He wandered around for a while.
At the end of the prison was a storage room, about half the size of a classroom. It was piled with torture implements such as shackles and rivets.
Unlike the cells outside,
there was a window with iron bars nailed across it on the wall of this room.
Beyond the window was pitch-black. Nothing could be seen.
However, the dense moisture filling the air and the faint sound of waves drifting over still allowed Jiang Qiao to roughly determine that there was probably a body of water outside.
The hollow sound of wind howled past.
Faint screams and sobs from far away drifted through the wind.
There was no doubt that whatever lay outside was no pleasant place. It was probably another terrifying Supernatural place.
"Clatter—!"
Suddenly.
The sound of chains sliding came from behind him.
Then, with a "clack," something fell to the floor.
Jiang Qiao whipped around and saw that one of the ankle shackles that had been sitting on the iron rack had slipped onto the floor.
The shackle was extremely thick.
It weighed at least forty or fifty pounds.
Not only was it covered in rust, it was also stained with dark-brown blood.
"How did it fall by itself?"
Jiang Qiao frowned.
The room fell silent again. Nothing was there.
It seemed that it had really fallen to the floor simply because it had been left there for too long.
But what were the odds of such a coincidence?
There had once been a story.
In a certain prison, most of the inmates were serious criminals, and there were quite a few condemned prisoners awaiting execution by firing squad. Deep inside the cell block was a warehouse, much like the one Jiang Qiao was looking at now.
It contained shackles