I want to have a date with Superman

Morpheus had already sent out a greeting and received Lucifer's permission. Coupled with his status as the supreme being, he naturally would 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 door.

When he was about to knock on the door, a loud noise suddenly came from outside the demon group, "Quickly give way, an old demon is coming!"

Devil?

It was obviously Harley, and she walked over in an upright and high-profile manner.

This was contrary to 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 Dream seemed to be smiling, giving him a sly smile.

Morpheus remained calm and banged the "doorbell" hard: 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 a small part of Limbo and most of the first level of hell.

The iron gates and walls are not empty. Human heads are strung on the rusty iron bars. They are all dead ghosts, but they can still see the world with their eyes open and open their mouths to speak.

"Oh, my master, there is a guy knocking on the door, Master Squat!" They shouted in unison, squinting their eyes, looking at Morpheus with strange eyes, and 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 distant chant came from behind the door, and a strange-looking demon slowly 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 fall into hell, are you a killer, a skilled woman, a swindler, 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, have a carnival!”

"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 demons lining up outside waiting to enter quickly recognized Morpheus's identity - the key was that Morpheus did not hide 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."

Morpheus's pool-like eyes once again flashed with cross stars.

"Where is your crown?" Squatt's tumor still sneered.

Morpheus pursed his lips, and the Dream Robe automatically moved without wind. 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, that's ridiculous. 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 holding his hands on 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 as 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 Squart 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 gates of hell.

This is a door with great "artistic impact". Countless human corpses are intertwined in a storm-like manner.

They are all unclothed and retain the same form and expression as when they died.

In terms of style, it looks like a zombie wall surrounding a wall and breaking through the city. Time and space solidified at a certain moment, and then moved here.

But it has very perfect details and "rhyme", and almost every corpse tells a vivid story by itself.

Harley can even see with the naked eye, experience and intuitively experience, and analyze everyone's crimes and pain.

"This door is an ingenious work of art. When I go back, if I play stone carving, 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 spirit who entered the door, and muttered in his mouth. poem, "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 the undead that answer its own crimes, and there are the undead that are confused.

All evil magicians ignored it.

At any other time, Harley would have loved to talk to the thing 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 aura of 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 the cowardly and incompetent are floating.

They only made small mistakes but no major evils during their lives, and they wasted their lives and energy in hesitation, doubt and fear.

Maybe you have established countless ideals and plans, but never really tried them.

Not even a big failure.

Their lives were 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. They squat on the roadside, pointing and criticizing the newly arrived undead souls in hell, and from time to time there is a greedy look on their faces.

It's a pity that they dare not take action.

Hell has its own rules. Those who had some contact with elements such as demons, darkness, corruption, and hell during their lifetimes will either have their souls have an owner after death, or they will be sent to the Demon King to be distributed and 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 definitely 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 cheated, 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 vigilance.

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 tragic gray wind mixed with the painful howls of countless undead souls set off waves on the river. In the water, 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 and more comfortable than the ferry."

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 demons and monsters coming over: "Taking a bus is more noble, do you have to squeeze in with the mud-legged people?"

"How much does it cost to cross the river?" asked a fat man in a suit.

Harley 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, Qin... any country will do." 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 put his hand into his trousers pocket and said in surprise: "There is really a Greek silver coin."

Then he took out the 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.