Night fell, and the twilight gradually darkened. The cloudless sky turned into a bruise-like dark purple, then disappeared into the darkness.
Hoffa and the God of Nightmares followed the soldiers to their camp. Compared to the group of dreamers outside, the soldiers' camp was very quiet.
Bonfires were lit in the undulating tents. Groups of soldiers were in groups of twos and threes. Some were warming themselves by the fire, some were cooking, and some were feeding the horses.
They were roughly divided into three types. The first type were plain-clothed police officers, the second type were the flintlock wielding soldiers, and the last type were the Holy Empire soldiers. The shields on their backs were adorned with crosses and double-headed eagles. From the looks of it, they were from an even more ancient era.
Through the soldiers in the camp, Hoffa could roughly determine the era in which Silby lived. The Holy Empire should be from when he was young, the soldiers with flintlocks were from when he was old, and the ones in uniform were modern law enforcers.
What was Silby trying to do by arranging these people here to maintain the stability of the sweet dream?
Because these soldiers didn't communicate with each other, Hoffa couldn't get any information out of them. He also didn't dare to speak rashly.
Because he was afraid of being exposed, he followed behind the group of soldiers to make up the numbers. He ate when the soldiers were eating, trained when they were training, and slept when they were sleeping. Of course, he didn't really sleep.
After all the soldiers in one of his tents had fallen asleep, Hoffa climbed up from his bed and made a gesture towards the outside of his tent.
With the light of the fire, he could see his horse's body shrink and elongate. Finally, it turned into a graceful S-shaped figure. The God of Nightmares transformed from a horse back to her human form, lifted the curtain, and walked in.
Hoffa didn't understand why she had to transform into a beauty every day. Clearly, she could transform into any form she wanted.
"Can't you change your appearance?" he asked with a smile.
The God of Nightmares didn't speak. Her face was cold, and her pace gradually quickened. Then, she pounced on Hoffa and pressed him down on the bed. Her hand mercilessly strangled his neck. With a ferocious expression, she said, "Next time, before you come up with an idea, you'd better discuss it with me. I can cooperate with you, but you'd better not blaspheme."
"Uh …"
Hoffa was choked and could not breathe. In the Dream World, his physical strength was not as strong as in the real world. In most cases, he was about the same as a normal adult.
He was so suffocated that he did not dare to make a sound. All he could do was twist the God of Nightmares' arms.
The God of Nightmares, who had eaten shit, must have been suppressing it for a long time. He did not dare to act up earlier, but that did not mean that he did not care.
Just as Hoffa was about to lose consciousness, his neck was released. He immediately collapsed onto the bed, holding his neck as he tried to suppress his breathing.
"You … you want to defeat … someone like Silby … you have to … you have to pay a price."
"Alright, pay the price of eating shit. What do you want to do?" The God of Nightmares sneered. "If we don't go back now, I'm afraid that person outside will really die."
"Cough … cough …" Hoffa said in a trembling voice, "I want to enter the dream world of the group's subconscious, do … do you have a way?"
The God of Nightmares was shocked by his idea. "Enter another level? That's a double-layered dream world. Do you know what that means? All the unstable factors will be magnified. "
"Is that important?" Hoffa recovered his breathing.
"Very important. It concerns your life and death. Do you really want to go in? "
"Of course. These soldiers are the embodiment of the rules set by Silby Spencer. To a certain extent, they are equivalent to Silby. Only by entering their dream world can I know what Silby wants to do."
The God of Nightmares was hesitant.
One of the soldiers in the camp turned over and snorted. The two of them tacitly shut their mouths.
After a moment of silence, Hoffa said, "Why, you can't do it?"
"It's not that I can't do it. That's a double-layered dream world," the God of Nightmares warned.
The God of Nightmares warned, "It's not strange for anything to happen in there. Besides, it's already very difficult to get out of this dream. The guy outside is about to die. If you can't find a way out before he dies, the world will have another person in a vegetative state."
"Then do you have a better idea?"
Hoffa asked.
"It's too risky." The God of Nightmares shook his head. "My suggestion is to find a way to leave this place and destroy Silby's body physically."
Hoffa sighed. "I don't want to fight an enemy I don't understand anymore.
To be honest, ever since I met him in second grade, I've never known his true thoughts. Why did he blow up Hogwarts back then? Why did he live for so many years? Why did he break the curse? What is his goal in life? I have no idea. "
"You already have the power of time. Why do you still need to understand him? As long as you find him, he won't be your match in the real world," the God of Nightmares suggested.
Hoffa laughed self-deprecatingly. "Forgive me for being blunt. He used time as a weapon 50 years earlier than I did, perhaps 300,000 years earlier. I don't believe that he doesn't have a backup plan."
The God of Nightmares pondered for a long time before he finally compromised. "How about this? I'll help you enter the second layer of the dream, but I won't go in myself."
Okay, that's an expected answer, Hoffa thought. That's very godly. If he died, the God of Nightmares could still find another way.
However, after going through six thousand cycles of life and death, he had seen through many things and understood many things.
Gods only represented rules and did not have many emotions. The world needed nightmares, so there was the God of Nightmares. The world needed death, so there was the Grim Reaper. The world needed night, so there was the Grim Reaper. None of them could dominate the world. The God of Nightmares would not kill himself out of anger, and he could not use the power of time to do whatever he wanted. The God of Nightmares did not want to bet everything on himself. If it were him, he would have done the same. The divine blood in his body told him that the world was above all else.
"Come on."
Hoffa closed his eyes.
The God of Nightmares pressed one hand on his forehead and the other on the soldier's.
As if he was pushed into the water, he began to fall with a splash.
This time, he dived for a longer time. There was no light in front of him, and his ears were filled with the sound of flowing water. The pressure from all directions made it difficult for him to breathe. Gradually, something appeared in the dark pool. He closed his eyes and allowed the thing to drag him upstream.
.....
Splash. Accompanied by the relief of being out of the water.
.....
He could breathe now.
When he opened his eyes, the dream changed again.
He wore a thick fur coat and stood in a charred snowfield. The cold air around him was oppressive.
Snowflakes floated down from the dark sky like goose feathers, landing on his shoulders and the tip of his nose.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Zizi's footsteps came from above him.
He raised his head and saw that he was standing under a city wall. The city wall was covered with stairs made of thick wooden beams that were firmly nailed to the stone wall. The long stairs twisted and turned like lightning, climbing up the city wall in a zigzag manner.
Rows of soldiers ran up the stairs in an orderly manner, holding all kinds of standard weapons in their hands, long axes or bows. They were probably preparing for a battle or a drill. Each of them carried a shield with a double-headed eagle and a cross on their back.
It was not much different from the barracks just now, but the atmosphere was more tense.
"Is the kerosene ready?"
"It'll be there soon!"
"Are there enough rolling stones?"
"Not enough."
"If not, get the craftsmen to pick them quickly. Also, bring up the 30,000 arrows! Those damn fellows could come at any time! "
The noisy orders and orders echoed in Hoffa's ears. He could not help but stand under the city wall and mutter to himself, "What the hell is this place?"
He walked towards the city wall, his boots stepping on the ice of the cold night. The snow crunched under his feet, and his breath condensed into frost in front of him like a flag. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and walked even faster.
"Hey! You! "
A soldier saw him and shouted. "What are you doing?"
A few soldiers who found him threw away the arrows in their hands, walked faster, crossed the city wall, and surrounded him. Some even pulled out a sharp sword and pointed it at his neck.
"Who are you? You don't look familiar. Are you a spy sent by the wizards?"
A spy sent by the wizards?
Hoffa widened his eyes slightly. Were these muggle soldiers waging war with the wizards? He did not remember such a thing in history.
At this time, a priest in a red robe quickly walked down the ladder of the city wall. "What's going on? What's going on!?" He asked loudly, "What's going on? Why are you making so much noise here?"
"Father Maxke, a stranger broke in. We suspect that he is a spy sent by Pandora," the soldier replied.
"Spy?"
The red-robed priest immediately put his nose in front of Hoffa and asked with his face close to his face, "Are you a spy?"
"No."
"Then tell me when Christ's birthday is," the priest said darkly.
"Ah? What? "Hoffa was caught off guard by this question.
"I don't know!"
The priest's nostrils suddenly enlarged. "Sure enough, you are a heretic."
He immediately pulled out a Bible with a black cover from his waist, opened it, and read aloud, "Those who walk in the darkness, servants of devils and evil spirits, will be purified by the light of the world. Now, submit to the Spirit of Truth, heretic —" The priest closed the book and said, "Do it!"
The soldiers raised the sharp swords in their hands.
"Wait a minute!"
Huo Fa raised his hand and shouted, stopping the soldiers who were acting out of the blue.
"What do you want to say?"
The red-robed priest asked coldly.
"I am an intelligence officer from the rear, responsible for handing over information. How dare you treat me like this!" Huo Fa shouted righteously, "Luckily, I ran hundreds of kilometers to save you, and this is what I'm going to get?! Where is your person in charge, I want to see him! "
"Intelligence officer?"
The soldiers looked at each other.
The priest looked at him suspiciously, "Do you have any evidence?"
Hoffa closed his eyes, took off his gloves, and searched his chest for a moment. When he opened his eyes, he took out a sealed letter from his pocket and handed it forward, "Here, take a look yourself!"
The red-robed priest snatched the letter from his hand and read it.
Huo Fa held his breath. He didn't even know what was on the letter. Everything was just a figment of his imagination. Anyway, this was a sweet dream. Any wish that was within his scope of knowledge could be realized.
After the red-robed priest finished reading the letter, his expression became unreadable. He closed the letter, looking very hesitant. The soldiers held their breaths at the side, silently waiting for the priest's orders.
"There is no problem with the letter, but why don't you even know Christ's birthday?" The priest was still worried.
Hoffa's expression did not change, "Because I remember the day of his death, from that day onwards, the world changed."
The priest's expression became slightly better, he was a little unwilling to give up, "Count yourself lucky, I will take you to see the Pope, see if you will give yourself away."
The soldiers all looked vexed, and let go of Hoffa.
The priest brought Hoffa up the city wall, and when they reached a high place, he realized that there was a huge difference between here and the previous layer of the dream.
The previous layer of the dream was some beautiful illusion, full of comical and unreal, but the things in this layer of the dream should have happened.
Outside the city wall, trenches were dug one after another, the spurs were neatly pointed outwards, fierce and sharp. There were all kinds of corpses on the spurs, the corpses were burned into charcoal in the flames. Some injured horses that lost their owners limped in the flames, some dragged their intestines, and fell to the ground after walking for a short distance.
In the distance, amidst the dancing snowflakes, the enemy's tents could be vaguely seen. They were lit up in the darkness, huge and quiet.
War.
The war between the wizards and the muggles.
Hoffa really wanted to know what happened here, but he did not dare to ask, afraid that he would expose himself.
He silently followed behind the red-robed priest, he did not know how long they walked.
The priest brought him to a church in the middle of the city.
The church had been transformed into a medical center, countless clergymen in white robes were running around, they were pressing down the wounded on the beds, some of the wounded had their legs burned into a bloody mess, leaving only black bones, and the clergymen were sawing their legs with a saw, the air reverberated with heart-chilling screams.
It was the complete opposite of the first layer of the dream, Hoffa began to wonder, what was Silby doing, why did he build a beautiful dream on top of a nightmare?
He could not understand.
The priest brought him through the hall filled with screams, through the dark corridor, to a bedroom in the depths of the church, and pushed the door open.
"Go in, go with the Pope to complete the mission."
The red-robed priest said.
"The Pope!?"
Hoffa looked over the red-robed priest's shoulder into the bedroom.
It would have been better if he did not look, but what he saw gave him a fright.
There was a four-poster bed in the bedroom, and a sickly old man was lying on the bed, Hoffa was very familiar with the old man. He had snow-white hair and a crooked nose.
It was Abusi Dumbledore.
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