His eyes were deep, reflecting the literary purgatory before him that he had created with his own hands.
"... He felt like the boatman on the Volga River in the oil painting. His fingers that were about to break were the boatman's slender but powerful body, and his torn sack-like body was the heavy, stagnant, dark cloud-like boat."
"... one, two, four, eight, sixteen... Soon, he began to hear hallucinations and his body began to break apart. The edges of his pupils exploded and blood began to flow from all his orifices."
"…He stood on his own 'flesh mountain'. Hundreds of his constantly regenerated arms, thighs, and calves piled up into a mountain. Some of the white bones were buried under the flesh, while others were stuck on top of it. It was like a thorny grave covered with white roses."
——Su Mingan opened his arms.
He calmly embraced the vast, scorching, hot, twitching, and painful words that he had experienced before.
Accept, tolerate, and acknowledge.
He was no bystander.
He is the silent punctuation and the strongest rest.
He is the unshakable core and anchor of this all-encompassing storm of words.
He is the indestructible protagonist who endures it all with equanimity.
His silence is the suffocating calm in the eye of the storm, the coldness and purity of the "book" itself.
The scenes brought by the drama lens developed rapidly, and the scenery around them kept changing. The northern ice field, the apprentice game, the black water dream, the land of the dead... until the end.
"clatter."
"clatter."
Two footsteps, one in front and one behind.
One black and one white, two figures.
Su Ming'an, peace with the gods.
They walked the same path again, trekking through mountains and rivers, and returned to the World Tree at the center of the battle, covered in scars.
Back to the very end.
Returning to the world tree where Noel, Danshuang, Siber, Li Mingyue and others were, and where there were star destroyers and Arks.
The collision of words is like an emotional resonance. Su Ming'an is very clever. He does not attack the body of the god Ming'an at all, but seizes his mental state. Because he knows where his weaknesses are and what kind of emotional resonance can hurt him the most.
After experiencing so many resonances of words and the past, Shenming An looked extremely tired and could no longer conceal his pain.
Silently hiding among the torrent of words, Su Ming'an's right hand silently condensed a sword of words and walked quietly towards Shen Ming'an.
"……cough!"
Suddenly, Su Mingan spat out a mouthful of blood.
He touched his face and realized that the mask had fallen off at some point. What his fingers touched was a slippery liquid in seven colors.
ah.
His face was gone.
…
[Tree transformation progress: 80%]
…
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