Prison? Using these Death Row Inmates to Practice on You

Seeing Luo Shang approach, two rows of soldiers knelt on one knee in perfect unison.

"Your Highness."

Luo Shang nodded, not slowing his pace.

The soldiers stood up and, working in pairs, pushed open the massive iron gates.

Behind the gates lay a vast space.

Luo Yun walked in and stood at the entrance; as he took in the scene before him, his pupils constricted slightly.

A prison.

A massive, underground prison.

Iron bars partitioned the space into cramped cells, each holding people.

Men, women, the elderly—all were present.

The clothes on their backs were so filthy their original colors were unrecognizable, their hair was matted into tangled clumps, and their faces were caked in grime.

Their eyes reflected the torchlight—some hollow, some ferocious, others filled with madness...

They looked like anything but good people.

Luo Yun made a rough count; there were at least several hundred.

No, more than that.

As his gaze traveled deeper into the darkness beyond the reach of the torches, even more eyes flickered in the shadows.

Thousands of people.

Imprisoned here.

Luo Shang stood beside Luo Yun, his voice low, yet clearly audible in the cavernous prison.

"These people are all death-row inmates."

His tone was flat, as if stating a simple fact.

"Enemy spies, evil soul masters who slaughtered civilians, child traffickers, bandits who massacred villages—these are all heinous criminals who deserve to die."

Luo Yun remained silent, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the prisoners.

"By law, they should have been executed long ago," Luo Shang paused, "but I kept a portion of them."

He looked down at Luo Yun.

"For you to use."

Luo Yun's fingers twitched slightly, but he did not speak.

Luo Shang signaled to his adjutant.

The adjutant was a man in his forties with a scar running diagonally from his forehead to his chin. He was burly, exuding the fierce, hardened aura of a veteran who had survived countless battles.

He was Luo Shang's trusted confidant, a powerhouse at the Soul Emperor level who had been stationed in Frost Ridge City for over a decade.

He walked to the cells, unlocked an iron gate, and dragged out ten prisoners.

The chains on their bodies clattered as they were shoved by the adjutant and several soldiers into the open space in the center of the prison.

Some stumbled, some could barely stand, while others kept their heads bowed in silence.

The torchlight illuminated their faces.

An old man with a long beard looked up at the darkness above, fragmented by the iron bars, and tears suddenly welled up in his murky eyes.

"Out..." his voice was so hoarse it was barely audible, "I'm out..."

"I regret it so much... I regret it so much..."

Before he could finish, he was interrupted by a burly man beside him.

The man had a face full of flab, a shaved head, and a snake tattooed on his neck. Even in chains, he held his back straight.

He looked at the soldiers before him, and instead of fear, he grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"You stinking government lackeys."

"If you've got the guts, release me and fight me fair and square! What kind of cowardice is it to lock me up in here? Come on! Come on!"

His voice grew louder and more arrogant, spittle flying from his mouth.

Luo Shang's brow furrowed slightly.

Without even lifting an eyelid, the adjutant stepped forward and smashed a fist into the burly man's mouth.

A punch from a Soul Emperor was not something an ordinary person could withstand.

The man's mouth was knocked askew, and several teeth flew out, clattering onto the ground.

His entire mouth split open, blood and saliva streaming from the corners of his lips as he collapsed like a heap of mud, his knees hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Silence followed.

Luo Yun stood to the side, watching the scene, his heart giving a violent jolt.

It was not fear.

It was an indescribable feeling.

Luo Shang glanced at him without a word.

Then, he turned around to face the remaining nine prisoners.

Those nine men, who had each worn different expressions moments ago, now had eyes filled entirely with terror.

Their bodies retreated involuntarily.

Luo Shang's voice was not loud, but in the quiet prison, every word was crystal clear.

"You are all on death row. By law, you are all to die."

The nine men held their breath.

"But I will give you a chance." Luo Shang's gaze swept across their faces one by one. "This is this King's son."

He pointed at Luo Yun.

The nine men's gazes fell in unison upon Luo Yun.

A six-year-old child stood under the torchlight, dressed in clean clothes, his face bearing a calmness that did not belong to his age.

"As long as you can wound him, even if it is just a cut on his finger, I will let you go."

The nine men were stunned.

The silence lasted for several heartbeats.

Then, a gaunt, middle-aged prisoner spoke, his voice dry: "You mean... as long as we wound him, you will let us go?"

"This King's word is final."

The gazes of those prisoners changed.

Fear receded, replaced by a fanatical light.

Some had already begun to flex their wrists.

Some licked their cracked lips.

The light in some eyes turned into killing intent.

A prisoner wearing glasses took half a step forward, his voice trembling: "Really... can we really wound him? What if we accidentally..."

Luo Shang glanced at him; there was no expression in that look, but the prisoner's body visibly stiffened.

"He will not die."

A burly, broad-shouldered prisoner stood up abruptly, his chains clattering.

"Fine!"

"I'll do it!"

Luo Shang tilted his chin toward his adjutant.

The adjutant hesitated.

"Your Highness, by doing this, will the young master..."

"It is of no concern; this King knows his limits."

Seeing this, the adjutant sighed and stepped forward to unlock the chains of the nine prisoners one by one.

The sound of the chains hitting the floor echoed through the empty prison, clinking and clanging, as crisp as a funeral bell.

The soldiers took nine blades from the weapon rack and tossed them before the prisoners.

Those weapons were not divine artifacts, merely ordinary steel blades, yet they were more than enough to wound a child.

They picked up the weapons, their movements shifting from clumsy to practiced, the light in their eyes turning from fear to bloodlust.

Luo Shang stepped back, standing behind Luo Yun.

He patted Luo Yun on the shoulder, his voice very low.

"Go. You may not use soul power."

Luo Yun took a deep breath.

His hands were trembling slightly.

He was somewhat afraid; after all, he was still just a six-year-old child.

Facing nine grown men wielding weapons, men who would kill without blinking, he was still somewhat nervous.

He took a deep breath, steadied his mind, and clenched his right hand.

The Moon Eclipse Sword slowly manifested from his palm.

The purple-black blade shimmered with a cold, chilling light under the torchlight.

Luo Yun gripped the sword and walked forward.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

He stood before the nine prisoners, the Moon Eclipse Sword pointing diagonally toward the ground.

His back was straight as a rod, his chin tilted slightly upward, and the childishness on his face had largely receded under the flickering firelight, replaced by a composure that did not belong to a six-year-old.

An inexplicable chill welled up in the hearts of the nine prisoners, unbidden.

This child's eyes.

Is he really only six?