Chapter 351

As night fell, the dusk began to sink, and the cloudless sky turned to a deep, bruised purple.

Hoffa and nightmare followed the soldiers to their barracks. Compared with the group of dreamers outside, the soldiers in this area seem very quiet.

There was a silent bonfire in the rolling tent. There were groups of soldiers, some baking, some cooking, and some feeding horses.

They can be roughly divided into three types: plain clothes policemen in police uniforms, soldiers with guns on their backs as seen before, and Holy Roman soldiers with cross and double headed eagles on their shields, which seems to be older.

Through the soldiers in the barracks, Hoffa can roughly judge the age of Silby's existence. The Holy Roman Empire should have been his youth. The soldiers who fired guns were his old age. The modern law enforcers wore police uniforms.

What on earth did Silby want to do when he put these people here to keep the dream stable?

Because these soldiers did not communicate with each other, Hoffa could not get any information, and he did not dare to speak rashly.

Because he was afraid of revealing his true feelings, he followed the group of soldiers to make up for their mistakes. He ate when the soldiers ate, practiced when the soldiers practiced, and slept when the soldiers slept. Of course, he didn't really sleep.

After all the soldiers in one of his tents fell asleep, Hoffa got out of bed and made a sign outside the tent.

Then, in the light of the fire, he could see his horse's body shrink and lengthen. Finally, he became a slim S-shaped figure, a god of nightmares. He changed from a horse to a man again and came in with the curtain open.

Hoffa didn't understand why it turned into a beauty every day. It was clear that it could become any kind of beauty.

"Can't you change it?" He asked with a smile.

The God of nightmare didn't speak. Her face was cold, and her pace gradually accelerated. Then she jumped on Hoffa, pressed him on the bed, and grabbed his neck mercilessly. She said with a ferocious look: "next time before you make an idea, you'd better discuss with me, I can cooperate with you, but you'd better not be blasphemous."

"Er..."

Hoffa was choked and couldn't breathe. In the dream world, his physical strength was not as strong as that in the real world. In most cases, he was almost like a normal adult.

Suffocated, he dare not make a sound, can only keep breaking the arm of the God of nightmares.

The nightmare God who ate excrement must have been repressed for a long time. It didn't dare to attack before, but it didn't mean it didn't care.

A second before Hoffa was about to lose consciousness, his neck was loosened, and he suddenly sat on the bed, feeling his neck and gasping.

"Want to... Want to beat... People like sylby... You don't... Don't pay a price."

"Well, what do you want to do at the cost of eating shit?" The God of nightmare sneered and asked: "if you don't go back, I'm afraid that person outside will really die."

"Cough... Cough..." Hoffa shivered and whispered, "I'm going to enter the group subconscious dream. Do you... Do you have a way?"

The God of nightmare was surprised by his thought: "go one more level? It's a double-layer dream. You know what that means? All the unstable factors will multiply. "

"Is that important?" Hoffa is breathing again.

"It's important. It's about your life and death. Are you really going in? "

"Of course, these soldiers are the incarnations of sylby Spencer's rule making. They are equivalent to sylby to some extent. Only when I enter their dreams can I know what sylby really wants to do."

The God of nightmares, however, seemed hesitant.

A soldier in the barracks turned over and snored, and they closed their mouths tacitly.

After a moment's silence, Hoffa said, "why, can't you do it?"

"It's not impossible. It's a double-layer dream."

The God of nightmares warned, "it's not strange what happens there. Moreover, it's hard to get out of this layer of dreams. The guy outside is dying. If you can't find a way to get out before he dies, there will be another vegetative person in the world."

"Can you do something better?"

Hoffa asked.

"It's too risky." Nightmare shook his head: "my suggestion is to find a way to get out of here and physically destroy sylby's body."

Hoffa sighed: "I don't want to fight enemies I don't know anymore.

To be honest, since I met him in the second grade, I have never known what he really thought. I have no idea what he wanted to do when he exploded Hogwarts, what he lived for so many years, what he wanted to do when he untied the curse, and what his goal in life is. "

"You already have the power of time, and you need to know what he is doing. As long as you find him, he will not be your opponent in reality." The God of nightmares suggested.

Hoffa laughed with self mockery: "with respect, he used time as a weapon 50 years earlier than me, maybe 300000 years. I don't believe he has no backhand waiting for me."The God of nightmares pondered for a long time, and finally compromised: "well, I'll help you enter the second level of dreams, but I won't go in myself."

Yes, the expected answer, Hoffa thought. It's divine. In case he died, the God of nightmares could find a way to find a home.

However, after six thousand cycles of life and death, he has seen and understood a lot.

Gods only represent rules. They don't have too many emotions. The world needs nightmares, so there is the God of nightmares. The world needs death, so there is the God of death. There is night in the world. All of them can't dominate the world. The God of nightmares won't kill himself because of the anger of eating excrement, and he can't do anything with the help of time. The God of nightmares doesn't want to bet all on himself. In other words, he will do the same. The divine blood in his body tells him that the world is above everything.

"Come on."

Hoffa closed his eyes.

Nightmare held his forehead with one hand and the soldier's forehead with the other.

It's like someone pushed it into the water and started to fall with a plop.

This time, the diving time was longer. There was no light in front of him. The sound of water was all in his ears. The pressure from all directions made him gasp. Gradually, something appeared in the dark pool. He closed his eyes and let it drag him upstream.

...

wow, accompanied by the ease of water.

...

he can breathe.

When you open your eyes, the dream changes again.

He was wearing a heavy fur coat, standing in a scorched snow, cold around.

The snow, like goose feather, came down from the dark sky and landed on his shoulder and nose.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

The sound of neat steps came from overhead.

He looked up and saw that he was standing under a wall. The wall was covered with stairs made of thick wood beams, which were firmly nailed to the stone wall. The long stairs were winding, like a lightning, winding up the wall.

Lines of soldiers ran up the stairs in good order, holding all kinds of standard weapons, axes or bows and arrows. Probably preparing for a fight or a drill. Each of them carries a shield with a double headed eagle and a cross on his back.

It's not much different from the barracks just now, but the atmosphere is more tense.

"Is the kerosene ready?"

"In a minute!"

"Is rolling stone enough?"

"Not enough."

"If it's not enough, let the craftsmen pick it quickly. In addition, let the 30000 arrows come up! Those damned guys could come at any time! "

The noise of orders and orders echoed in Hoffa's ear. He could not help standing under the wall and saying to himself, "what the hell is this place?"

As he walked towards the wall, his boots broke through the ice of the cold night, the snow crunched under his feet, and his breath frosted before his eyes like a flag. He walked faster with his arms around his chest.

"Hello! You

A soldier saw him and yelled, "what for?"

Hula La, several soldiers who found him threw away the arrow bundles in their hands, stepped forward, quickened their pace, passed through the city wall and surrounded him. Some even drew out a sharp blade and pointed to his neck:

"who are you, so familiar, are you the spies sent by those witches?"

A wizard Scout?

Hoffa's eyes widened slightly. Are these Muggle soldiers fighting with witches? Why doesn't he remember such a movie in history.

At this time, a priest in a red robe stepped down from the ladder of the city wall: "what's the matter? What's the matter?" He asked aloud, "what's going on, making noise here?"

"Father max, a stranger has broken in. We suspect that he is a spy sent by Pandora." The soldier replied.

"Spy?"

The red priest immediately put his nose in front of Hoffa, face to face and asked, "are you a spy?"

"No

"Then tell me when Christ's birthday is." Said the priest.

"Ah? What? " Hoffa was caught off guard by the problem.

"I don't know!"

The priest's nostrils suddenly enlarged and said, "you are indeed a heretic."

he immediately took out a Bible with a black cover from his waist, opened it and read aloud: "those who walk in the dark, the servants of the devil and the evil spirit, will be purified by the light of the world. Now, yield to the spirit of truth, heretic -" the priest fiercely closed the book and said: "Do it!"

The soldiers raised their sharp blades one after another.

"Wait a minute!"

Hoffa raised his hand to stop the inexplicable soldiers.

"What do you want to say?"

The red priest asked coldly."I'm the intelligence agent from the rear. I'm in charge of handing over intelligence. How dare you do this to me!" Hoffman called out: "fortunately, I have run hundreds of kilometers to save you. Is that the end! Where is your person in charge? I want to see him! "

"Intelligence agent?"

The soldiers looked at each other.

The priest looked at him suspiciously: "do you have evidence?"

Hoffa closed his eyes, took off his gloves and groped for a moment in his chest. When he opened his eyes, he took out a letter sealed with red clay from his pocket and handed it forward: "no, take it for yourself!"

The red priest snatched the letter and read it along the handwriting.

Hoffa held his breath. He didn't know what would be on the letter. Everything was his own imagination. Anyway, it was a dream. All his wishes could be realized within his cognitive scope.

After reading the letter, the red priest's face became uncertain. He closed the letter and hesitated. The soldier held his breath and waited for the priest's order.

"It's OK to believe, but why don't you even know Christ's birthday?" The priest is still worried.

Hoffa's face did not change, "because I remember his death day, from that day on, the world changed."

The priest's face looked a little better. He was a little reluctant to hum, "you're lucky. I'll take you to see the Pope to see if you can show your feet."

The soldiers released Hoffa with a look of chagrin.

The priest took Hoffa to the city wall and came to the high place. He found that there was a huge difference between this place and the previous dream.

The last layer of dream is some beautiful dream bubble, full of funny and unreal, but this layer of dream things, should be real happened.

Outside the city wall, the trenches were dug one after another. Although the Spurs were facing out neatly, they were ferocious and sharp. There were all kinds of corpses on the thorns, which were burnt to coke in the flames. Some of the injured horses who lost their owners limped in the fire, some dragged their intestines and fell to the ground before they went far.

And in the distance, in the dancing snow, you can see the camp of the opponent, they are bright in the dark, big and quiet.

War.

The war between the wizard and the Muggle.

Hoffa wanted to know what was going on here, but he didn't dare to ask, for fear of revealing himself.

He followed the red priest in silence. He didn't know how long he had been gone.

The priest took him to a church in the middle of the city.

The church has been transformed into a medical center. Countless white robed clergy are running here. They press the wounded on the hospital bed. Some of the wounded legs are burnt and only dark bones are left. The clergy is sawing his legs with a saw, and the air is filled with frightening wails.

It's the opposite of the first dream. Hoffa begins to wonder, what kind of medicine is sold in the gourd, and why he wants to build a dream on the nightmare.

He can't understand.

The priest took him through the screaming hall, through the deep corridor, to a bedroom in the depth of the church, and opened the door.

"Go in and deliver the mission with your holiness."

Said the red priest.

Pope!?

Hoffa looked over the red priest's shoulder into the bedroom.

No, it's OK. It scared him.

There was a four legged bed in the bedroom, on which lay a sick old man, whom Hoffa knew very well. He has snow-white breath and hair, crooked nose.

It's Albus Dumbledore.