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In the grand church, a group of serious slime writers sat around a long table. At the top of the long table, the golden slime swelled with anger: "You have written Diga to death, who will do the next tasks!" The chocolate-colored slime was unconvinced: "Brother Green, you can chapter twenty chapters a day and don't let it go unfinished. You have no (slime) character!" The church suddenly became noisy, everyone started talking nonsense, and the solemn atmosphere disappeared. 　　 Suddenly, a pair of gentle big hands touched its head: "So, is this the reason why you let me die suddenly?" 　　 The solemn and solemn atmosphere instantly returned to its original state. The chocolate slime was sweating like rain: "Mr. Dagu, I will change it immediately. You can go about your task with peace of mind." 　　 ... That night, the enemy's chief deacon encountered an unprecedented crisis after falling into a dream. A 50-meter-tall Ultraman stood in front of him: "Xia!"