The captain was stunned for a moment, and secretly scolded you for not saying it earlier, so he had to fight his best to justify his name: "The bone injury caused by the wooden plank, the family can't see it from the outside, and when the body is returned to the family, it is said that it was died of the flu, and it is enough to add a monthly salary as a bereavement pension." Pen ~ fun ~ Pavilion www.biquge.info and assuming that this person has a party, then after this person's party sees it, they will also weigh the consequences and give up unrealistic intimidation actions. I'm also here for your safety. ”

Oppenheimer was now the time to make a snake shadow, and he didn't want to kill for a while because he was afraid of another bloody character in his nightmare. As soon as he heard what the captain said, Oppenheimer recognized his cruel methods and acquiesced in his murder, but felt more secure that he had a murderous bodyguard to keep vigil for him, as if the evil spirits could be dispersed by violence.

"Forget it if you die, beautify the body, prepare a pension, and let the family claim the body. Oppenheimer's eyelids fought, and he shrunk into the quilt with a grunt, and ordered the captain: "Don't go, keep vigil in the bedroom." I don't feel very solid tonight. ”

"Don't worry about it. The weak are like rotting weeds, destined to rot into black soil, providing nutrients for towering trees. Their dry bones are piled up on the earth, and the towering canopy of trees can soak up the sun, which is the law of Mother Nature. The captain enlightened his employer and took the opportunity to brush his favorability: "Please take care of your health and don't be tired by nightmares." ”

"Hmm. Oppenheimer waved his hand, ordered the captain to blow out the candles, and then fell asleep peacefully.

After cutting off his worries, Oppenheimer slept soundly and fell straight into sleep as if weightless.

But the nightmare still came as promised.

He dreamed of his dark bedroom again. He dreamed that he woke up stunned, the screams of the bodyguards running for death, the corridors filled with the crunch of bones and the dull sound of limbs, and he saw the captain of the guard draw his sword and rush out the door, and a puddle of blood splattered on the ground in his field of vision like a pouring of red paint. He sat up in horror and felt the slippery greasy wall, and then he saw the blood secreting from the wallpaper, which was terrible in the moonlight.

Oppenheimer knew it was a nightmare, and he knew it well. He tried to flee, but his feet were pressed under the covers, and he heard the screams of all kinds rippling in the corridor outside the door, like a slaughtering feast, and the moonlight outside the window distorted like scarlet smoke, and the pungent smell of zinc and iron rushed into his nostrils. Then he saw the captain of the private army fall straight into the door, and the iron sword fell on the carpet, and it was like a "poof" like a smash into a sticky puddle.

The bright light of the hallway shone on the door, like the light of the outside invading the darkness of the bedroom. Immediately, a rickety shadow was cast on the carved rosewood door, with a high left shoulder and a low right shoulder, carrying a heavy iron sword, limping and approaching, and the clear black shadow on the door gradually enlarged, and was about to probe in.

Oppenheimer's eyes widened in horror, and he tore his face hard, urging himself to wake up from the nightmare as quickly as possible, but he slept so deeply that he couldn't shout with his mouth wide open, and could only think hard in his mind: "Mendelssohn!

Suddenly, Mendelssohn's white-haired shawl head reached through the door, his face curled up with a knife, and the bright red marks of the knife cut his face like a badly planned road, splitting his face into a plate of barely patchwork of Dongpo meat, and the bright red sticky thick pulp dripping through the knife marks. A subtle smile bloomed into this miserable face, and he muttered, "You owe the Mendelssohn family fifty thousand gold and five hundred and eighty-three lives, and I want to confirm the interest." ”

Mendelssohn was draped in a mess of rags, scruffy blood stains as black as oil, except for the long cream-white hair draped over his shoulders, pure white and immaculate, showing off the natural beauty of the Mendelssohn family.

Oppenheimer was afraid of the human head floating in the doorway, his eyes widened, and he trembled for a while, and finally awakened his paralyzed muscles, opened his mouth awkwardly, and cried out like a babbling baby: "Follow ...... ...... with me That's okay! You ...... Your death is ...... A long time ago, a long time ago,"

"Was our death decided a long time ago?" said Bank Manager Mendelssohn smiled kindly, climbed the door with both hands, and sent his body into the door, and more dirty arms sprang out from behind, clinging to the door frame with all hands and feet, and stuffing more bodies into the bedroom: "Oppenheimer, you owe Mendelssohn 50,000 gold and 583 lives, how will you pay it back?

Oppenheimer was horrified to see that Chief Mendelssohn's dirty robe could not cover his torso and limbs, and that his rickety buttocks were sewn together with the throat of a noblewoman, whose buttocks were connected to a mutilated throat of the elderly. All the heads were horribly broken, the back of the head hung on the back, dangling on the back, and the slippery eyes were fixed on Oppenheimer, which spewed out brutal flames, and all the flesh was hung only in ragged bloody clothes, one by one, end to end, with human limbs, connected into a white centipede, which was dazzled by the dense hands and feet when it crawled, and the beautiful limbs were eerie when it wriggled.

Those snow-white human bodies that were tragically connected stretched out in thrilling expositions, crawled into the door with thousands of hands, and rudely piled countless flesh bodies for people to see. The screams in the hallway had died away, and more of the human centipede scrambled into the bedroom, scrambling to keep an eye on Oppenheimer.

Mendelssohn looked like an elegant viper, blinking to the bed, overlooking Oppenheimer, and the three pairs of feet of him, his wife, and his son were like the six legs of a centipede, rippling in the air, like a reptile ready to hunt: "The bed you sleep on, the silverware you use, the champagne you drink, all Mendelssohn's money is spent...... What will you pay back......"

Oppenheimer cried out in a terrible voice: "Who will save me!"

"Who can save you? Captain of the mercenaries who are with you? God has forsaken you, go to hell with us!" Mendelssohn, with a disgraced face, suddenly picked up the mutilated body of the captain of the guard, and stood indifferently and proudly at the head of the bed, while the captain of the guard was lifted in the air with bloody fingers through his chest, and his legs hung straight down, turning into a dark and tragic silhouette, swaying slightly in the moonlight, and blood dripping from the tips of his boots.

"Captain bodyguard, help me!" Oppenheimer was so frightened that he was overwhelmed by cockroaches, and he was so frightened that he wanted to kill himself, so that he could at least get rid of the nightmare.

His head was tingling with fright, and the fear in his chest erupted from his throat, turning into an exclamation, which actually broke through the calming effect of the potion, and sat up with his eyes wide open, and clutched the quilt in sweat, gasping violently.

Another nightmare. (To be continued.) )