The Great Dream God

On the majestic and towering Kyoto city wall, Princess Ziyang stands gracefully, like a peerless fairy flower blooming in the mortal world. Her graceful figure is like a beautiful flower blooming in spring, exuding charming fragrance and charm, which makes people fall in love with her. However, at this moment, her beautiful face is full of deep reluctance and helplessness, just like dark clouds, and the melancholy is like a thread, which makes people feel pity. There is a trace of sadness in her eyes, and her eyes like autumn water have lost their former brilliance at this moment, as if they were shrouded by a layer of haze, appearing dim and dull.

Meng Jin, who was coming with great momentum, was like a wild and ferocious beast, carrying endless anger and arrogance, and came to challenge fiercely. His figure was like a towering moving mountain, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression, as if he could crush everything around him under his feet. His steps were firm and powerful, and every step seemed to trample a bottomless pit in the earth. The heavy footsteps echoed in the air like thunder. His eyes were full of provocation and disdain, and his cold eyes were like the biting cold wind in winter, which made people shudder and seemed to freeze the human soul.

His fierce momentum was as fierce as a violent storm, which made people tremble with fear. His voice was like a loud bell, deafening and resounding through the sky, as if it would shake the world. "Princess Ziyang, do you dare to come out and fight me!" His voice was stirring in the air, with endless arrogance and confidence, as if he had already won the victory and was just waiting for Princess Ziyang to come and die.

Princess Ziyang knew that it was not a wise choice to confront such a powerful enemy head-on. Her heart was full of contradictions and struggles. On the one hand, as a princess, she had her own dignity and honor. She was unwilling to retreat and escape easily, which was a blasphemy to her identity. On the other hand, she also knew clearly that facing such a powerful enemy, a rash attack would only bring more disastrous consequences, which would be a burden she could not bear. So, she chose to avoid it. The movement of turning around, with a bit of determination and helplessness, slowly walked towards the city. The sun was pouring down, and her figure looked particularly lonely under the reflection of this light. Her footsteps were heavy and slow, as if every step carried a thousand pounds of weight, which was the embodiment of her inner pain and helplessness. Her hair fluttered gently in the breeze, but it could not cover up her inner pain and helplessness. The fluttering of her hair seemed to be a symbol of her inner struggle. Her figure gradually walked away, as if the whole world had abandoned her at this moment, leaving only her lonely back, which looked so desolate under the sunlight.

Meng Jin shouted at the city wall wantonly. The sound was like a loud bell, deafening and resounding through the sky, as if to shake the world. "Princess Ziyang, you coward, don't you dare to come out to fight?" His voice was full of ridicule and disdain, and the arrogant tone made people feel angry. His words were like sharp blades, piercing the heart of Princess Ziyang and the nerves of everyone who heard his words. However, the city wall was as silent as death, and no one responded to his arrogant provocation. The silent city wall seemed like a silent tombstone, burying people's courage and hope.

Meng Jin was furious when he found that his shouting was like a stone falling on the sea. He was so swift and powerful that he leaped up like a nimble eagle and easily jumped onto the city wall. His figure drew a graceful arc in the air, and the explosive power at that moment was amazing.

On the city wall, the soldiers stood there in shock, witnessing this thrilling scene. In an instant, panic surged into their hearts like a surging tide, causing them to fall into extreme fear and despair. In their eyes, fear was like an endless abyss of deep darkness, a deep fear of an unknown fate; they were helpless like lambs lost in the wilderness, unable to find any hope or direction. It was as if the horrific scene of the end of the world was slowly unfolding before their eyes. It was a picture full of destruction and despair, which made their souls tremble.

Their faces were as pale as the first snow in winter, without a trace of blood, as if the vitality of life had been drained away in an instant. Their bodies trembled violently and involuntarily, which was an instinctive reaction caused by the extreme fear of death. Every tiny tremor conveyed the fear and helplessness deep in their hearts.

They gathered around hastily, trying to stop Mengjin's progress with their meager strength. However, all these efforts were like hitting a stone with an egg, destined to be a futile struggle. Their behavior was like moths flying into a flame, with a kind of desperate and tragic grandeur.

Meng Jin's eyes were as cold as the frost in the cold winter, without any emotion, a kind of indifference that made people afraid. He drew out the cold and gleaming sword from his waist without hesitation. In an instant, the cold light flashed, like lightning tearing through the dark night sky, dazzling but deadly threatening. The sword shadow was like a violent storm, rushing towards the soldiers with overwhelming force, and the momentum seemed to swallow up the world.

His swordsmanship was extremely sharp, like a ghost, illusory and elusive, hard to grasp and impossible to defend against. Every time he struck out with his sword, it had a strange rhythm, like a dance of death, which made people fall into despair without realizing it. The flickering sword shadow seemed to contain endless power, as if it could ruthlessly cut the air around it, making people feel a heavy and invisible pressure, as if a mountain was pressing down on their heads and making them breathless.

In front of Meng Jin, the soldiers were like frightened rabbits, unable to resist his attack. Their resistance was as weak as a mantis trying to stop a chariot, and they could only watch themselves being mercilessly killed. Meng Jin swung his sword with a fierce momentum and bloody murderous intent, as if he wanted to tear the whole world apart. Every swing of the sword was accompanied by a scream, and the soldiers' bodies were easily cut off, and blood gushed out, splashing on the city wall, forming a series of horrifying pictures.

Meng Jin's figure was like a ghost, shuttling among the crowd. His movements were as fast as lightning, making it difficult to predict. The long sword in his hand flashed with cold light, and every swing would take a life. The soldiers looked at him in horror, their eyes full of fear and despair, but they were powerless. They tried to escape, but Meng Jin was too fast and did not give them a chance.

As time went by, more and more corpses were piled up on the city wall, and blood gathered into streams and flowed on the ground. The air was filled with a strong smell of blood, which made people sick. But Meng Jin seemed to be unconcerned. He was immersed in the pleasure of killing, and continued to swing his sword and harvest the lives of his enemies.

Finally, the last soldier fell under Meng Jin's sword. His body twitched a few times and then stopped moving. Meng Jin stopped what he was doing and stood there quietly. His body was covered in blood and his eyes revealed a kind of indifference and cruelty. He looked around at the corpses on the ground and felt a sense of accomplishment. This is war. Only the strong can survive, and the weak can only become victims.