The two walked to the door.
A low, depressed voice came from behind.
"Take me outside! In exchange, I'll take you to the door!"
Linghu Lan and Bai Yu stopped and looked at each other.
Bai Yu paused for a moment, then said, "Okay!"
The car carried the three people forward.
Chu Xing slumped in the back seat, feeling utterly lifeless.
So much happened that day, it was hard to process.
Linghu Lan and Bai Yu remained silent, both too tired.
Although there were no gunshots in this battle, hundreds of millions of brain cells were killed, leaving people mentally and emotionally exhausted.
Linghu Lan felt drowsy, and then ate a lot of food in the carriage like a hungry wolf to replenish her strength, before she felt a little better.
In the distance, the sign of the Disciple's Bar gradually came into view.
The two men's eyes lit up, and they quickly parked the car and headed towards the bar.
The bar door was open, but because it was daytime, it wasn't very lively, with only a few people coming and going.
There were no lights inside; it was completely dark.
During the day, this bar hides all its glitz and glamour; who would guess that inside it lies an escape route?
The bartender at the counter glanced up at the three of them, then lowered his head again and absentmindedly dozed off.
Chu Xing led Bai Yu and Linghu Lan unimpeded to a secluded room.
The room was cramped with only a small door. Inside the door was a portrait of a woman holding a child, radiating a holy maternal glow. At her feet was a gate to hell, through which a child with a sinister smile was imprisoned.
Chu Xing clenched his fists, bowed his head and softly recited a few lines of scripture in front of the portrait. His voice was so soft that Linghu Lan could not hear him clearly.
Bai Yu frowned, something was about to burst forth from his mind, but it was abruptly blocked, and only one word came out.
"Hell worship!"
Chu Xing glanced back at him and whispered, "Living is hell, death is justice."
Linghu Lan felt a tightness in her chest, her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn't accept this belief.
This is a very strong misanthropic view, and it is not worth advocating.
Life is a wondrous gift; only by striving to participate fully in the entirety of life can death appear solemn.
If life is taken lightly, how can death be considered precious?
Chu Xing reached out and gently pressed his hand on the image of the Gates of Hell.
The Gates of Hell stirred, shooting out a fierce, dark light that enveloped the three of them.
A wave of nausea washed over her chest, and before Linghu Lan appeared a gate to hell, with hellfire raging. She felt as if her entire soul was being burned by the flames, and the intense dizziness made her almost lose all consciousness.
Everything finally stopped before he completely passed out.
Linghu Lan opened her eyes.
A pristine white ceiling.
The sheets were spotless white.
The walls are white.
Her eyelids were extremely heavy, and her mind was foggy. She opened her eyes briefly before wearily closing them again.
She felt a little more relaxed. The feeling of waking up this time was completely different from the previous times. Did this mean that she had really returned to the real world?
She opened her eyes again, shook her head, and felt the tubes on her body swaying back and forth.
A joyful voice came from the direction of the door, followed by the sound of something falling to the ground and extremely suppressed sobs.
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