this unreasonable fellow, and in the end he could not tell what he would say.

Frankimir simply ignored him, and just turned his face away from the dungeon.

In an instant, Frankimir's face showed an incredible expression.

Kafka squinted at Frankimir and noticed that his eyes were straight, as if he had lost his soul, and he was looking straight ahead.

"What's wrong?" Kafka asked, puzzled, in his opinion, this nasty guy is not the kind of person who likes to make a fuss.

Frankimir didn't speak, but just a hollow soul, and pointed to the dimly lit stairway outside the cell door.

Kafka looked up, and he was taken aback for a moment.

I saw two spears, walking down the stairs by themselves, as if they had souls and became living creatures.

What kind of technology is this? Could it be that the technology of the Twin Cities is advanced enough to make unmanned automatic spears?

No matter how advanced it is, it is impossible to have such technology.

What's more, the science and technology of the Twin Cities, even if they are strange and evil, are overstretched compared to the huge Soviets.

How could the Twin Cities have technology that could not exist in the Soviets, but how can we explain what we see in front of us?

It didn't take long for them to get an answer, and it was a ridiculous answer.

It turned out that these two self-walking spears were held in the hands of two short monsters.

To say that they are monsters is not an exaggeration.

These two ugly strange guys, less than a meter tall, hunched over, skinny, with pointy and long noses, longer than their arms, and thin ribbed bodies, with a round and small belly, almost all the teeth in their mouths flew out of their lips, and a three-lock pigtail hanging from the back of their heads.

If they are human beings, maybe few people want to believe it, if they are monsters, everyone will raise their hands in agreement, if it is not for the beauty god to fall asleep, it is absolutely impossible to let such an ugly monster be born in this world.

The escalator wall of the previous corridor blocked the two short figures, giving people the illusion that the spear was walking on its own.

The two little monsters walked down the stairs towards the cell, looking at their strange appearance, even Frankimir and Kafka, the two bold and resolute big guys, couldn't help but break out in a cold sweat.

It's all like a fairy tale leek, or a yaksha in hell.

Before the two little demons came to the prison door, one was busy removing the key to open the prison door, and the other pointed to Kafka and Frankimir standing next to the cell door with the spear in his hand, and said in a sharp voice angrily: "You, and you, come out." ”

With the sound of the key turning inside the keyhole, the rusty cell door was opened. Frankimir and Kafka stared intently at the ugly little demon in front of them, and slowly walked out of the cell.

Obviously, these two little demons are small in stature, and they don't seem to pose any threat, and they even look a little vulnerable.

But their ugly and hideous appearance, and involuntarily, made people feel a chill, and a little indescribable fear was silently born in their hearts.

"Let's go, don't hear it, don't want to cause trouble." A demon said with a spear in his hand to drive away Frankimir and Kafka.

Another demon relocked the cell door and immediately followed him.

"Where is this taking us?" Kafka couldn't help but ask, after so many years of oppression, he didn't expect to become a prisoner today.

"Don't look for hardship, just take your leave, it's boring, don't give Lao Tzu nothing to do." A little demon scolded.

This sounds too harsh. Kafka really wanted to smash the little demon in front of him into meat sauce now.

It's just that I reluctantly consider that this is someone's one-third of an acre, and it is not the time for me to do what I can.

Thinking of this, I had no choice but to suppress my righteous indignation and try to suppress the anger in my heart.

Frankie Mill wasn't as hot as Kafka, he was a heartless guy.

The Gulag's experience seems to have polished his sharpness and allowed him to adapt to this kind of shouting life.

Frankie Mill just quietly looked at the two little demons in front of him, speculating whether these two guys were human or not.

If it is a kind of biochemical beast, but what is the value of creating such a clumsy biochemical beast, it is tantamount to wasting time and money.

Before they knew it, the two little demons drove Frankimir and Kafka, and they were already walking up and down three corridors.

The little demon stopped in front of a dark door and said to Frankimir and Kafka in a shrill voice: "Listen, don't talk nonsense, or I'll kill you at once." ”

After speaking, he stepped forward and slowly pushed open, the black door. As the door gradually opened, the strong light inside the door instantly dispelled the darkness in the passage.

The bright light stung the eyes of Frankmir and Kafka.

The hazy tears forced out by the strong light can be vaguely seen that this is a spacious and bright hall, the decorations on the surrounding walls are magnificent, the ceiling of colored glass is unreachable, and the magnificence of this hall is no less than Zhang Yue's humble house.

The goblin drove Frankimir and Kafka forward, their eyes adjusting to the strong light and seeing everything in the hall clearly.

Surrounding them is a ring of beautifully crafted metal railings.

Outside the bars sat all sorts of people, some looking like wealthy merchants, others looking like beggars. Some wore long braids, some wore high top hats, and countless people dressed in strange clothes.

Those sitting in the hall seemed to be a little absent-minded. Some people threw garbage on the seats next to them, some people spit out their coughed up sputum everywhere, and some people unscrupulously gouged their nostrils in full view of everyone.

These strange-looking fellows sat along the wall of another large gate around the rostrum, leaving a passage in the middle, saying that it was not big or small.

At one end of the aisle sat eleven very strange fellows, and in front of their seats stood a sign in gold letters with the words "Jury" written on it.

On the other end of the aisle sat five people, three of whom Frankimir and Kafka recognized at a glance.

It was none other than Feng Laiyi's Sister Yao, the silver-haired old man who was robbed by Kafka, and the bald man "Mixed River Dragon".

In front of the seats of these five people, there is also a gold-lettered signboard with the words "plaintiff" written on it.

In the center of the aisle, there is a small shop window, which at first glance looks very elegant, but it is a pity that how it looks like the special window of the Amsterdam station street girl. There was also a gold-lettered sign on the top of the window, with the words "Witness" written on it.

Opposite the window is the rostrum, which is the most luxurious place in the entire hall. Three tall golden chairs, seemingly made of gold. In the center of the high-end mahogany table is a small gold hammer with exquisite carving. Above the rostrum, there is a huge unicorn beast carved, majestic and sacred, blazing, and two huge eyes are even more imposing and aggressive.

You don't need to ask to imagine that the place where Frankimir and Kafka are standing is the dock in this courtroom hall.

It looks like they're going to be brought to trial.

"What's going on?" Kafka asked in a somewhat dazed whisper.

"Shut up, no one asks you, don't speak without permission." The little demon behind him stabbed Kafka's fat ass with the spear in his hand and said.

Frankimir stabbed Kafka with his right arm, and Kafka shrugged his shoulders and glared at Frankimir.

It seemed that Kafka did not understand what he meant, so Frankimir pointed to the audience, and Kafka looked in the direction of Frankimir's finger, and in the audience, several figures were like pearls in the mire, like cranes in pheasants.