The origins of prisons could be traced back to ancient times. The earliest prisons were cages or caves where primitive humans kept domesticated beasts. Once clan societies developed, these were used to imprison captives and force them to work. With the emergence of states, prisons also came into being as part of the machinery of government.
A few rays of the setting sun shone there, only to be swallowed by boundless darkness, failing to stir even a ripple on the crumbling mud walls. The place squatted in that remote corner like a coffin, low and oppressive. This was the Sky-Blasting Gang's prison, a place no one paid any attention to.
It was like a corner forgotten and despised by the world. A single wall separated the brightness outside from the rot and mold within—a stark irony.
The rocks around the prison building were white, and so were the tree trunks. They had been painted white to prevent prisoners from escaping, leaving them nowhere to hide even in the dead of night.
The walls surrounding the prison building were high, at least twenty meters tall, enclosing it even more tightly than Zhazi Cave. Vicious-looking barbs were faintly visible along the tops, preventing prisoners from climbing over.
It was already evening. Occasionally, thin threads of cold wind slipped through cracks in the walls, scraping out a mournful chorus of "Wooo... wooo..." They stirred the dust on the ground into the air, filling the entire dungeon. Mixed with the sour stench of decay and rot, they seeped into every prisoner's mind, bringing an inexplicable dread.
In the silence of dusk, a sudden clatter or a prisoner's defiant howl seemed to awaken wronged souls and vicious ghosts that had slumbered for years, piercing the eardrums. Only the darkness that seeped into your heart remained