But good, the world is still here.

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Russell didn’t move in the same place, but the golden lightsaber in his hand suddenly extended-as he swung the sword and tilted across the world together with the decaying spirit of the old man.
A golden crack. His dark green spirit is emerging and shining like the sun.
"I was … a sinner."
The skinny old man muttered and knelt down slowly, but just before he knelt down, light suddenly burst into his spirit-his body suddenly broke in the cage of heaven and earth.
Several memento mori are scattered around and embedded in the whole world. Every cage is his memento mori from youth to youth, from youth to middle age, from middle age to old age
"I hope my knife is sharp enough, and you will be promoted if you die. I hope we can defeat your deceiver …"
Luo Su said lightly that he felt that the beheading of this saint in his hand was heavier than that of others.
That’s not "life weight" or "life weight"-it’s "future weight"
It is a key to the future of this planet.
The teenager reaches out to the distant sky, gently touches the blood moon, and the eternity resounds through the tide, pointing to the fragments of life that are as bright as stars, whispering, "I once almost became you, but now I refuse that kind of future-the mask can be a mask, but I will be mortal and the shell is not me."
"Rest in peace, Andrew. Let me see your heart … and come to me."
Chapter 51 Russell is determined to
Those bright or dim past hung like stars, and the blood moon shone with all kinds of brilliance.
It’s like looking at the dim world of street lamps with tears in your eyes.
Russell has seen many memento mori, which is the farthest and most broken.
Maybe it’s because he’s dead, maybe "Andrew" is already dead-or maybe it’s because he embeds too many memories that don’t belong to him into his mind, so that the past that really belongs to him has been infiltrated into fragmentation and fragility.
And as Russell open his hand to that "stars" in the night, the light from the past reflect in the mirror-
In the narrow and messy room, lights are on everywhere, and the gas emits the irritating smell of rubber and plastic oil.
A man is wearing a closed helmet with a silicone stick in his mouth. He is alone in the room.
Strong rubber ring fixes his own hands and feet. Simple instrument seat armrest is tied with a button and adhesive tape to fix it in his palm.
As he slowly pressed the button with some determination, all kinds of instruments in the room became sharper, and the turbine sounded, he closed his eyes and then his body suddenly twitched violently-
He suddenly clenched the rubber stopper in his mouth and exposed his neck, and instantly became latosolic red, and it was only a few seconds before he could not help but press the button in his hand.
As the helmet rises, the man coughs violently and continuously and spits out the silicone stick with saliva in his hand. His whole face turns red and his eyeballs pop out due to pressure, and then he has severe asthma. His violent shaking hands give himself a shot in the muscle before he gradually calms down.
It was a middle-aged man with brown hair and blue eyes, and his hair was a little greasy and messy. After he calmed down, he coughed violently for a few times before reaching out and shaking his hands and picking up his gold-rimmed glasses.
He just wore glasses, and then he coughed more and more fiercely. He couldn’t straighten up and coughed off the ground just wearing glasses.
Then he suddenly stretched out his hand over his mouth and stumbled to the corner sink to vomit, but he couldn’t spit out anything. He ran past with thin gastric juice and porridge at noon and stepped on one of his glasses.
"… damn shit! Shit! "
The man stretched out his hand to hold the sink mirror and cursed in a low voice, "I screwed up again …"
He looked at himself in the mirror and saw tears in his eyes. The world was so blurred, not because of coughing or vomiting, but because of this constant failure.
"Saint, if you look at me, please let me succeed …"
He murmured in a low voice as if he were sobbing. "Even if I had to succeed once …
"I’m really going to insist on not going …"
Suddenly he suddenly looked back at Russell. "What’s that sound?
"-who are you?"
Russell didn’t say a word, but his face was stunned, or he looked forward to crying and laughing. "Can you talk again? I think I heard it! I seem to-I have never heard such a sound-this is not my memory!
"I seem to have succeeded! I may have succeeded! I succeeded! "
Short-term memory fragmentation
The faint yellow sunset reappeared before Russell’s eyes.
"Your Holiness …"
"He" seems to have a skewed perspective, so he pushed his glasses a little uncomfortable, but the glasses legs were bent, so he couldn’t push them straight.
He looked very nervous in front of the old man with white hair and beard. His hand pinched his corner from time to time and his back bent a little unconsciously. He felt that his back and his ass were itchy, perhaps because he had not exercised for a long time, and the sweat and heat were sealed by his pores. He wanted to scratch, but he was afraid to show such disrespect in front of the old man, which made him feel even worse.
But these afflictions can’t add up to his anxiety.
He looked at the old man leafing through those documents-those he had worked hard and those taboo studies-and felt his heart beating deafening.
The old man was silent. He looked at it for a long time without saying a word.
Then he slowly sighed as if holding his heart.
"Andrew!"
The old man’s voice is slow, generous and kind, which gives people a strong sense of peace of mind
"Do you know what taboos you are touching?"
"… I am the Pope’s adult"
From the bottom of my heart, I blurted out from the middle-aged population, "But I think even a sinful life is better than a clean death."
"… oh, you think so."

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