At the edge of the dream abyss, Lin Rong was immersed in an unprecedented fantasy nightmare. He seemed to be in chaos, his eyelids were as heavy as lead, but he was suddenly awakened by an inexplicable chill. This cold was not like the cold in the world, but the cold wind from the netherworld, which silently penetrated the barrier of his nihilistic dream and reached his heart and spleen. He waved his arms wildly, trying to grasp the out-of-reach warmth - a quilt that could resist the biting cold, but he only touched nothingness.
