There was no light in life. For Lu'er, there was only the exhausting day at hand and the even more exhausting day to come.
She was an orphan. Or rather, more than ninety percent of Long-Hand Tribe children did not know who their parents were.
Perhaps they had once loved them. Perhaps they had once smiled warmly.
"313! Why are you still dawdling? Do you not want to live?!"
Her companion's furious rebuke brought her back to her senses.
Numbly yet gratefully, she nodded and sped up her cleaning of the bookshelves.
This was the city Library of Gui City. As one of the Lava Clan's frontier colonies, it was also a gathering place for Gray Dwarves.
And since the masters of the colony would naturally never work themselves, they had a considerable number of slaves bear all the labor.
The Long-Hand Tribe slaves were the Library owner's private property. That was the identity of Lu'er and her friends.
On her forehead was a shameful Volcano Festival brand. It had been seared directly onto her when she was captured, and the cost might have been no more than one less whipping or one bottle of water.
She was not a warrior. Right before her eyes, one of her sisters had refused to accept that humiliating mark and smashed her head against a wall, killing herself on the spot.
She, along with her kin who still clung to life as slaves, could not be called warriors either. The true warriors had perhaps already been slaughtered clean during their resistance at the time of capture.
"Hurry up, 313, or we won't have food again. It might even be worse."
Seeing the unease on No. 317's face, Lu'er knew what he did not dare say aloud.
They had heard that the "masters" had