Chapter 11 (1/2)

Fire.

Blood.

Smoke.

The body.

A downpour of rain.

Hysterical lightning.

Piercing cold, suffocating fever, severe headache, fainting again and again, convulsion.

Who is holding himself?

The familiar face?

Lightning flashed across the sky, bringing sudden light.

Little face blue with cold, young gorkin's face.

He hugged himself tightly, shivering all over, whispering something in a frightened, frightened voice.

In the dream, thunder and lightning flashed, and a choking black shadow shrouded him. From the depths of his soul and from every corner of his body, Joe's throat ”clucked” and his body convulsed violently.

Then Joe woke up from a confused, fragmented dream.

In a cold sweat, Joe opened his eyes blankly and looked around.

It was a huge room, one Joe knew so well.

A comfortable four poster bed was in the corner of the room, and Joe was lying in a thick bed of brocade, silk, and velvet, which made up the main body of the bed. He lay on the bed as if he were lying in the clouds, and his whole body was light.

Spacious room, messy, full of all kinds of young people like fun.

Ivory handled flint rifles, antique swords and sabers, dozens of rifles and nearly a hundred swords were piled up on benches made of ebony.

What makes people suffocate is that in the middle of these swords and cherts, there is an 800 millimetre caliber ”Thor” cannon shell without charge!

More than a dozen sets of armor, which can be called works of art, lie askew on the ground. Some of them are decorated with the feathers of precious birds such as paradise bird, paradise bird, sun bird and rainbow bird.

Dozens of gorgeous dresses were scattered all over the floor. These dresses were all made of high-grade silk and brocade, and the buttons were inlaid with gold, silver, pearls and precious stones.

In the middle of the house is a gorgeous open screen white peacock specimen. In the other corner of the room, there is a billiard table, echoing the diagonal sofas and two rows of wine cabinets.

On the four walls of the room, there are dozens of large animal head specimens.

The heads of these beasts opened their mouths, and their sharp fangs were covered with thick gold.

Joe opened his eyes, staring at the messy, but comfortable and safe room. Yeah, this is his bedroom. He's in a coma. He's home.

Shaking his head hard, Joe recalled the scene of his dream. Then there was a dizziness.

It's still fire, it's still blood, it's smoke and bodies.

Joe shook his head hard. He had never had the dream before. And this dream, unexpectedly and last night's cruel scene, chaotic fusion into one.

In the dream, how could there be gorkin?

And it's gorkin in his childhood. Where is he crouching in his arms?

Countless thoughts were quickly dispelled by a strong nausea, and Joe suddenly woke up, he killed. He killed people last night. What's more, the method of killing people is so cruel and terrible, just like the devil in the legend.

I don't want to mention the black figure who escaped.

Joe saw and remembered clearly that the butcher was smashed by his own blow.

The blow beyond the limit, that covered the whole alley of flesh and blood. And then there are the policemen who have been brutally killed, his colleagues!

The Adam's apple twitched violently up and down. Joe jumped up and down. He broke open the small table beside the bed. Several ivory and crystal water pipes on the table suddenly fell to the ground.

He kicked off a fine gold opera mask, stepped on a silver sugar jar, nearly fell, swayed through a few yards of ivory on the display shelf, and headed into the bathroom.

He pulled the lid off the toilet, nearly stuffed his head into the toilet, and Joe vomited violently.

His bowels were tumbling, his gall was vomiting, Joe was vomiting violently, the bathroom was smelling, and his earthshaking vomit was coming out of the open door.

A few girls in black and white, fine linen material maid skirt into the room, light hands and feet busy.

In the room where there were only two candles, the thick velvet curtain was pulled open, and the lazy sunshine came into the room through the French windows in the afternoon. The disordered room was bright.

A tall, thin, long black hair with a high bun, wearing a simple black long skirt, temperament is quite elegant middle-aged woman followed the maid came in.

The middle-aged woman is quite beautiful and well maintained. There is no wrinkle on her white face. In the sun, her face and long palms are shining like pearls.

Standing next to the hapless white peacock, she asked anxiously, ”Joe? Are you ok? Oh, the merciful muteste... ”Joe raised his head, slammed the lid on the toilet and pressed the flush button.