The Great Dream God

Meng Jin's face has become a mysterious and shocking painting at this moment. The vision suddenly appeared, as if breaking the boundaries of reality. Seventeen eyes have grown on his face inconceivably, like stars multiplying in the dark universe, and like ancient totems, branded on his skin with profound meanings. These eyes are of varying sizes and shapes, like the twinkling stars in the night sky, each with its own characteristics. Some are as full as copper bells, reflecting the boundless sky; some are as slender as willow leaves, gently swaying in the wind, revealing a trace of sorrow and doubt.

They danced on Meng Jin's face, as if they were independent beings, each flashing a different light, confusion, fear, and bewilderment intertwined to form an indescribable symphony of emotions. Each eye was like the starting point of a story, hiding endless secrets and unsolved mysteries, silently telling of Meng Jin's inner turmoil and the outside world's shock and confusion at this strange change.

Meng Jin's face became strange and terrifying at this moment, like a picture distorted by a nightmare. His eyes were filled with endless fear, and his pale face was even paler than the frost and snow under the moonlight, without any blood. His eyes were wide open, as if they were tightly grasped by sudden fear, and what was reflected in them was no longer the familiar self, but an incomprehensible vision.

His hands fluttered frantically on his cheeks like frightened butterflies, trying to erase the suffocating scene. His fingers groped convulsively, and each touch seemed to be playing a symphony of despair, accompanied by his low moans, which trembled in the air like a heartbeat torn by thorns. Those "eyes" seemed to be rooted in his skin, and every time he struggled and flapped, the thorns penetrated deeper, bringing sharp pain, as if mocking his futility.

His movements were frantic and weak, as if he was fighting an invisible enemy. He tried to rub away these visual organs that did not belong to him, but they were stubbornly imprinted on his face, mocking his fear and confusion, like a cold laugh, echoing in this space shrouded in fear.

The air seemed to freeze, and every heartbeat was trembling with tension and panic. Meng Jin's eyes, which originally belonged to him, were now wide open, filled with fear and despair. He looked at his hands, at the seventeen eyes that did not belong to him, and his heart was filled with unspeakable confusion and fear.

Meng Jin collapsed powerlessly on a barren, cold, hard ground. His body trembled like a leaf in the autumn wind, and every bone seemed to be frozen into the marrow by the boundless fear. His breathing was rapid and weak, and every breath he took seemed to be fighting for the spark of life with the god of death. He raised his heavy head with difficulty, and his eyes, which were once as sharp as an eagle, were now full of confusion and fear, but also revealed a tenacious light.

Seventeen eyes, like stars at dawn, twinkled in the dark sky, reflecting his challenge to the unknown. They stared straight at the chaotic white fog in front of him. The fog was thick and mysterious, like an invisible barrier that separated him from the outside world. In this thick fog, unpredictable terror lurked, like a beast waiting for an opportunity, quietly waiting for the best moment to attack. Every slight movement could trigger the hidden crisis, making people feel nervous and unable to breathe.

Suddenly, the pure white sea of ​​fog began to stir, as if it was maliciously stirred by an invisible giant dark hand, causing ripples. In the depths of this chaotic fog, several strange triangular tentacle monsters slowly appeared. They were like nightmares crawling out of the edge of the deep universe. Their bodies were translucent and blurry, but their existence could not be ignored. The bodies of these tentacle monsters were gleaming in the fog, and their triangular tentacles were as flexible as snakes and scorpions, twisting and dancing. Every movement had a gloomy rhythm, like a demonic symphony.

They quietly floated in the air, without wings or claws, relying on an unknown force, like messengers from hell, rushing towards Mengjin without hesitation. Their arrival seemed to carry the whisper of death and a hurricane of panic. The air instantly became heavy as lead, and time seemed to be frozen, leaving only the piercing silence and the cold gaze of the tentacle monsters.

Meng Jin, his eyes were as firm as iron, and he faced this horrific scene without flinching. His eyes collided with the cold gaze of the tentacle monster in the air, forming a silent war, the persistence of life against the threat of death.

Meng Jin drew the legendary sword from his carefully crafted scabbard at a leisurely pace. The sword shone brightly under the bright moonlight, like ice crystals in a winter night, emitting a frightening cold light, as if the prelude to a battle was quietly played in the silent night. His sword was not an ordinary weapon, but the embodiment of his faith and determination, and every inch of its edge condensed his courage and tenacity.

Facing the terrifying creature from the abyss, Meng Jin's eyes were as firm as a rock, fearless and calm. The monster was like a phantom leaping out of a nightmare, its dark body was like a black hole swallowing up light, and its countless tentacles twisted wildly, like a poisonous snake in the jungle.

Meng Jin took a deep breath of the frosty air, as if he had taken the courage and determination of the world into his chest. His muscles were tense, and every inch of his skin and every fiber contained endless power. These powers gathered at the tip of his sword like rivers and seas, forming an irresistible shock wave. In an instant, he descended like the god of thunder, rushing forward without hesitation, waving the long sword in his hand like a storm, pointing directly at the core of the monster.

In the darkness, a blinding white light suddenly burst out, like the light of dawn tearing through the night, illuminating this world full of fear. Accompanied by the deafening sound of metal collision, the sword blade accurately cut through the monster's body, and the sound echoed in the empty space, causing ripples. The triangular tentacle monster instantly fell apart under this blow, and the broken tentacles twisted wildly in the air, like a group of venomous snakes that had lost their master, struggling desperately and making their last roar.

Meng Yu was like a cheetah in the jungle, showing unparalleled agility and strength. His eyes were sharp and perceptive, and he instantly captured every detail of the battle. With a low roar, he suddenly leaped forward, his body drawing a graceful arc in the air, his movements smooth and powerful, as if it was a perfect dance given by nature. The moment he landed, his feet were firmly embedded in the soil, as stable as an ancient rock, and not shaken by any turbulence.

The monster's wound was like a broken water pipe, blood gushed out, forming a terrifying blood-red waterfall, instantly dyeing the originally hard ground red. However, Meng Yu had already foreseen this scene, and his figure shuttled through the blood rain like a ghost, and each dodge was extremely accurate, avoiding the bloody red death liquid and not letting it stain his battle robe.

With his agility, Meng Yu skillfully leaped forward, his movements were as agile as a cheetah, and he landed as steady as a rock. Blood gushed out of the monster's wound like a fountain, spilling all over the ground, but Meng Yu had already predicted all this, and he dodged flexibly to avoid being stained by the bloody liquid.