I'm going to have a fight with Superman

Chapter 556 Entering Hell
Murphys had already issued a greeting card and had Lucifer's permission. With his status as the supreme being, he naturally wouldn't queue up.

When he fell from the sky and landed at the gate of hell, he didn't get the promised "Eetrigen personally greeted him".

An iron fence rose from the cracked ground to hold him back.

Later, his identity was recognized, and a large group of demons and ghosts surrounded him.

Murphys wasn't afraid either, he just walked slowly towards the closed iron gate.

When he was about to knock on the door, there was a sudden commotion from outside the group of demons, "Make way, the old devil is coming!"

Devil?

That was obviously Harley, but she actually walked over in a very high-profile manner.

This runs counter to the low-key secrecy they had previously negotiated.

He couldn't help but glanced sideways at her.

The pale pretty face under the dream cloak seemed to be smiling, and gave him a sly smile.

Murphys kept his composure and thumped the "doorbell" vigorously: beside the gate of the iron fence, there was a gong with a huge eye pattern.

"Bang, bang, bang—"

The sound was so loud, piercing clouds and cracking stones, resounding through the smaller half of Lingbo Prison and the larger half of the first level of hell.

Iron railing gates and fences are not empty, with human heads strung on rusty steel bars. They are all dead ghosts, and 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 Squatter!" They yelled in unison, squinting their eyes, looking at Murphys with weird eyes, and a mocking smile appeared on the corners of their mouths.

"Buzzing buzzing buzzing" Because of their restlessness, the flies that had bitten their faces and sucked blood flew around in shock, their necks were broken, and a few fat maggots dropped after rinsing.

"There is someone knocking on the door, knocking on the door of this depravity."

A chant came from far behind the door, and a strange-looking demon gradually appeared on the horizon.

He is muscular all over, but his body looks very deformed. His feet are huge, his ankles are as thin as hemp sticks, and his body is shaped like a water tank. However, he is less than 1.4 meters tall. A double-edged ax on his left arm has replaced his palm. The head was severed, and two egg-sized eyes grew from the severed neck.

"You who are going to hell, are you a killer, a trick girl, a fraudster, or just a thief?" it sang, pulling open the iron door with its right hand, "It doesn't matter, anyway, there will always be a seat here until the end of the world For you to perish, come on, perish, revel!"

"Squat tumor, take me to see your master." Murphys folded his arms and said lightly.

"Oh, ridiculous thing, who are you, dare to make such a request?" The devil sneered.

This was obviously a fault finding. Even the monsters waiting in line outside quickly recognized Murphy's identity - the key was that Murphy did not hide his appearance and aura.

The breath of the Most High is too evident.

"I am the master of dreams, the ruler of the kingdom of nightmares."

In Murphys' pool-like eyes, the starlight of the cross flickered again.

"Where's your crown?" Squatterum was still sneering.

Murphys pursed his lips, the robe of dream was automatic without wind, flames and various distorted faces appeared and disappeared under the hem of the robe.

"My helmet was stolen by a certain demon. This visit to the King of Hell is to get it back."

"Oh, ridiculous thing, where is your ruby? Or are you completely lost to your former glory? Hahaha"

"BOOOOOOM!"

Before the squat tumor's laughter stopped, Murphy's pale fist landed on it, abruptly like a dream transition.

In the last moment, Murphys was still crossing his arms, with a calm expression, chatting with the hell guard four or five meters away, and in the next moment, his bony fist had already blown it up.

It was as if a missile exploded suddenly at the gate of hell, and a ten-meter-diameter mushroom cloud rose from smoke, dust and flesh.

The faces of all the demons behind the door were pale, they swallowed their saliva, and retreated in unison.

"I come to this country as a guest, just like I am a king in my own country! Even Lucifer will not tolerate your insult to the distinguished guest." Murphys withdrew his fist and said indifferently.

"Hissing hissing" strands of black smoke gathered like poisonous snakes from all directions, forming a squat tumor in the explosion crater.

"Oh, ridiculous stuff"

It still wants to laugh, and there is a scream from a distance: "Squatoma, go back, you are just a fool who guards the gate, the honorable task of welcoming the Lord of Dreams belongs to me, Etrigen, this is the order of the Lord of Hell !"

With fins and ears, red skin, and a tattered cloak, Eitrigan still looked familiar to Harry.

He jumped up and landed in front of Murphys, respectfully said: "Dear King of Dreams, I will serve as your guide and lead you through the nine hells to Satan's palace."

The shaming of the Sandman ended here, the gates of hell reopened, the undead and demons slowly walked in, Etrigen and Murphys quickly disappeared under the horizon.

Harry stopped for a moment at the gates of hell.

This is a very "artistic impact" door, with countless human corpses intertwined in a stormy gesture.

They are naked and retain their dead form and expression.

In terms of style, it looks like a zombie wall that surrounds the wall and breaks through to the city. It freezes in time and space at a certain moment, and then moves here.

But it has such impeccable detail and "scent" that almost every corpse tells a vivid story in its own right.

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

"This door is a wonderful work of art. When I go back, if I play stone carving, I may not be able to surpass Rodin."

With this weird idea in mind, Harley stepped into hell.

"There is someone knocking on the door, knocking on the door of the sinking." The left hand was replaced by a double-edged ax with a wooden handle, squatting at the door, scanning every demon and undead entering the door with the eyes on the neck, and chanting "Are you a killer, a skilled girl, or a petty thief? Those who step into this door should give up hope, until the end of the world, there is room for you to perish"

There are undead answering its own crimes, and there are undead who are confused.

All evil magicians, ignore it.

At other times, Harley would have liked to have talked to the guy, to see how he would taunt himself with vitriol - as he had done to Murphys.

But today she is a spy, so she can't be too ostentatious.

There is another world behind the gate of hell. The space seems to be wider, but it feels more depressing. There is a real pain lingering on the soul, making the soul in an uncomfortable state all the time.

On the drowsy and vast dry and cracked land, the souls of the cowardly and inactive are floating.

They made only small mistakes but not serious evils, wasting their lives and energies in hesitation, doubt and shrinking.

Maybe I have set up countless ideals and plans, but I have never really tried it.

Not even a big failure.

Their lives are as dull as clear water, and they go to hell after death, and they also live a very "dull" life, without torture and torture, just wandering in emptiness in the wasteland.

Walking half a mile in, demons, evil things and fallen mages gathered together to form a small market.

There are also some demonic 'officials', responsible for leading the undead and fallen to the far river of hell.

Charon's ship was waiting there.

Some demons are like middle-aged idlers who have no job, no wife and no money in the world, squatting on the side of the road, pointing and commenting on the undead who have just arrived in hell, and from time to time they show an idiot-like greedy expression on their faces.

It's a pity they dare not do it.

Hell has its own rules. Those who have a little intersection with elements such as demons, darkness, depravity, and hell during life have masters after death or their souls, or they are sent to the devil in a unified way, and they are assigned and selected according to authority.

Those undead who are honest and have never dealt with the extraordinary belong to hell itself and will be arranged in the corresponding 'prisons' on each floor.

"This is a peerless old devil, don't mess with him."

"Dare to kill casually at the gate of hell, so fierce."

"Look at this breath, it may have something to do with the big man in the depths of hell, let him go."

When Harry passed by them, they attracted a lot of attention, and some guys were just about to move.

If she was sure she was a demon, no one would look at her.

But she has a mysterious aura at the moment, a bit like an outsider - a fallen mage, or an evil creature.

Outsiders can be tricked, robbed, and murdered.

However, after hearing that she spit out a mouthful of thick phlegm to death the demon nobleman, all the malicious intentions were replaced by fear and guard.

She came unimpeded to the mouth of the river Styx in hell.

It is said to be a river, but it is more like a sea. The muddy yellow-brown river water is like the vomit of a drunkard, with a disgusting stench.

The low-hanging black clouds, like Styx's lover, bent down to kiss the river's face.

The tragic gray wind was mixed with the howls of countless undead, causing waves on the river surface. In the spray, you can still see the swollen and whitish corpses, and the broken and numb souls.

Harry watched from left to right, thousands of newborn and dead souls, like crude oil from an oil pipeline, were being poured into Charon's big wooden boat.

The [-]-meter-long ship filled tens of thousands of undead.

They were packed together like sardines, leaving no gaps in the deck.

Harry also saw three acquaintances.

Just opposite the rowing boat, there was a tattered yellow school bus parked. Three old witches with crooked mouths and squinting eyes sat side by side in the driver's seat, and they even stuck their necks out the window, calling out guests loudly.

The big witch shouted: "Come take the hell bus, it is faster and more comfortable than the ferry."

The second witch then shouted: "Our bus is safer than the ferry, and it will never fall into the river."

The three witches stretched their necks by four or five meters, and shouted at the demons and monsters who came over: "It's more honorable to take the bus, don't you gentlemen also want to squeeze together with mud legs?"

"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?
"Very cheap, an ancient silver coin." The big witch said.

"Greece, Rome, King Arthur, the Huns, Great Qin... silver coins from any country are fine." The two witches explained.

"Put your hand into your pocket, and your funeral objects will be converted into hell silver coins." The three witches said.

The fat man was skeptical, reached into the pocket of his trousers, and said pleasantly, "There is really a Greek silver coin."

Then he took out several times in a row, his complexion changed drastically, "I followed the gold nuclear bomb to buy stocks, and I made tens of billions of worth in just ten years. How come I only have one silver coin?"

The big witch said: "Your son is stingy and reluctant to part with money."

The second witch said: "Your family and friends are stingy, and they are reluctant to give you love and miss."

The three witches said: "The belongings in the coffin, plus the longing and love of the living for you, is the sum of your wealth after death."

"Ding ding dong dong." A thin old man in old work clothes beside him took out a silver waterfall from his ragged boxers.

(End of this chapter)