The colors of the entire world were taken by the Dream, the dazzling wings seemed boundless, this was the essence of the Dream.
Standing alone on the top floor of the skyscraper, Han Fei looked at the Dream that was within arm's reach, a scene full of impact.
The hatred called Butterfly, an exceptionally beautiful person; the ghost called Dream, its essence resembled a butterfly.
The wings, painted with the lines of countless human faces, gently fluttered, and Dream Dust, like a rain sweeping across the world, engulfed all beings and hope.
Han Fei, whose body was aging, staggered backward, leaning against the shrine, he was so small, in front of the Dream, like a speck of dust, insignificant.
Without using Unspeakable abilities, the intense oppression brought by the Dream made all Unspeakable forces pause on their own, as if it was about to crush even the sky of the Deep World.
"How can there be such a terrifying ghost?"
