Morpheus has already sent out a greeting and has received Lucifer's permission. Coupled with his status as the supreme being, he will naturally not queue up.
When he descended from the sky and landed at the gate of Hell, he was not "greeted by Etrigan personally" as promised.
An iron fence rose from the cracked ground, blocking him.
After his identity was recognized, a large group of demons and ghosts gathered around him.
Morpheus was not afraid and just walked slowly towards the closed iron gate.
When he was about to knock on the door, there was suddenly a loud noise outside the demon group, "Quickly give way, an old demon is coming!"
Demon?
It was obviously Harley, and she walked over in an upright and high-profile manner.
This went against the low-key secrecy they had previously agreed upon.
He couldn't help but glance sideways at her.
The pale and pretty face under the cloak of dreams seemed to be smiling, giving him a sly smile.
Morpheus remained calm and banged the "doorbell" vigorously: beside the iron gate, there was a gong with a huge eye pattern.
"Bang bang bang, bang bang bang"
The sound was so loud that it penetrated the clouds and cracked rocks, resounding throughout half of Limbo and most of the first level of hell.
The iron gates and fences are not empty. Human heads are strung on the rusty iron bars. They are all dead ghosts, but they can still open their eyes to see the world and open their mouths to speak.
"Oh, my master, there is a guy knocking on the door, Master Squat!" They shouted in unison, squinting and looking at Morpheus with strange eyes, with a mocking smile on their lips.
"Buzzing buzzing" because of their restlessness, the flies that had bitten on their faces and sucked blood flew around in shock, their necks broke and a few fat maggots fell out.
"There is someone knocking on the door, knocking on the door of perdition"
A chant came from far behind the door, and a strange-looking demon gradually appeared on the horizon.
His whole body was tangled with muscles, but his body looked very deformed. His feet were as big as cattails, his ankles were as thin as hemp poles, and his body was shaped like a water tank. However, he was less than 1.4 meters tall. A double-edged ax replaced the palm of his left arm.
, the head was chopped off, and two eyes as big as eggs grew out of the broken neck.
"Those who are about to sink into hell, are you a killer, a skilled woman, a fraudster, or just a little thief?" It chanted and opened the iron door with its right hand, "It doesn't matter, anyway, there will always be room here until the end of the world.
I’m waiting for you to perish, come on, perish and revel!”
"Squat Tumor, take me to see your master." Morpheus folded his arms and said calmly.
"Oh, ridiculous thing, who are you to dare to make such a request?" the devil sneered.
This was obviously looking for trouble. Even the monsters lining up outside waiting to enter quickly recognized Morpheus's identity. The key was that Morpheus did not conceal his appearance and aura.
The breath of the Most High is too obvious.
"I am the Lord of Dreams, the ruler of the Nightmare Kingdom."
In Morpheus's pool-like eyes, the cross star flashed again.
"Where is your crown?" Squatt's tumor still sneered.
Morpheus pursed his lips, and the dream robe automatically moved without wind, and flames and various twisted faces appeared and disappeared at the hem of the robe.
"My helmet was stolen by a demon. This visit to the King of Hell is just to get it back."
"Oh, ridiculous thing, where is your ruby? Or have you lost all your former glory? Hahaha"
"BOOOOOOM!"
Before Squat's laughter stopped, Morpheus's pale fist fell on it, as abruptly as the transition from a dream.
One moment, Morpheus was still crossing his arms with his chest, looking calm, chatting with the hell guard four or five meters away. The next moment, his fists with clear joints had broken it.
It was as if a missile suddenly exploded at the gate of hell, and a ten-meter-diameter mushroom cloud rose up from smoke, dust and flesh.
The demons behind the door turned pale, swallowed, and retreated.
"I come to this country to be a guest, just like I am a king in my own country! Even Lucifer will not tolerate your insult to your distinguished guest." Morpheus retracted his fist and said coldly.
"Hiss, hiss," wisps of black smoke were like venomous snakes, gathering from all directions and forming a Squat tumor in the explosion crater.
"Oh, ridiculous stuff"
It still wanted to laugh, and a cry came from the distance: "Squat, go back, you are just a fool looking at the gate. The glorious task of welcoming the Lord of Dreams belongs to me, Etrigan. This is the order of the Lord of Hell.
!”
With his fin ears, red skin, and tattered cloak, Etrigan still looks familiar to Harley.
He jumped up, landed in front of Morpheus, and said respectfully: "Dear King of Dreams, I will serve as your guide and lead you through the nine hells to the palace of Satan."
The attack on the Sandman ended here, the gate to hell reopened, the undead and demons slowly walked in, and Etrigan and Morpheus quickly disappeared under the horizon.
Harley paused for a moment at the gate of hell.
This is a door with great "artistic impact". Countless human corpses are intertwined together in a storm-like manner.
They were not wearing clothes and kept the same shape and expression as when they died.
In terms of style, it looks like a wall of zombies that surrounds a wall and breaks through into the city. Time and space solidify at a certain moment, and then move here.
But it has very perfect details and "charm", and almost every corpse tells a vivid story by itself.
Harley can even see with the naked eye, and analyze everyone's crimes and pain based on experience and intuition.
"This door is an ingenious work of art. When I go back, if I play with stone sculptures, I will never be able to surpass Rodin."
With this weird idea, Harley stepped into hell.
"There is someone knocking on the door, knocking on the door of sinking." His left hand was replaced by a double-edged ax with a wooden handle, and he squatted at the door, using the eyes on his neck to scan every evil undead that entered the door, and muttered:
Poetry, "Are you a killer, a skilled woman, or a little thief? Those who step into this door should give up hope. Until the end of the world, there is room here for you to perish."
There are undead souls that answer their own crimes, and there are undead souls that are confused.
All evil magicians ignored it.
At any other time, Harley would have loved to chat with the creature and watch it taunt her with snarky remarks, just like it did to Morpheus.
But today she is a spy and cannot be too ostentatious.
There is a different world behind the gate of hell. The space seems to have become wider, but it feels more depressing. There is a real and real pain lingering on the soul, making the soul feel uncomfortable all the time.
On the dull and vast dry and cracked earth, the souls of those who are timid and do nothing float.
They only made small mistakes but no major evils during their lives, and they wasted their lives and energy in hesitation, doubt and fear.
You may have established countless ideals and plans, but never really tried them.
Not even a big failure.
Their life is as dull as clear water. After death, they went to hell and lived a very "bland" life. There was no torture or torture, and they just wandered in the wilderness in emptiness.
Walking half a mile inside, demons, evil creatures and fallen mages gathered together to form a small market.
There are also some demonic 'civil servants' there who are responsible for leading the undead and the fallen to the river of hell in the distance.
Charon's ship is waiting there.
Some demons are like middle-aged idle men who have no job, no wife and no money in the world. They squat on the roadside, pointing and criticizing the newly arrived undead souls in hell, and from time to time there is a look of greed on their faces like a maniac.
It's a pity that they dare not take action.
Hell has its own rules. Those who had a slight interaction with demons, darkness, corruption, hell and other elements during their lifetimes will either have their souls have an owner after death, or they will be sent to the devil and be selected according to their authority.
Those undead souls who are honest and have never interacted with the supernatural belong to hell itself and will be arranged in the corresponding 'prison' on each level.
"This is a peerless old devil, don't mess with him."
"You dare to kill people casually at the gate of hell, you are so cruel."
"Looking at this aura, it may be related to the big shot in the depths of hell. Let him go."
When Harley passed by them, they attracted a lot of attention, and some of them were even ready to make a move.
If she was sure to be a demon, no one would look at her.
But her aura is mysterious now, a bit like an outsider, a fallen mage, or an evil creature.
Outsiders can be deceived, robbed, and murdered.
However, after hearing that she had spit out thick phlegm and killed the demon noble, all her ill intentions were replaced by fear and caution.
She arrived unimpeded at the mouth of the River Styx in Hell.
It is said to be a river, but more like a sea. The turbid yellow-brown water is like a drunkard's vomit, with a disgusting stench.
The low-hanging black clouds are like Styx's lover, leaning down to kiss the river's face.
The fierce gray wind mixed with the painful howls of countless undead souls set off waves on the river. In the water spray, you can still see the swollen and white corpses, as well as the broken and numb souls.
Harry looked around, seeing thousands of new dead souls pouring into Charon's large wooden ship like crude oil from an oil pipeline.
The hundred-meter-long ship was filled with tens of thousands of undead.
They were packed together like sardines, so densely packed that there was no space left on the deck.
Harley also saw three acquaintances.
Just opposite the rowing boat, there was a tattered yellow leather school bus parked. Three old witches with crooked mouths and squinting eyes were sitting side by side in the driver's seat, sticking their necks out of the window and loudly soliciting customers.
The Great Witch shouted: "Come and take the Hell Bus. It's faster than the ferry and more comfortable."
The second witch then shouted: "Our bus is safer than the ferry and will never fall into the river."
The three witches stretched their necks four to five meters and yelled at the monsters coming over: "It's more noble to take the bus, do you have to squeeze in with the mud-legged people?"
"How much does it cost to cross the river?" asked a rich, fat man in a suit.
Harry looked at him, vaguely familiar, as if he had seen him at some banquet.
A Gotham tycoon?
"It's very cheap, an ancient silver coin." The big witch said.
"Silver coins from Greece, Rome, King Arthur, the Huns, and the Qin Dynasty will all work," the second witch explained.
"Put your hand into your pocket, and your burial objects will be converted into hell silver coins." The three witches said.
The fat man was doubtful. He reached into his trousers pocket and touched it, and said in surprise: "There is really a Greek silver coin."
Then he took out his money several times and his expression changed drastically, "I followed the golden bomb to buy stocks and made tens of billions in just ten years. How come I only have one silver coin?"
The big witch said: "Your son is stingy and can't bear to give up money."
The second witch said: "Your family and friends are stingy and reluctant to give you care and thoughts."
The three witches said: "The wealth in the coffin, plus the living people's thoughts and love for you, is the total wealth after your death."
"Ding ding dong dong" The skinny old man in old work clothes next to him took out a silver waterfall from his torn boxers.