On the Eve of Enlightenment

"Aaaaaaah--"

A piercing scream echoed within the "confinement room," but was contained within this not-so-large room by the thick walls.

Sitting in his Wheelchair, Fran directed his men to pluck the fingernails one by one from the hand bound in the position of Exodia. Although he couldn't understand the curses, the extremely painful screams were the only remedy Fran could use to comfort himself.

But today, no matter how shrill the screams of the creature before him were, Fran could hardly feel any peace. It was as if his favorite song had suddenly become as unpleasant as noise.

However, Fran did not stop his men's actions. As he watched the wounds being inflicted on the other man's body, he became even more calm and thoughtful.

He wasn't unaware of the reasons for his current situation.

His position was threatened.

Jeston is an idiot, a good-for-nothing abandoned by his family and left to languish and die in a garbage dump like Saint Lotan City.

But like most rich kids who are treated this way, they have no shortage of money and experience, which is why they are able to get opportunities to develop here. If it were a self-made millionaire, no matter how hard he tried, the other party would probably just think he was crazy.

But things are different now. Even if his Trojan horse project succeeded by sheer luck, the profit from it would be at most a few dozen Magical Item a year, which is nothing compared to the income from a craftsman who can create Magical Item every day.

Once his abilities are fully proven, the costly and difficult-to-secrete Trojan Horse Plan will easily be shut down, and he himself, who knows of the craftsman's existence, might be silenced.

Even if that idiot Jeston doesn't think of silencing them, it will be difficult for him to take revenge on these demons.

His life had been utterly destroyed by those demons, and now his motivation to live was to take revenge on these monsters.

But once he lost Jeston as his financial backer, he didn't even have the resources to restart his revenge plan. Even though Jeston had given him a lot of money over the years, the Trojan Horse Plan required more than just money. It also needed bait to be sacrificed, a trustworthy armed team, and information channels to keep track of the city's movements.

These are all things he lacks. In fact, with his disabled body, it would be very difficult for him to find a qualified new partner.

"Alright, that's enough for today." Fran listlessly started his Wheelchair and returned to his residence. After thinking for a long time, he finally found a ridiculously rudimentary cell phone and dialed a number.

"Who are you? Where did you get this number?" A calm voice with a hint of arrogance came through the receiver. Fran frowned slightly, but still said:

"How I know this number is not important. More important, Mr. Jonson, don't you want to know how your brother obtained so many Magical Item?"

"Oh? Interesting. What do you want?" The voice on the other end of the line immediately became warmer. Although they weren't face to face, Fran could almost see a face rapidly changing from cold to kind.

A sinister smile etched across his scarred face as he slowly spoke into the microphone:

"Believe me, what I want is insignificant to you..."

"It's increased again... Hmm, should it be five portions now? Or six?" Feng Xue felt the [knowledge] feedback from the [Money Printer] Tag increase again, and her lips twitched slightly. Without a doubt, the number of people who knew her information had increased again.

However, he also noticed something: ordinary bodyguards, even knowing his abilities, didn't seem to develop any awareness of the Money Printer Tag. This was probably because they knew very well that no matter how much money they "printed," it wouldn't belong to them.

Following this principle, those who can empower this Tag must be people who are confident they can gain sufficient benefits from it.

"Looks like someone's going to break out of prison soon," Feng Xue thought to himself with a slight sigh, but he didn't intend to take this opportunity to escape. Or rather, he didn't think the people who broke out of prison would be any dumber than Jeston.

Not to mention that the idea of a prison break is just speculation; perhaps Jeston simply reported his own affairs to his powerful backer.

"Bang bang bang..." The knocking sound from the iron cage interrupted Feng Xue's thoughts. He turned his head and saw that it was Jeston's secretary. After the second time he successfully created the Phantom Object, Jeston's attitude towards him had obviously changed. Not only was the person sent to deliver his meal now his secretary, but the type of lunch had also changed to Spanish Seafood Paella, which looked much more serious than fried chicken.

"Sir, this is today's lunch. The boss said that if there's anything you'd like to eat, you can just tell me." The secretary spoke in broken Yan Country Language using a phonetic transliteration machine, but the incredible Translation Konjac made it easy for Feng Xue to understand even this strange hybrid language.

However, he did not reveal this comprehension ability. Instead, he seemed to have a vague understanding and paused for a moment. Then, taking advantage of the grammatical errors in the other person's words and the fact that the other person did not understand Yan Country Language, he distorted the meaning of his words, drew two word cards, and showed them to the other person.

"Comfort", "clothes"...

The secretary frowned, wanting to say that I meant "want to eat" something, not "want" something, but considering the potential flaws in machine translation, she hesitated for a moment, but still recited the prepared lines:

"I need to report this to my boss."

Upon hearing this, Feng Xue nodded in understanding, then took the plate handed to her through the food delivery window, walked to the bedside, and began to eat.

The food, as always, reflected the strong flavors typical of Colombia, being very salty and oily, but it was much better than the super salty fried chicken from last night.

However, what Feng Xue cared about at this moment was not whether the food tasted good or not, but the tableware that came with the plate.

While he wasn't provided with a full set of Western-style cutlery, he did receive a plastic spoon, a dental flosser, and several napkins. Compared to yesterday when he had to wipe his hands on his prison uniform, this was quite thoughtful.

Although this thoughtfulness is still based on the prisoners themselves, it at least means that their status here has changed from that of an ordinary prisoner to a prisoner who needs to be treated kindly. This slight change in mindset is enough to lower the guards' vigilance by several orders of magnitude.

Feng Xue quickly finished a bowl of seafood rice, patted her belly, and began pacing around the cell to digest. Although this seemed unnecessary, it was to leave a stereotypical impression on the prison guards. According to the spy chief in a certain work, as long as you repeat a certain behavior day after day and make it a habit, you can easily gain a period of freedom.

Just as he was pondering his escape plan, a series of footsteps sounded again. Feng Xue turned her head and saw the secretary who had brought her food earlier reappear in her field of vision, carrying a tray with neatly folded fabric in his hands.

"Sir, your clothes."