Drip…
Drip…
A woman dressed as a member of the clergy, in a nun's habit, floated above Du Wei's body, opening her mouth to let droplets of dark brown blood slowly fall from her fierce fangs.
The thick, damp, and icy liquid slowly dripped onto the tip of his nose.
Du Wei only felt a bone-chilling coldness creeping down from his nose, slowly spreading across his face.
He tried to open his eyes but simply couldn't.
This was the third time he had had this nightmare.
At the beginning, he was completely unable to resist; the entire dream was torture, with only his right hand able to move.
The air grew heavier and heavier, as if compressing his lungs, making Du Wei's breathing more and more rapid, each breath an exertion of his full strength.
In the dream, he told himself that according to the previous pattern, if he waited a little longer, he would be able to open his eyes, and he would see the nun getting closer and closer to him.
And then, he would wake up from the dream.
