Blood Moon Country, Broken Lake Prison, Dining Hall.
Ash stared at the Hibiscus Crab, Lemon Berry Milk Cake, Supreme Lala Fat, and Golden Pineapple Juice before him. His nose was filled with the aroma of exquisite dishes, but he could not summon the slightest appetite.
These dishes were anything but ordinary. They existed only on the Dining Hall's hidden menu; ordinarily, prisoners could not order them even if they spent Contribution Points.
It was said that these dishes were exceptionally high-end delicacies even outside the prison. Take this Supreme Lala Fat, for instance—its ingredients alone cost one-third of an ordinary person's monthly wage.
And their flavor was worth every bit of that price. Ash suspected the chef had used Spellcaster methods. As a city dweller hardened by MSG and chicken powder, he had nearly swallowed his tongue after the first bite. It was so delicious that one could die without regrets.
But when he thought about how he really was about to die, he lost his appetite.
The other Death Row Inmates in the same predicament felt much the same. Some took a bite here and there, some cried as they ate, and others used their knives and forks backward. Fortunately, the utensils were not sharpened, or they would have triggered the Neck Microchip's "Suicide Prohibition Warning."
Only two Death Row Inmates could eat normally and heartily. One was the blue-skinned Ogre, and the other was the Elf, Valkas.
Neither of them seemed to care about the coming Blood Moon Judgment. The Ogre ate with his hands, ordering one serving after another; Valkas demonstrated ten ways to use a knife and fork, moving with the elegance of someone dining in a revolving skyscraper restaurant.
"Having trouble eating? Do you need help?"
Warden Nagu's kindly voice was like a whip soaked in brine. It lashed every death row inmate into a shudder, and they all lowered their heads and wolfed down their food.
Even Ash was no exception.
The Death Row Inmates feared him so deeply because an afternoon of "supervision" had thoroughly ground down their spirit. Before Warden Nagu, who could control the microchips at the backs of their necks, even the most unruly prisoner had to behave—if you would not behave, he would hold your head down until you did.
Honestly, Nagu had not done anything excessive to them.
He had not even touched a hair on their heads.
He had not harmed them at all.
He had merely made every death row inmate follow his schedule.
For example, if someone refused to eat, Nagu would activate the microchip control system and use voice commands to make the prisoner eat:
"Open your mouth. Put the food into your mouth. Chew once, twice, three times. Swallow..."
For example, if someone refused to watch a film or fidgeted around, Nagu would turn him into a Model Cinema Audience member:
"Sit properly. Put both hands on your knees. Watch the large Light Screen. Remember to blink once every five seconds."
For example, when they were breathing fresh air on the Sea-Viewing Terrace, Nagu said his superiors required all prisoners to take commemorative photos and laid down the following requirements: neat attire, smiling faces, a good display of mental vigor, and Broken Lake Prison's harmonious group atmosphere...
Clearly, the Death Row Inmates could not meet those requirements on their own, so Nagu gave them a little "help."
Ash had it relatively easy. He merely lay on the ground, tilted his head, and smiled. Valkas, on the other hand, was impressive—he sat on the Ogre's shoulders, held both hands over his head like cat ears, and gave the camera a sweet smile with his gaunt, gloomy face.
And one photo was not enough. They had to take several, ranging from striking cool poses to hugging each other in flamboyantly affectionate ways. Every sort of spiritual demeanor was represented.
After Nagu arranged the Death Row Inmates into all sorts of poses, they went completely numb. They only wanted to meet Nagu's demands as quickly, efficiently, and cheaply as possible. Deep down, they even thought it would be better to Fast Forward straight to the Blood Moon Judgment.
Let it all end already. They were tired.
Therefore, the moment Nagu spoke, they immediately abandoned their tedious melancholy and hurriedly ate.
At that moment, Supervisor Nagu put them under more pressure than the Blood Moon Judgment.
After all, they had not yet seen "death."
But "a fate worse than death" stood right before them.
Ash glanced at the empty Dining Hall and quietly asked the person beside him, "Why is nobody coming to eat now? Fine, they skipped lunch, but surely the others wouldn't skip dinner too?"
The death row inmate beside him was named Archibald Harvey. He had dark skin and curly hair, and looked like someone who did heavy labor during the day. In reality, though, he worked the night shift as a Cleaner specializing in handling corpses.
Some might wonder how handling corpses could amount to more than desecration of a corpse. How could it lead to a death sentence?
Naturally, that had to do with the standard for death. In Blood Moon Country, only a body declared dead by a licensed Healer counted as a corpse.
Without a Healer's declaration, even if your head had fallen off, you were still legally alive.
That was because Healers really could revive people whose heads had fallen off. Many bodies had stopped breathing but could still be saved.
Thus, logistics workers like Harvey, who specialized in helping underground organizations dispose of bodies, naturally could not receive the generous treatment of being labeled an "accomplice." Instead, they were regarded as "serial killers of an exceptionally vile nature." He had handled over a hundred bodies. If every body was treated as a living person, few people in the entire Prison could compare to Harvey in terms of guilt.
Of course, that did not mean Harvey was some innocent good man.
Although he had not had much time to reveal his dirt during their afternoon chat, two facts were enough to judge that his sexual preferences were ahead of their time for modern humanity: he was a Spellcaster of the Necromancy Faction, and he had once said, "What's so good about warm women?"
But whether someone was bad had little to do with whether they were an enthusiastic online commenter. During that afternoon of shared misery, Ash quickly became familiar with him.
Harvey answered, "They came to the Dining Hall early and finished dinner before five."
"Huh? Why?"
"Because they want to avoid us. Other than the eight of us, every other prisoner will try not to leave the Dormitory today. Those with extra Contribution Points order food directly; those without extra points also try to avoid our mealtime."
"I know that, but why do they want to avoid us?"
"Traditional virtue."
Ash blinked.
It was not that he did not understand the phrase. It simply felt strange when used to describe the Death Row Inmates here.
Harvey said, "First, the chosen eight are summoned by the Supervisor to gather in the Dining Hall at noon, so nobody comes out all morning. Sure, the candidates are selected according to the order of the Judgment Sequence, but who knows whether you might run into a Supervisor on the way, and he decides your walking posture is too cocky and puts you on the Judgment list?"
"Does a Supervisor have that kind of authority?"
"I don't know. Would you dare bet on it?"
"No."
"Exactly." Harvey shrugged. "Although all eight people have been chosen after noon, nobody still dares wander around. The first reason is naturally still the existence of the Supervisor. What if he takes a dislike to you and swaps you with one of the lucky ones? Wouldn't you regret it until your veins burst?"
Ash nodded.
Indeed.
More infuriating than being unlucky yourself was seeing someone else profit from your misfortune. Just thinking about it made anger burn through one's stomach.
"The second reason is a little superstitious. The prisoners believe that anyone seen by unlucky bastards like us has a high chance of becoming a candidate for the next Blood Moon Judgment."
Understandable. Everyone feared catching bad luck. If an unlucky bastard looked at you in the afternoon and you could not shit at night, it definitely would not be a physical problem—it would be because the unlucky bastard had messed up gravity.
"And the third reason is that they don't know how to face us."
"Hm?"
"Greetings? Encouragement? Comfort?" Harvey wiped his mouth with a napkin. "If it were you... ah, no, Ash, you're the one facing Judgment now. At this very moment, if you saw other prisoners who had escaped the Blood Moon, wouldn't you feel that every punctuation mark they uttered was filled with condescending superiority?"
Ash opened his mouth, then thought about it. It was indeed true.
Since I know I'm about to die while you don't have to, I'd definitely feel that your entire body reeked of something utterly hateful.
It was not just about what they said.
Just seeing that you could still breathe.
Would make me feel like you were mocking me.
Encouragement? Sarcasm!
Comfort? Ridicule!
Pity? Contempt!
No matter what kind words they said, the eight of them would hear only insults.
Because of their fear of death, a pitifully thick wall had risen between the eight prisoners and every other prisoner.
"So, on the day of the Blood Moon Judgment, every prisoner voluntarily stays in the Dormitory and does not go out. It is both to protect themselves and to protect those facing Judgment."
Harvey looked at Ash. "If you survive, you must follow this traditional virtue when the next Blood Moon comes. It is the only kindness we can uphold, and the kindness we must uphold. But..."
"But what?"
"I read the news reports about you." Harvey shrugged. "Honestly, the person who dies tonight will most likely be you."
"Isn't one person selected at random to die?"
Ash grew nervous. When he learned that the Blood Moon Judgment chose one person out of eight for execution, he had guessed it must be a random Ritual—otherwise, there would be no need to choose one out of eight.
"It is random, but not entirely random. And sometimes several people die... You really haven't watched the Blood Moon Judgment?"
"I really haven't! I have no idea what the rules of the Blood Moon Judgment are!"
Harvey laughed. "Then you'll find out soon enough... The first time I watched the Blood Moon Judgment as a child, I was profoundly shocked by the program. I never imagined this world had such wonderful entertainment. I won't tell you the truth. The behavior Necromancers despise most is Prophecy. Exploring the unknown is a Spellcaster's greatest pleasure, and death is the greatest mystery."
Ash clicked his tongue, then asked in confusion, "If I'm definitely the one who dies, then why are you all nervous?"
Harvey shrugged. "Because the Blood Moon Judgment is not fixed. Sometimes changes occur that make the prisoners nervous, and they accidentally get themselves killed... You're right. Once I get there, I'll just close my eyes, lie down, and sleep. As long as I'm sure I won't be the one chosen from the eight, then I definitely won't die if I do nothing."
Harvey's words made Ash nervous even as he ate the Lala Fat.
No way. Am I really about to die?
Is there really no chance at all?
Void Realm Exploration had been going so smoothly. I even drew the Void Realm Telescope this morning. Maybe I could have gathered the Spell Spirits for Slay Self Miracle tonight...
Sword Maiden and I were both getting stronger, and the Spellcaster World had only just lifted its mysterious veil for me...
I had only just defeated Valkas and thwarted Xilin's scheme...
I'm still in the growth phase. Can't I have a little more time?
Ash was like a marksman saving money for a major item, only to suddenly be dragged into a team fight.
Victory was clearly in the distance, yet he was forced to fight by the miserable reality before his eyes.
He suddenly remembered a social media post his boss had once made: Life is not stir-frying. It will not wait until all the ingredients are ready before lighting the stove. When you see cumin sprinkled over you, you should realize you have become an ingredient—who could have guessed that the day after posting it, his boss would announce the entire company was switching from alternating weekends to a uniform 996 schedule?
"Dinner time is over. Wipe your mouths, go to the restroom to attend to your personal hygiene, and gather in the central hall within half an hour."
Take note: Supervisor Nagu was not "giving orders," but "inputting commands." Everyone wiped their mouths with napkins at the same time, then stood up and headed to the restroom in a clatter.
Before Ash entered the restroom, he heard Nagu's final instruction:
"Arrive at the Blood Moon venue at 7:45 sharp and wait for the program to begin."
Before you continue