The Elf Whose Small Mouth Was Smeared with Glycerin

Igula felt puzzled.

After Ash Hiss asked him a question so moronic it defied belief, he had suddenly fallen into deep contemplation.

But Ash was certainly no moron; Igula would never admit to being defeated by one.

"Have you already guessed the reason Valkas challenged you?"

Ash snapped out of his trance and asked tentatively, "Because of that child?"

Igula nodded.

"That's what I thought, too."

"Valkas has kept his head down in Prison for five years, almost never challenging anyone. He could live quite comfortably just by harvesting Contribution Points from those he didn't like."

"He suddenly jumped out this time for no other reason than that child. The fact that he was willing to risk ruin and imprisonment just to raise that child is proof enough of how much he values them."

"That child has long been receiving an education at the Nurturing Home. Many people have access to them, but there is only one 'key person' who would connect that child, Valkas, and you together."

"That person is Xilin Dor."

Meeting Igula's confident gaze, Ash felt a faint sense that this was a name he should know.

But the truth was, he simply didn't.

"Who is Xilin?"

Igula stared into Ash's eyes and said suddenly, "Don't move."

He reached out a finger and poked Ash's cheek. "Ask again."

"Who is Xilin?"

Igula paused for a moment, sighed, and pulled his hand back.

"Xilin Dor is a history professor at Kaimeng Comprehensive University and also the president of the Elf Racial Rights Association. He holds many, many titles, but those have nothing to do with you. What matters most to you is that he is the faculty advisor for the Ancient Artifact Research Society at Kaimeng Comprehensive University."

The Ancient Artifact Research Society?

Ash blinked, realizing a possibility.

"I used to be a member of the Ancient Artifact Research Society?"

"To be precise, you are still the president of the Ancient Artifact Research Society. Although I don't have any evidence, there must have been a relationship of interest between you and Xilin that went beyond that of a simple teacher and student."

The Four Pillar God Heresy!

Could Hiss have single-handedly bewitched so many heretics, using his personal charisma and leadership to establish the Four Pillar God Heresy, a criminal organization with gang-like characteristics?

It was possible, but it was far more likely that Hiss had accepted gifts and assistance from someone else!

Xilin Dor was very likely one of the helpers behind Hiss!

"I have already shown my sincerity, so are you willing to answer my question? Even though I have already guessed the answer."

Igula interrupted Ash's train of thought.

"If you've already guessed it, why ask me... go ahead."

"How exactly did you manage to deceive me with your inner voice? Last night in the ring, I used Listen To Heartfelt Voices to foresee your attack trajectory. I have almost never failed with this technique, because no one can lie to themselves."

Ash was slightly taken aback.

"What, you can listen to my inner voice?"

"Only in the ring can I hear the whispers of your heart through your turbulent emotions."

Igula offered an explanation. Generally, he would never say something that made him sound weak; he even preferred that others be suspicious and afraid of him because of it.

But for some reason, he felt that the tactic of bluffing wouldn't work on Ash, so he couldn't be bothered to pretend.

"I didn't use my inner voice to deceive you." Ash scratched his head. "I'm only just finding out now that you can cheat like that. No wonder I couldn't land a single punch on you earlier."

"Then how did you manage to think 'you're actually quite good-looking' in your heart while throwing a punch at my face?"

"Thinking you're good-looking and wanting to hit you aren't mutually exclusive!"

Igula couldn't help but add, "Generally speaking, I can hear the truest desires in a person's heart, so those superficial, fake thoughts cannot fool me. If you wanted to hit me, I would definitely have heard the thought 'I want to punch your face,' not the compliment 'you're actually quite good-looking.'"

"Oh, I think I get what you mean."

Ash tilted his head.

"I must have been spacing out at that moment."

"Spacing out?"

"Yeah, when I space out, my mind wanders. I was looking for some lewd pictures to feast my eyes on, so I genuinely thought you were good-looking."

"Then why did you suddenly hit me?"

"Because once I stopped spacing out, I got focused, so I naturally entered work mode immediately." Ash shrugged. "Lewd pictures only slow down my work speed."

It sounded reasonable, because he was spacing out, Igula misheard his inner voice—who would believe that!

A leader of the Four Pillar God Heresy, a genius martial artist who grew rapidly in combat—would someone like that space out during a fight?

Coupled with the fact that Ash had acted like he truly didn't know Xilin Dor earlier, Igula was more inclined to believe that Ash had mastered the technique of perfect self-disguise!

"Impossible. Even if I were distracted, I would definitely be able to hear your true inner voice!"

"Don't be so sure. Perhaps your ability is limited..."

"Since you say so, let me test it!"

Igula reached out and pressed his fingers against Ash Hiss's face. "I can tell if you're lying by the temperature changes in your face. Go ahead and say something true or false! If my ability is limited, I will certainly be able to distinguish the truth from the lie!"

Ash blinked.

"The sentence I am saying right now is a lie."

Igula froze.

Wait, is his statement true or false? If it's true, but he says he's lying, then it's a lie; if it's false, then it means the opposite, making the statement true...

The Matryoshka Logic churned Igula's mind into a mess. He sat blankly in the spectator seats like a broken doll, muttering about truths and lies.

Ash shrugged. He had encountered far too many Brain Teasers like this during job interviews. It seemed the children of this world had never seen such logic puzzles.

Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance of the Deathmatch Club.

"Oh, isn't this our dear Elf?"

"Ul Lord, this humble Orc offers you the most precious of blessings. Would you like me to lick your shoes?"

"Move aside, move aside! Don't dirty the young master Elf's clothes. You low-class races aren't worthy of getting within five steps of an Elf!"

Although the microchips prohibited prisoners from hurling Sarcastic Insults at others, that was all they did. The chips weren't intelligent enough to identify what constituted "sarcasm."

Ash was quite surprised that this group was so united in boycotting a single target.

It wasn't that he had high expectations for the intelligence or morality of Death Row Inmates, but here, you couldn't engage in physical conflict, nor could you engage in verbal bullying. You couldn't even touch a hair on the other person's head, so resorting to sarcasm was the absolute limit.

But in the adult world, this level of bullying was akin to a girlfriend playfully punching your chest—it was both pathetic and boring. Ordinary people should have grown tired of it quickly.

Since they hadn't, it could only mean one thing...

"Thank you all for your concern." Valkas bowed slightly, performing a very proper gesture. "You all speak so sweetly; you must have wiped your mouths thoroughly before leaving the washroom, right?"

"Valkas, are you calling us shit-eaters?"

"Not at all. I was just praising those who wipe their mouths well after eating shit. Why did you jump out yourself? Could it be that you eat shit too?"

"Val! Kas!"

"Oh, I'm here. Your breath is a bit foul; there's a hint of urine stench. It seems your diet is quite broad."

"Val—kas—"

"Hey, why are you so agitated? I wasn't scolding you. Speaking of which, I remember a joke: I once threw trash downstairs and accidentally hit a dog. The dog naturally started barking, wouldn't you agree? So, if you hear a dog barking while throwing trash, it must mean you hit a dog."

"Valkas—!"

"I didn't realize so many people wipe their mouths after using the toilet. I once heard a rumor that the prisoners in Broken Lake Prison eat shit and poop rice. I will definitely clarify for you all in the future that this is not a rumor."

Igula couldn't help but laugh.

"Such a marvelous war of words can only be seen in Broken Lake Prison."

Ash nodded. He completely understood why Valkas could suppress a dozen people with just his mouth—because swearing was forbidden. Once you tried to curse, the microchip would automatically block your throat, forcing your foul language to ferment in your stomach, effectively silencing you instantly.

That was why those people couldn't speak after shouting Valkas's name.

Yet, Valkas would turn his head at the sound to provoke them, making it look as if they were actively seeking abuse.

To bypass the chip's restrictions, knowing how to insult someone without using profanity, and knowing how to make someone lose their mind and get silenced by the chip, were the two essential elements of prison verbal warfare.

Clearly, Valkas's mouth was as slick as a laxative; the other Death Row Inmates were no match for him and were driven to such madness that they were silenced.

Some tried to resort to violence, but the chips immediately took over their motor functions, causing their bodies to stiffen and collapse to the ground with a thud.

"No need for formalities, stand down."

Valkas lifted his chin and stepped over them elegantly. Those who lost the verbal battle glared at him with eyes full of fire, but they couldn't curse and they couldn't fight, perfectly illustrating the meaning of impotent rage.

No wonder these prisoners hadn't grown tired of the sarcasm. With a poison-tongued expert like Valkas, the interactions were far too intense. They were likely going to spend the whole night in bed thinking about how to curse back.

"Ash Hiss?"

"Valkas Ur?"

Valkas looked at Ash from afar, his thin face returning to Apathy.

He pointed to the arena. "If there are no issues, let's begin."

The eyes of the Deathmatch Club gathered upon them—some expectant, some mocking, some curious, some crazed.

Igula glanced at Ash.

Now that Ash knew Valkas had a connection to Professor Shilin, there had to be something wrong with this deathmatch. If he were Ash, he would definitely refuse this fight—he never participated in battles where he lacked certainty.

"Sword Maiden?"

Igula was slightly startled. He heard Ash softly whisper a name. But no one here was named Sword Maiden, and Ash's gaze wasn't directed at anyone in particular.

"A bit lonely, isn't it..."

Ash murmured softly, then turned to look at Valkas.

For some reason, Igula couldn't help but remark, "Valkas is far stronger than I am; he isn't an opponent you can defeat with petty tricks. Furthermore, the destructive power of his sword is on another level. A single strike might be enough to decide the outcome."

"Thanks," Ash said with a smile. "I don't intend to use petty tricks this time."

"Then what will you use?"

"My life. I'm betting my life that his first strike won't kill me."

Watching Valkas stride toward the arena, Ash stood up as well.

"As long as that first strike doesn't kill me, the second one will be my chance."