The seven red suns, which are suspended behind the God in Red, representing seven horror stories, have new candidates...
"However, the power of this story is not enough." Catherine continued to add with the vibration of playing cards, ""Blood Red Wedding" needs to absorb more fears before it can be promoted to that one's 'treasure'.
"In order to nourish this story with more fear, and in order to harvest more soul fragments for himself, the master of the City of Double Suns offered the fallen Wordsworth a price that he could not refuse..."
Sean nodded.
At this time, the back of the young man who was buried in the case was getting farther and farther away.
"Wordsworth knew that he had done such a thing and could never be seen in the world again.
"However, he desperately hopes that his story can be moved to the stage, be seen by the audience, and make them resonate emotionally...
"So, the condition given by the Red God is - He will open a theater specifically to perform his plays.
"The required condition is Wordsworth's soul."
A spark ignited a ray of light. Sean already knew who was the person who used skillful techniques to transfer his hatred to the armor after Sean "wrote" George back to his hometown...
The one under the desk lamp, writing with human blood, Mr. Wordsworth.
…
"You...can't escape."
A strange and chaotic voice sounded.
In the darkness, the red morning light dimmed.
Two strange red suns gradually rose, illuminating the "City of Two Suns" with countless spiers pointing straight into the sky.
On that city, in the mist, the figures of gods in red clothes and bronze crowns were floating.
Although His true self is not here, he still stares at this place across incredible dimensions.
Closer to the darkness, Wordsworth was immersed in writing, writing the fate of Sean and others.
Something was coming in the darkness, with sonorous and neat steps.
Sean and the three of them squinted their eyes and looked into the darkness...
It was an army, walking slowly in the darkness.
Every soldier in that army is wearing blood-red armor with a broad sword in hand...
"What should I do..." Moonlight was not afraid, but he raised his arms without both hands in vain.
He wanted to resist, but had no strength.
Catherine on the other side still had sharp eyes.
"Don't be afraid." Sean realized the most important point, turned his head in the darkness, and said softly, "The story is over, isn't it?"
As if breaking the author's hypnosis, the three people suddenly escaped from their roles in the story.
Sean was still the New Testament reporter in the stand-up collared trench coat. He slightly pressed his hat, and a pair of penetrating eyes could be seen under the brim of the hat.
Catherine placed her slender fingers on the rounded and tight jeans, returning to her role as a bright actress.
Moonlight, on the other hand, adjusted her tie and looked at those white and slender hands with joy...
A little starlight appeared under Sean's hat, and the mist like a nebula expanded and spread, gently surrounding him.
The moonlight appeared on the forehead, and a layer of light silver appeared on the moonlight face. The silver gradually turned into a peaceful face, and the sound of piano sounded in the distance.
The purple phantom bloomed on her face, the gorgeous feathers stretched out like leaves under the spring rain, the tears of black gems and the embellishments of amethyst appeared on the mask...
Sea of Twilight, Soloist under the Moon, Violet Nightingale.
The explorer masks also appeared on their faces in time, blocking the mysterious prying eyes...
"He's bluffing." Catherine squinted her eyes and looked at Wordsworth's back.
An entire blood-red army was just a reaction to Sean telling the truth.
He wanted to frighten the courage of the three of them, so that they would give up resistance and surrender.
The playwright obviously did not expect that he would be facing three senior explorers.
Sean's spiritual essence opened, and his spiritual power flowed, integrating the power of the Immortal God King and the "Scroll of Return", resisting with all his strength the suppression of the evil god's surrender far outside the dimension, and pointing to the words still written in the distance. Wordsworth.
"Wordsworth, this is the story you want to write?!"
The tone was full of deliberate contempt and endless anger.
“A story that loses all sanity at the end and leaves the audience walking away with a confused expression?”
The rustling stopped, and the figure stopped writing.
"What's a good story?" Sean growled.
"Are you letting the author vent his emotions and desires?"
The back was undulating, as if it had been stabbed with an unhealed wound...
"'Blood Red Wedding' is not a good story at all - it is just a monster created by your twisted psychology!"
Wordsworth rose suddenly from his seat.
He turned around with the pen splattered with blood in his hand.
In the darkness, it was an indescribable face.
Chaos, rage, distortion...
The facial features on the face can no longer be seen clearly, as if they were scribbled on by a laughing devil...
Faces that would directly have a mental impact on ordinary people, but Sean and the other three just watched calmly——
Standing here are three Queens!
"Don't insult my story!" He roared loudly, and a dark storm blew from behind him.
In the storm, Sean walked towards the stubborn author step by step.
The New Testament reporter simply whispered, "Stop, Wordsworth."
“I’m sorry for what happened.
"However, I have to say...
"After being filled with hatred and twisted emotions,
"Such a creation is meaningless."
"Stop writing."
The storm gradually subsided, and only the roar of the evil god could be heard floating in vain in the distant sky...
It's another dimension, it doesn't belong here.
Staring at the figure in the darkness, Sean continued: "I am a reporter who will tell everyone the true face of the story.
"Your sins cannot be erased.
"But your script will eventually have your name written on it..."
The body of the resentful spirit holding the pen stopped violently rising and falling day and night.
Behind him, the distant City of Double Suns shook as if there was an earthquake.
The strange and ethereal roar came from the sky on both days, becoming more and more distant.
The God 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 low.
Drops of blood fell from the tip of the pen to the ground, as if they were his tears.
"Why did everything turn out like this?"
You must, take away that pen...
Only then can all this truly calm down.
Holding his breath and concentrating, 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 Wraith Wordsworth began to cover 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 legions in the darkness merged into the shadows again like silent stone sculptures.
The sky in Shuangri was shaking, but due to the unknown dimension, it could not directly harm Sean and his party.
After hearing what Wordsworth said, Sean frowned: "Where shouldn't I leave?"
The body of the resentful spirit is shattered inch by inch, and the darkness is drifting away with the wind, revealing its pure soul...
Wordsworth is re-entering the spiritual circle...
He didn't answer Sean's words, but just raised his face from his hands again.
It was a clean and calm face, looking directly at Sean with innocent eyes.
Sean believed that if fate hadn't played a huge joke on him, this young man would have accomplished something.
"Thank you……"
Then he took out an old ticket stub from his pocket.
Wordsworth's soul stared at the ticket stub: "Here, there are some stories worth digging..."
Through the glimmer of Wordsworth's soul, Sean and the others saw clearly...
It was a gorgeous golden ticket stub, with a flying and agile figure depicted on it.
"Midnight... Paradise?" Sean muttered the words on the golden ticket stub in his mind.
He raised his head. Wordsworth had left, leaving only an empty darkness.
Sean frowned in confusion: "He said he shouldn't have left there in the first place...
Staring at the ticket stub reflecting the golden light: "Then...where exactly is it?"
