Kraft realized he had made a "don't think about the pink elephant" mistake.
Sure enough, as soon as he heard the reminder, the monk who felt something strange under his feet immediately lowered his head reflexively, trying to see clearly the changes on the ground.
The almost non-reflective liquid surface rippled beneath our feet, and the team seemed to be suspended in the abyss.
The shape and texture of the liquid is too strange, like a thick shadow that cannot be dispersed by light, or a curtain that hides something. It has an unparalleled attraction for people, and it is difficult to resist the urge to reach out and touch it.
He bent down slightly, and his fingertips touched the dark hallucinatory liquid surface. The sounds in his ears became distant and unclear, giving him a sense of tranquility like falling alone when he is about to wake up from a dream.
A nearby explosion shattered the tranquility.
"Stop!"
Kraft used the scabbard to knock open the two outstretched hands, grabbed the other man's shoulder, awakened them from their initial confusion, and then strode towards the end of the team. The monk at the end had blocked the outside sound.
, complete the turn and take the first step towards the shield wall.
The chaotic thing is still moving, and the amorphous tissue in the gap is shrinking and stretching, but the speed is visibly slowing down to the naked eye.
It seems that the large amount of black liquid has an inhibitory effect. It enters a semi-solidified state like a piece of cooled magma, and accordingly loses the ability to move freely as a fluid.
The reddish-brown sharp object rich in iron oxide is spit forward, with a barb-like hook, trying to catch the target.
It was a long halberd, which was quite rare outside regular battlefields. The wooden handle was wrapped and mechanized by a substance suspected to be calcium, forming a callus-like texture.
Kraft forcibly dragged the unconsciously struggling monk away from the thing. On the face entangled in pain, a strange smile appeared from the corner of his mouth, as if he saw the door of salvation in heaven opening in this chaos.
One thousand melting sounds struck at the soul, and the pain, as heavy as swallowing mercury alive, pulled at the spirit and body, awakening the negative information deep in the nerves.
In the few seconds that approached, the memory of being injured and blistered by the flames for the first time came back to my fingertips. The ribs that were hit during training a few years ago seemed to be cracked. The boring and boring struggle of copying and reciting day after day invaded my mind, and even
Late one night, the confusion about the future became clear and painful.
A new understanding was born, or awakened - consciousness' dominance over the body and identity is an illusion, and the body is the cage of consciousness, imprisoning it in this world.
The essence is to look down from a higher perspective of time and space, and what you see is a narrow, restrictive, restricted world, a world filled with all kinds of pain.
Existence is pain, and the greatest pain lies in knowing one's own pain clearly.
It's like being forever trapped in the moment when the perspective of spiritual senses is cut out. The sense of claustrophobia puts the consciousness in a suffocation without threshold and unable to adapt.
There is one and only one solution, infinitely expanding and converging until they can break through the boundaries and return to where they came from, the source in another world, hanging high in the sky.
A round celestial body rose in the sky of memory. It was neither the sun nor the full moon. It was broken into pieces. They were fragments of the celestial body, scattered wills.
This call, almost irresistible, was particularly strong in Kraft's senses.
He tried his best to control the urge to plunge into it, dragging the person with one hand and continuing to retreat.
The advancement of the shield wall came to a complete halt. Kraft realized that his previous guesses about the black liquid were at least partially correct. Its inhibitory properties could well control the propagation tendency, but he did not expect it to be used in large quantities for countermeasures.
This kind of thing.
The wave of chaos that chased them all the way began to recede, and the semi-solidified part was pulled back into the maze by the part that had not yet entered the corridor, disappearing into the darkness without a trace, as bizarre as its arrival.
The viscous liquid under your feet was replaced by a solid, gravelly texture. Slices of new crystal clusters covered the ground, and the soles of your boots sank into them, with tiny particles falling down when you lifted your feet.
After just a short while, they crystallized again.
"Okay, it's okay for now." Kraft put down his hands, indicating that the frozen people could move freely, "Don't sit on the ground, the edges of these crystals are very sharp."
They are safe, temporarily.
We counted the number of people and luckily no one was left behind. It must be said that it was a miracle in this kind of encounter.
The reverberations of pain are still echoing, and obsessive-compulsive disorder brings out all kinds of negative feelings that have settled at the bottom of their minds, making people realize the terrible thing. They have always been struggling in a sea of pain, but they are just accustomed to it.
【You come!】
There seems to be a call coming from the maze, inviting you to embark on the road of "return".
Intense cold sweat broke out from the monks' foreheads. Now they knew what the "kingdom of heaven" in the pagans' mouth meant - existing in another world, hanging high in the sky. In that place overlooking the present world from a distance, all pain would end.
I have to admit that when the chaotic things are approaching, this kind of summons is indeed very tempting. It is like making people realize that they are in hell and opening a window to liberation. It is impossible not to yearn for it.
"That is……?"
"Be careful! The road to heaven must be difficult." The priest sternly killed the discussion, "Only the door of hell has no key."
"Follow the teachings." The monk who was dragged back straightened his back. Hearing Green's words, he quickly nodded in agreement, and then found that the others were staring at him with an unfriendly expression.
"What's wrong?"
"Why are you laughing?"
The monk who was reminded touched the sore and swollen facial muscles, pulling the corners of his mouth as if his cheeks were hung by nails, maintaining a mask-like smile.
He tried to rub and smooth it with his hands, but found that the smile was not the body's own initiative, but the joyful yearning from the heart, which could not be concealed and showed on the face.
"Brother Turner?" Green came up with a serious look and wanted to put his hand on his shoulder, but Craft quickly backed away from the monk, stopping the priest who wanted to comfort his subordinate.
This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading! "Be careful, he was too close just now, something doesn't seem right."
Green's first reaction was to heed the advice and stop, but he looked at Kraft and could not find anything other than residual pain on the professor's face.
He silently took a step sideways, keeping enough distance from the weirdly smiling monk and professor to react in an emergency.
"Turner, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." He replied affirmatively, speaking clearly and with a slightly distant sense of erraticness in his tone, "It can't be better than now."
The priest hid his hands under his robe and moved them towards his waist covertly.
This action did not escape the monk's eyes. He was familiar enough with Green's habits to understand its meaning, "Didn't you all see it?"
He asked in disbelief, unable to understand why Green didn't feel the same way, and was trying to describe what he felt incoherently.
But no matter how you organize your words, you cannot convey the unimaginable charm of that celestial body to others, which just confirms the view that the Lord cannot be accurately described in the holy scriptures.
"Can't you see? That's..."
"That's not it." The cold light touched Brother Turner's Adam's apple. Green's tone remained calm on the surface, but he could feel the hidden anger.
"I said, that's not it. Brother Turner, if you dare to continue to compare that kind of thing with Heavenly Father, I can only expel you from the church for blasphemy."
"It's not me who deserves to be expelled, it's those who hold high positions but hide the true meaning of the Kingdom of Heaven." Brother Turner gradually retreated, but the sword edge followed suit and was always pressed against his neck, ready to slit his trachea at any time.
"I have only seen the hat on the relief when the bishop took office."
"It doesn't mean anything, anyone can carve it." Green did not waver, his hand remained steady, holding the sword flat without any trembling.
Even Kraft was a little surprised. He had seen a lot of religious people, but this kind of spiritual support that seemed to be relatively solid in ordinary times would often disintegrate or deteriorate quickly after contact with abnormal phenomena, and he
No obvious signs were seen on Father Green.
"Listen, Turner, Heavenly Father teaches people to do good deeds and repent before they can ascend to the kingdom of heaven." The secret anger grew in Green, reflected in his gradually rising tone, "The emphasis is on doing good deeds and repentance, not the latter."
"But the Kingdom of Heaven is..."
"If there are no prerequisites, it's not the kingdom of heaven!" Unknowingly, the two of them advanced and retreated, and had taken more than ten steps closer to the entrance of the corridor. "Stop!"
Brother Turner jerked back to avoid the vital point and fled the way he had come.
Green could have chased and slashed his throat, but the sword-drawing movement of Kraft's shadow behind him made him instantly alert, and he chose to turn back to defend first.
The two swords intersected, and he saw that the sword that was stabbing his back was stopped with a sharp and sharp sound, and the attacker wore a mask-like smile.