The Great Dream God

"What are you yelling about? Can't you see I'm working hard here?" The old man's voice was a little low, but it exploded in this small space like thunder, with an unquestionable majesty. His words seemed to be a command from ancient times, which made people irresistible.

"We came here to ask you for advice." Meng Jin said hurriedly, his tone was a little anxious, and his voice was trembling slightly, like a flame swaying in a storm. "I hope you can give us some advice, we are really desperate." His eyes were full of expectation, and his fiery eyes stared at the old man tightly, as if he had grasped the last straw to save his life.

"What's the matter? Let me finish what I'm doing." After the old man finished speaking, he lowered his head and continued to carve with concentration. The carving knife in his hand flew over the wood, like a dancing elf. Every time he cut, it seemed to carry a mysterious power, and the wood chips fluttered down like snowflakes in winter, flickering faintly in the dim candlelight. The wood gradually took shape in the old man's hands, as if he was performing a silent artistic dance, which made people marvel.

Seeing this, Meng Jin's anger was like dry wood being ignited, and it instantly burned fiercely. His face turned red, and the veins on his forehead bulged like winding earthworms. "Old man, don't refuse my toast!" Meng Jin shouted angrily, his voice like an angry lion roaring, ready to attack. His fists were clenched tightly, and the joints were white because of the force, as if he would strike a fatal blow at any time.

"Meng Jin, don't be impulsive!" Xu Xiaofeng was quick to pull him back. Her voice was crisp and urgent, and her eyes were full of worry. "We are here to seek help, not to cause trouble." Her words were like cool spring water, temporarily extinguishing the anger in Meng Jin's heart.

"Humph!" Meng Jin snorted coldly, his face full of resentment. He fiercely shook off Xu Xiaofeng's hand, turned around and strode towards the coffin. His footsteps were heavy and powerful, and every step seemed to carry endless anger and unwillingness.

Meng Jin mercilessly opened the coffins one after another, his movements rough and hasty. The coffin lids made a dull sound under his hands, as if protesting his brutal behavior. Those zombies who fell into a deep sleep during the day were dragged out of the coffins by him. Their bodies were stiff and their movements were slow, as if they were forgotten by time.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Meng Jin shouted loudly, his voice echoing in the silent space, carrying an inexplicable sense of oppression. His voice was like a sharp sword, cutting through the deathly silence and making the entire coffin shop tremble.

The zombies raised their heads in a daze, staring at Meng Jin with their lifeless eyes, revealing a trace of confusion and puzzlement. Their faces were distorted, and their skin was as pale as paper, as if their souls had long been lost in this endless darkness. Their bodies exuded a rotten smell that made people feel sick.

"Where is my hand? Does anyone know where my hand is?" Meng Jin asked the zombies anxiously, his voice full of anxiety and desire. The fire burning in his eyes seemed to want to burn all the mysteries away in an instant. His body trembled slightly, as if he was in great pain.

However, these zombies just looked at him quietly, like silent stone statues, without any response. Their eyes were empty, as if they didn't understand Meng Jin's words at all.

"Speak up! You useless bunch of rubbish!" Meng Jin roared angrily, and the sound seemed to shatter the entire space. His voice echoed in the coffin shop for a long time, causing people's eardrums to feel a sharp pain.

At this moment, a zombie opened its mouth slightly, as if it wanted to say something. Meng Jin's eyes suddenly lit up, and he could not wait to move forward, his eyes full of anticipation.

"Woo... Woo..." The zombie made an indistinct sound, the sound was low and hoarse, as if it came from a distant hell. The sound seemed particularly strange in this silent space, making people shudder.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Meng Jin yelled in frustration, his angry expression seemed to devour everything in front of him. His eyes were full of despair and anger, as if he had lost his last patience.

At this moment, the old man slowly walked over. His steps were light and steady, as if he was a ghost walking in the darkness. His eyes were as calm as water, without the slightest ripple.

"Okay, don't waste your energy. These zombies have already lost their minds, what can they know?" The old man said calmly, with a calm tone of having experienced many vicissitudes of life. His voice seemed to come from the distant sky, with an otherworldly aura.

"How do you know?" Meng Jin asked doubtfully. His eyes were full of doubt and confusion, as if he didn't believe the old man's words.

"I have been in this coffin shop for many years, and I have seen everything in the world. These zombies have long lost their minds, so how can they understand anything?" The old man said slowly, his eyes revealing a deep wisdom. His words were like an ancient spell, full of mysterious power.

"What should I do with my hand?" Meng Jin said in despair, his voice full of helplessness and despair. His eyes lost their light, as if the whole world had collapsed.

"Perhaps you can explore the depths of the coffin shop. There are some mysterious places there, and perhaps you can find the answers you desire." The old man said, and there seemed to be a glimmer of hope in his words. There was a mysterious light flashing in his eyes, which made people yearn for it.

"Deep inside?" Meng Jin frowned, with a hint of doubt in his eyes. His heart was filled with anxiety and fear, not knowing what was waiting for him ahead.

"That's right, but it's extremely dangerous, you must think carefully and be mentally prepared." The old man said solemnly. His voice was low and serious, as if he was warning everyone of the danger ahead.

"No matter how dangerous the road ahead is, I will go!" Meng Jin said firmly, his eyes flashing with determination. His voice was sonorous and powerful, as if he was swearing his determination.

"Well, I wish you good luck." After the old man finished speaking, he returned to his workbench and continued to carefully carve the wood carving in his hand. His focused expression seemed as if everything in the world had nothing to do with him, and only the wood carving in his hand was eternal in his heart. His fingers danced flexibly, and the carving knife scratched on the wood, making a slight sound. The wood carving gradually became lifelike in his hands, as if it had life.