The bottom level of the Eightfold Blood Prison was pitch-black. Only a room at the end shone with a bright lamp, dispelling the silent darkness and warming the lonely hearts of its occupants.
The silent prisoners in the other cells quietly watched this scene. Many let out painful, hoarse sounds from their throats, as though they were wails of souls wrung dry and dripping away. Their long-dried eye sockets now overflowed with tears of memory.
These prisoners had thought they had accepted their fate, grown numb, and resigned themselves to being maggots in the darkness. They had been steeped in despair for too long, so even the tiniest bit of warmth or happiness could stab them to the core.
How could anyone be willing to venture into the Eightfold Blood Prison to save someone...? Had that kid living at the end of the cells saved the world in his previous life?!
Yet at this moment, the happiest person in the Eightfold Blood Prison was not feeling particularly happy. Instead, he was experiencing a rare trace of awkwardness. The Immortal Blood Physique clearly meant he should not feel embarrassed, but Le Yu still felt that the air had suddenly become suffocating.
Qing Lan left the cell door ajar and sat down gracefully on the edge of the bed. She picked up Blood-Clothed Marquis, which Le Yu had just put down, flipped through a couple of pages, and asked, "Is it any good? Qingmei likes reading this book before bed. I read a few pages, but the viciousness and resentment between the lines were too heavy, so I stopped."
"It's extremely bloody and violent. A sage would feel compassion after reading it, a good person would feel fear, a bad person would feel delight, and scum would want to imitate it," Le