The Modern Age of the Mysterious

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Suspended behind the **** in red, the seven red suns representing the seven horror stories have a new candidate...

"However, the power of this story is not enough." Catherine continued to add with the shock of playing cards, ""Blood Red Wedding" needs to absorb more fear before it can be promoted to that one's 'treasure'.

"In order to nourish this story with more fear, and to harvest more soul fragments to support himself, the master of the City of Two Suns offered a price that the fallen Wordsworth could not refuse..."

Sean nodded.

At this time, the back of the young man who buried the case was getting farther and farther away.

"Wordsworth knew that he had done such a thing, and it was impossible to show his face in the world again.

"However, he really hopes that his story can be moved to the stage, can be seen by the audience, and can make them emotionally resonate...

"So, the condition given by the red **** is that he will open a theater to stage his repertoire.

"The required condition is Wordsworth's soul."

A little spark ignited a bright light, and Sean already knew who was the one who transferred his hatred to the armor after Sean "written" George back to his hometown by using skilled techniques...

The one who kept writing in human blood under the lamp, Mr. Wordsworth.

...

"You...you can't escape."

A strange and chaotic voice sounded.

In the darkness, the crimson morning light dimmed.

Two strange red suns gradually rose, illuminating the "City of Two Suns" with countless spires pointing towards the sky.

On that city, in the misty fog, the figure of the **** in red and wearing a bronze crown floated.

Although his deity is not here, he still crosses an unimaginable dimension and stares at this place.

In the nearer darkness, Wordsworth was burying his head in writing, writing the fate of Sean and others.

Something came from the darkness, with sonorous and neat steps.

The three of them, Sean, squinted and looked into the darkness...

It was an army, walking slowly in the dark.

Every soldier in that army is a blood-red armor with a broad sword in his hand...

"What to do..." Moonlight was not afraid, but he raised his arms without both hands in vain.

He wanted to resist, but had no strength.

On the other side, Catherine's eyes were still extremely sharp.

"Don't be afraid." Sean realized the most crucial point, turned his head in the dark, and said softly, "The story is over, isn't it?"

As if breaking the author's hypnosis, the three suddenly escaped from the characters in the story.

Sean is still a new contract reporter in a stand-up trench coat. He slightly pressed his hat, and he could see a pair of insightful eyes under the brim of the hat.

Katherine put her fingers on the tight jeans due to the rounded curvature, and returned to her identity as a bright actress.

And Moonlight, straightening his tie, looked at those white, slender hands with joy...

A little star appeared under Sean's hat, and the nebula-like mist expanded and spread, gently surrounding him.

Yuehua appeared on the forehead, and a layer of pale silver appeared on Yueguang's face. The silver gradually became a peaceful face, and a piano sounded in the distance.

A purple phantom bloomed on her face, gorgeous feathers stretched like leaves under a spring rain, tears of black gems, and embellishments of amethyst appeared on the mask...

Sea of ​​Twilight, Soloist under the Moon, Violet Nightingale.

The mask of the explorer also appeared on their faces in a timely manner, blocking the mysterious prying eyes...

"He's bluffing." Catherine squinted and looked at Wordsworth's back.

A whole blood-red legion is just a stress response to Sean telling the truth.

I want to frighten the three of them, so that they can give up their resistance and be captured.

The playwright obviously did not expect that he was facing three senior explorers.

Sean's spiritual essence opened up, his spiritual power circulated, combining the power of the Indestructible God King and "The Ancient Scroll of Returning", fully resisting the evil spirit's sense of surrender that was far beyond the dimension, pointing to the writings that were still in the distance. Wordsworth.

"Wordsworth, this is the story you want to write?!"

His tone was full of deliberate contempt and endless anger.

"A story that loses all sanity at the end and leaves the audience with a confused look?"

The rustling stopped, and the back figure stopped writing.

"What should a good story be like?" Sean growled.

"Is it letting the author vent his emotions and desires?"

The back figure was undulating, as if being stabbed in an unhealed wound...

"'Blood Red Wedding' is not a good story at all - it's just a monster created by your twisted psychology!"

Wordsworth rose abruptly from his seat.

He turned around with the blood-splashing pen in his hand.

In the dark, it was an indescribable face.

Chaos, rage, twist...

The facial features on the face can no longer be seen clearly, as if they were randomly smeared by a laughing devil...

The face that would directly cause a mental shock to ordinary people, but the three of them just watched calmly——

Standing here are three Queen rank!

"No, insult, my, story!" he growled loudly, a dark storm blowing from behind him.

In the storm, Sean walked towards the stubborn author step by step.

The New Testament reporter just whispered, "Stop writing, Wordsworth."

"I regret what happened.

"However, I have to say...

"Filled with hatred and twisted emotions,

"Such creations are meaningless."

"Stop writing."

The storm gradually subsided, and only the roar of the evil **** could be heard in vain swaying in the distant sky...

That's another dimension that doesn't belong here.

Staring at the figure in the dark, Sean continued: "I am a reporter and will tell everyone the true face of the story.

"Your guilt cannot be erased.

"However, your script will eventually have your name written on it..."

The resentful spirit holding the pen in his hand stopped the ups and downs of rage day and night.

Behind him, the distant city of Two Suns shook like an earthquake.

An ethereal, strange roar came from the sky of Double Sun, becoming more and more distant.

The **** in red knew that he could no longer enslave this soul.

Sean walked over to Wordsworth.

He saw this originally innocent, stubborn, and serious young man, covering his face with one hand, while the pen filled with the teacher's blood was hanging down low.

Blood, drop by drop, fell from the tip of the pen to the ground, as if it were his tears.

"Why is everything like this?"

Gotta, take that pen off...

All this can really calm down.

Holding his breath, Sean slowly stretched out his hand and took the pen that had turned scarlet from Wordsworth's hand.

Black cracks spread from his hands, and the Wraith Wordsworth began to hide his face and cry: "Maybe...

"Maybe I shouldn't have left there at all..."

In the distance, the City of Two Suns swayed and dissipated like a mirage.

The Red Armored Corps in the dark, like a silent stone sculpture, reintegrated into the shadows.

The sky of Double Sun was shaking, but because of the unknown dimension, He couldn't directly hurt Sean and his party.

Hearing what Wordsworth said, Sean frowned: "Where shouldn't I leave?"

The body of the resentful spirit is shattered inch by inch~www.NovelMTL.com~ The darkness is drifting away with the wind, revealing the pure soul...

Wordsworth is re-entering the ring...

He didn't answer Sean's words, just raised his face again from his hands.

It was a clean and calm face, with innocent eyes looking directly at Sean.

Sean believed that if fate hadn't played a huge joke on him, the young man would have done something.

"Thank you……"

Then he took an old ticket stub out of his pocket.

Wordsworth's soul stared at the ticket stub: "Here, there are some more... stories..."

Through the gleam of Wordsworth's soul, the three of Sean saw clearly...

It was a golden ornate ticket stub with a flying agile figure depicted on it,

"Midnight... Paradise?" Sean read the words on the golden ticket stub lightly.

He looked up, and Wordsworth had left, leaving nothing but darkness.

Sean frowned in confusion: "He said he shouldn't have left there in the first place...

Staring at the ticket stub that reflected the golden light: "Then... what exactly is it?"

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