Stepping into the dim and narrow corridor, Joet Brown saw some sundries piled up in a messy manner on the side of the aisle.
A dark oilcloth was spread over the sundries, which Jobtran casually flipped open.
With a quick glance, he recognized the items among the sundries: calligraphy and paintings, weapons, cultural relics, etc. They must be the gifts Arthur mentioned earlier.
These gifts are all finely crafted. Although they are not priceless, they are still quite valuable. However, they are now thrown away like garbage in this dark corridor.
These treasures should be properly stored, as they are all carefully crafted by craftsmen.
Whether it is an oil painting, a collectible, or a weapon, it contains the emotions that the craftsmen have poured their heart and soul into.
Joe Butran shook his head slightly and covered the oilcloth again.
The reason why he shook his head was not because he felt Arthur was extravagant, but because he felt a little sigh for the treatment of these treasures being covered in dust and wasted like this.
Joet Brown continued to move forward. A slight breeze came from the passage ahead, silently taking away the warmth from his body.
The further down you go, the more the temperature drops.
Frost had begun to condense on the walls, and the walkway underfoot was becoming increasingly slippery.
If he didn't have an inhuman balance, he would have slipped and fallen several times.
When a bright light appeared in front of him, it was a transparent white film like the inside of an eggshell.
You can't see the other side of the film from the outside, but you can feel a slight chill coming from inside.
Jobtran held his head high and stepped into the film, feeling a little dazed the moment he stepped in.
When I came to my senses, what I saw was a disturbing scene.
It was a strange red, just like Joet Brown's own eyes, and even the ground was this evil color.
There seemed to be quite a few trees on the red hill, but those trees seemed to be tied with something.
My ears moved and caught the wailing sounds coming from the wind. The painful wailing sounds were clear to my ears.
Just from the sound of the wind, one could detect the groans of men, women, young and old, their desperate roars, and their helpless pleas for mercy.
Joet Brown narrowed his eyes and saw that there seemed to be a small figure moving among the trees.
Seeing this, Joet Brown walked cautiously in that direction.
I saw some little ghosts with green skin like goblins, but uglier than goblins, and even with a hint of fierceness and evil in their looks, carrying things with clear division of labor.
They were wooden stakes cut into cylinders.
The pointed end of the wooden stake points downward, firmly rooted in the soft soil.
Then the other little ghosts carried the twisting sacks and threw them roughly on the ground.
When Joe Butron saw this scene, he immediately frowned.
When he saw the little devil untie the sack, he guessed what was hidden in the sack.
That was an individual.
Regardless of gender, age or status, they were all tied up tightly with ropes by the little devils and then tied to wooden pillars.
A red-skinned kid took out a pair of bloody but rusty pliers and forcibly pried open the mouth of the person tied to the wooden pillar.
With a skillful movement, he clamped it and slowly dragged it, stretching it into a strange length.
The tongue that was broken due to being pulled was thrown away on the spot? It turned into spring mud and merged into the land under the feet.
The purgatory-like scene stimulated Joet Brown's mind. He watched people having their tongues pulled out by the little devils, and then crying helplessly on the wooden pillars. However, as a large amount of blood flowed from their mouths, their cries and pleas for mercy turned into low and dull whimpers.
The light and shadow passed by? In a blink of an eye, I arrived at another area.
This sudden change of scene made Joet Brown feel a sense of weightlessness, but at the same time, he had a guess in his mind.
“This isn’t reality?”
He thought to himself.
The place where they were now was an open space with a row of fences in front of them.
The fences were tied with heavy iron chains, and at the end of the chains were people whose fingers had all been cut off, looking at their hands that could no longer make fists.
Their faces are full of regret, grievance and pain.
Blood continued to flow from the wounds created by the scissors, but they were restrained by chains. They could only look at their own hands and repent for the sins they had committed.
The little devil who carried out this atrocity? Still professionally brought these sinners in sacks? And then cut off the fingers on their hands one by one with scissors.
What makes people feel most uncomfortable is the sound of scissors colliding with bones, the kind of squeaking sound that makes their teeth ache.
The severed fingers lay on the ground like white radishes.
But Jobtran didn't quite understand that he was just a bystander from beginning to end.
Whether it's the sinners or the little ghosts around me, they all seem to be unaware of my existence.
I was like a non-existent transparent person, watching coldly the various tragedies happening in front of me.
The scenes in this place seem to be repeating themselves over and over again, and the sinners do not really die, but endure these pains almost forever.
The screen changes again.
This time, the little devils impaled the sinners on an iron tree with sharp blades, turning them into living kebabs.
The flesh and blood of sinners nourish the iron tree beneath them, and more sharp blades grow on the iron tree, making more room for the next unlucky guy.
There are countless little ghosts busying around under the towering iron tree. The bodies of the sinners are like leaves on the tree, except that this tree is bright red.
Wailing and screaming in pain seem to have become the norm.
A timid person would have been frightened to death in such an environment, and might even vomit out his stomach, but Joet Brown remained calm.
Joet Brown has confirmed his guess and is sure that the world he sees may just be an illusion.
The familiar feeling of weightlessness came again, but this time the strange red color was no longer the main tone.
It was an empty room.
There is no unnecessary decoration in the room, only four simple walls and a three-person-high mirror in the center of the room.
The material of the mirror does not look ordinary. Although it has the luster of obsidian, the mirror surface emits a dazzling glow of its own.
If you stand in front of a mirror, you will see your past and present lives, all the mistakes you have made, and face all the darkness in your heart.
For some reason, Jobtran didn't dare to look at it directly.
He had a strong resistance in his heart, and even his instinctive sense of crisis kept reminding himself not to do this.
But his body was out of control and floated in front of the mirror on its own.
The light on the mirror surface flashed and enveloped Jobtran's body.
He saw the image in the mirror begin to change, and he began to see his past as a child.
He saw himself hiding in the Arkham Asylum, secretly lighting the light and reading the detective novel left by his father.
He saw the title of the book clearly: "Detective Prime Minister".
In the next scene, he saw his adult self, smiling strangely at himself outside the mirror.
The self in the mirror turned into nothingness, escaped into nothingness, and became nothingness.
He saw the pure darkness, the center of the universe, and the gorgeous yet strange palace.
The picture stopped abruptly, and large cracks appeared on the mirror.
The image on the mirror stopped as the mirror shattered, and pieces of the mirror began to fall.
Joet Brown saw that there were still fourteen layers of space behind the mirror, and deep in the last layer of space, there was a book - "The Mud Plow."