Chapter 218 The Art of Death!

[End of the God Station] Remind book friends to keep in mind: Website URL: www.xinwanben.com Remember in a second, never lose it!

Here, this is "purgatory", but now, there is something more called original flavor.

Just like the imitations of some big international brands, the difference in quality is very small, and even some imitations are better than the real ones in quality, but the real ones have an atmosphere that belongs to them in the eyes of consumers , of his purity.

at the moment,

The real devil comes,

all beings are equal,

before hell,

collective,

trembling!

The instruments in each laboratory trembled at this time, as if they had sensed a magnetic field and calling, and the previous murder weapons and tools seemed to have their own consciousness at this time.

They began to cheer, they became active, and they couldn't wait any longer, waiting for a new round of satiation belonging to the devil.

There was the sound of chains rubbing, the clashing of scalpels and forceps, the creaking of stretcher carts, the rustling of doors and windows, and even the incineration workshop where corpses were cremated.

There are also ashes,

Fly around.

One after another, high or low, neat or chaotic, were perfectly integrated at this time, forming a passionate rhythm, just like Beethoven's "Symphony of Destiny". The prelude kicked off and the climax came.

This is a kind of aura, but also a kind of rendering, truly eerie, truly terrifying, a bit like candlelight on the table, it will not bring any taste change to the dishes,

But this sense of form,

indispensable.

Zhou Ze, who is missing half of his arm, walks in this research institute, he walks very slowly;

Looking at myself eighty years ago carrying out his own judgment and his own killing,

first,

Zhou Ze really realized that,

die,

It really is an art.

with its own rhythm,

Contains its unique charm,

It's like a good wine that has been cellared for many years. Before I drank it, I was already fascinated by the aroma of the wine, but now I sip it slowly, the aroma of the wine enters from the mouth, flows through the tip of the nose, and finally falls into the stomach, with a hot taste Attacked all over the body in an instant.

It's so comfortable and addictive that you can hardly restrain yourself from wanting to fuck!

The white coats were like headless flies running back and forth in the research institute, screaming, crying, and roaring. When the identities of the devil and Malu were switched, it turned out that there was no such thing as a demon. When it comes to who is more noble than whom, in the same position and situation, everyone is the same.

In the past, when they faced the struggle and wailing of the prisoners in the test site, they might still be able to laugh and chat, and they could also discuss which number one in the nearby comfort station was more enthusiastic.

At that time, they were outside and others were inside, but now, they have entered inside, and they no longer have the leisure and leisure they used to have when they were outside.

They encountered the most terrifying "ghost hitting the wall". They knew they had to run, but they couldn't get out at all.

Just like the little white mice kept in the container in the laboratory, the fate is actually doomed.

Because of Zhou Ze's special order,

So the following death scene is not as straightforward as it was at the beginning. Before it was the epiphyllum blooming, but now, it makes you go from a flower bud to a budding to the final full bloom and then wither.

Every process must be indispensable, and every link must be indispensable.

From the cultivation of fear, to the depression in the early stage, the details in the middle stage, and the extension of the pain in the later stage, the flower of life, so delicate, has been slowly roasted in countless ways.

Death will not make your death easy, and it will not make your death easy. It will drain every bit of your fear, release your last pain, and even your soul will not be let go.

Do not think that the end of the body is liberation,

The real inability to live or die actually just begins after your physical body ends.

You must know that the soul is more sensitive than the body, and most of the punishments in hell are aimed at the soul.

If the body is compared to a bag, then the soul is the noble head hiding in it,

who is more sensitive,

I understand.

the art of killing,

the whirlpool of death,

Constantly noisy, constantly wandering, and constantly intertwined.

Zhou Ze lowered his head,

When he saw the blood on the ground, it seemed to become alive, like a landscape master swaying ink, constantly changing his appearance.

The gloomy, mysterious, and ghostly symbols are like stars embellishing the night sky, with a kind of banter and sarcasm that doesn't need to be concealed at all.

Puddles of blood continued to spread over, turning into blood-colored lotus flowers at Zhou Ze's feet. On each petal was a painful face, the souls of those white coats who had just died. Their imprisonment, this is their horror feast.

It’s like watching a black and white TV screen when I was a child. There are lines and pieces left blank. The lines are very messy, and the white is not so white.

Zhou Ze bent down,

He covered his chest with his remaining hand,

A little nauseous.

Not sympathy, not pity, just simplicity

some surprise,

My self eighty years ago,

compared to the current self,

It seems to be even more ruthless.

The crippled body is still walking in it,

Slowly, as if admiring his own masterpiece,

at a certain time,

He just appeared in front of a living white coat, and used it as a side dish, throwing it into this passionate symphony and turning it into one of the notes, or freshly squeezed his blood to complement the bloody romantic watercolor.

He did not grin,

Even except when he opened his eyes to look at Zhou Ze at the beginning, he actually kept his eyes closed.

It seems a little careless,

But he is like the most perfect artist, the conductor of the band, he is dedicated to his duties, doing everything to the best of his ability to make the audience...satisfied.

Oh no,

In fact, to satisfy him.

A dream crossing eighty years of time,

are located at opposite ends of the time point,

What is a dream?

And what is the false part of dreams that can change,

Zhou Ze didn't understand, nor did he understand.

but probably,

Eighty years ago, I woke up here, started to kill here, and started to purify myself. This should be true.

As for whether he has seen himself eighty years later, whether because of accepting his commission, he has made this extremely simple killing for him more complicated, tiring, lengthy and enjoyable,

Then I don't know.

If you want to know the truth,

We can only wait for the underground secrets to be unearthed,

leave this dream,

in reality,

To see the traces left over from eighty years ago,

Only in this way can the most correct judgment be obtained.

However,

suddenly,

Everything seems to have been sped up,

Zhou Ze suddenly found that the blood on the ground that had been changing patterns began to boil,

The white coats and gendarmes who were waiting to be put into this feast one by one were thrown into the various laboratories almost all at once. The experiments in the laboratories continued, and the tools and equipment began to operate by themselves. This kind of experiment started again, and even the record books and pens flew up by themselves to make their own records.

It's just that the raw material is no longer the big road they used to say, but has become their own.

But this change in the melody made Zhou Ze a little inexplicably startled. When he looked at the broken figure again, he found that the figure had already appeared in front of him.

He clutched his own half of his head with both hands,

looks very painful,

The body is shaking constantly,

As if he could no longer restrain himself.

Everything around is his handwriting, his art of death, everything is changing according to his state of mind, and when he gradually falls into madness and loses control, everything around him also begins to turn towards cruelty. to extend the aesthetics of violence.

screams,

howling,

there are living people,

with dead souls,

They suffer even more from it.

suddenly,

The broken figure opened his eyes, his eyes were blood red, and for a moment, Zhou Ze was a little dazed.

He was yelling something to himself,

He was telling himself something,

but damn,

Why can't I hear a word!

"I can't hear, what are you talking about!"

Zhou Ze yelled at him. He knew that what the other party said should be very important. It might even be a message left by himself eighty years ago.

pass……

dream form.

But he couldn't hear anything, really couldn't hear anything, plus the other party was on the verge of losing control and was almost roaring, Zhou Ze couldn't analyze what he was talking about even if he could understand lip language.

"boom!"

"boom!"

A series of explosions sounded,

This is the movement of several exits being blown up.

None of the Japanese above dared to go down anymore, and they planned to close the place.

And at this time,

That broken figure seems to be getting more and more crazy,

The blood on the ground kept rising at this time, and slowly covered it. At first, it only reached Zhou Ze's feet, then slowly reached Zhou Ze's knees, and finally, it covered his waist.

Zhou Ze really wanted to stop that figure again, he really wanted to know what he said just now, but Zhou Ze didn't have time to ask or do anything, because his whole body was already covered in blood.

"Gudu..."

Body,

Like falling into the depths of the ocean,

around,

It's a desperate loneliness,

while below,

There was a broken figure,

It seems that they are also looking up and looking up, but the distance between the two is getting farther and farther at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The buoyancy began to increase, Zhou Ze began to rise faster and faster, and the feeling of suffocation and panic became more and more intense.

getting stronger.

"puff…………"

When Zhou Ze surfaced,

He sat up directly from the sofa.

"Hoo Hoo... Hoo Hoo...... Hoo Hoo..."

Zhou Ze was dripping with sweat, his whole body was drenched,

Bai Yingying beside her was still sleeping, but her hair had returned to the black color of a girl, and even her skin became tighter and more elastic, as if water would come out when pinched.

Like a fresh stamen, it has been well moisturized by the morning dew.

Zhou Ze stretched out his hand to cover his forehead,

He still hasn't come to his senses,

It is really the previous picture, too crazy and too frightening, especially the artistic sense reflected in the killing, which makes people feel that they are in the center of the symphony orchestra,

No, it was the very center of the tsunami!

At this time,

Zhou Ze's cell phone rang.

He glanced at the screen,

It was actually Zhang Yanfeng's call.

After answering the phone, he said "Hi" weakly.

Zhang Yanfeng on the other end of the phone seemed very excited, and there was a loud roar of machinery beside him, and he shouted loudly:

"Hey, the superiors have already agreed, we're going to dig, we're going to dig..."

To dig?

Zhou Ze was still a little confused,

Excavate what?

but soon,

Zhou Ze suddenly woke up,

Immediately pointed the phone at his mouth and shouted:

"Can't dig, can't dig now,

Never dig it out! ! ! "

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