The Death Row Inmates' Traditional Virtues

Blood Moon Country, Broken Lake Prison, Dining Hall.

Ash looked at the Hibiscus Crab, Lemon Berry Milk Cake, Supreme Lala Fat, and Golden Pineapple Juice before him. The air was thick with the aroma of delicacies, yet he couldn't muster a shred of appetite.

These dishes were no simple fare; they existed only on the dining hall's hidden menu, unavailable even to prisoners willing to spend their Contribution Points.

It was said that these dishes were considered rare, high-end delicacies in the outside world. The Supreme Lala Fat alone cost a third of an average person's monthly salary in raw ingredients.

Their taste was worth every penny. Ash suspected the chef had employed the methods of a Spellcaster; as a city dweller accustomed to MSG and chicken powder, he had nearly swallowed his own tongue after the first bite. It was so delicious it made one feel they could die without regrets.

But the moment he remembered he was actually going to die soon, his appetite vanished.

The other death row inmates sharing his plight felt much the same. Some picked at their food, others wept while they ate, and some even turned their cutlery upside down—thankfully, the utensils weren't sharpened, or they would have triggered the "Suicide Prohibition Warning" on their neck microchips.

Only two death row inmates were eating normally, mouthful after mouthful: the blue-skinned Ogre and the Elf, Valkas.

The two of them seemed truly unbothered by the upcoming Blood Moon Judgment. The Ogre ate with his bare hands, ordering one portion after another, while Valkas demonstrated ten different ways to use a knife and fork, as elegant as if he were dining in a revolving restaurant atop a skyscraper.

"Having trouble eating? Do you need some help?"

Warden Nagu's cordial voice was like a whip soaked in brine, instantly jolting every death row inmate into bowing their heads and shoveling food into their mouths.

Even Ash was no exception.

The reason the death row inmates were so terrified was that an entire afternoon of "supervision" had completely crushed their spirits. Faced with Warden Nagu, who could control the microchips in their necks, even the most rebellious had to behave—if you didn't behave, you would be held down and forced to.

To be honest, Nagu hadn't done anything excessive to them.

He hadn't even touched a single hair on their heads.

He hadn't harmed them at all.

He simply made all the death row inmates follow his schedule.

Take eating, for example. If someone refused to eat, Nagu would activate the microchip control system, using voice commands to guide the prisoner:

"Open your mouth, put the food in, chew once, twice, three times, swallow..."

Take watching videos. If someone refused to watch or fidgeted, Nagu would turn them into a Model Cinema Audience:

"Sit up straight, hands on your knees, look at the light screen, and remember to blink every five seconds."

Or when they were breathing fresh air on the Sea-Viewing Terrace, Nagu said that his superiors required all prisoners to take a commemorative photo, with the following requirements: neat attire, smiling faces, a display of good morale, and the harmonious group atmosphere of Broken Lake Prison...

Undoubtedly, the death row inmates alone couldn't meet these requirements, so Nagu "helped" them out a little.

Ash had it easy; he just had to lie on the ground and tilt his head to show a smile. But Valkas had it rough—he sat on the Ogre's shoulders, hands held up to his head to mimic cat ears, his gaunt, cold face wearing a sweet smile for the camera.

And one photo wasn't enough; they had to take many, ranging from cool and edgy poses to hugging each other in a bizarrely intimate fashion, covering every possible display of "morale."

The death row inmates, posed in eighteen different ways by Nagu, were completely numb. They only wanted to satisfy Nagu's requirements as quickly and efficiently as possible, even feeling that it would be better to just fast forward to the Blood Moon Judgment.

Just destroy me already, hurry up, I'm tired.

Therefore, the moment Nagu spoke, they immediately abandoned their tedious self-pity and focused on their meal.

In this moment, the pressure exerted by the Supervisor, Nagu, surpassed that of the Blood Moon Judgment.

After all, they hadn't seen "death" yet.

But "a fate worse than death" was right before their eyes.

Ash glanced at the empty dining hall and whispered to the person beside him, "Why is no one else coming to eat? Skipping lunch is one thing, but surely they aren't all skipping dinner too?"

The death row inmate beside him was named Archibald Harvey. He had dark skin and curly hair, looking like someone who did heavy labor during the day, but in reality, he worked the night shift: a Cleaner who specialized in disposing of corpses.

Some might wonder, disposing of corpses is at most a crime of desecrating a body, so how did he end up on death row?

This naturally had to do with the standards of death: in the Blood Moon Country, only a corpse declared dead by a licensed Healer was considered a corpse.

Without a Healer's declaration, even if your head was severed, you were still legally a living person.

Because Healers could truly resurrect those who had been decapitated, many corpses that had stopped breathing could still be saved.

Thus, logistics personnel like Harvey, who helped underground organizations dispose of bodies, naturally didn't get the "accomplice" treatment; instead, he was viewed as a "serial killer of extremely heinous nature." He had processed hundreds of bodies. If every corpse were treated as a living person, few in the prison could match Harvey's sins.

However, this didn't mean Harvey was some innocent, wronged soul.

Although he hadn't revealed much of his dark history during their afternoon chat, the fact that he was a Necromancy Faction spellcaster and had remarked, "What's so good about a warm woman?" was enough to judge that his fetishes were far ahead of his time for the current human race.

But whether a person was bad or not had nothing to do with being a helpful conversationalist. In this afternoon of shared misery, Ash had quickly gotten to know him.

Harvey replied, "They came to the dining hall to eat before 5 o'clock."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because they want to avoid us. Aside from the eight of us, the other prisoners will try their best not to leave their dormitories today. Those with extra Contribution Points order their meals directly, and those without try to avoid our dining hours."

"I know that, but why avoid us?"

"A traditional virtue."

Ash blinked.

It wasn't that he didn't understand the term, but using it to describe the death row inmates here felt strange.

Harvey said, "First, the eight selected are summoned to the dining hall by the Supervisor at noon, so no one comes out all morning. Although the selection is based on the Judgment Sequence, who knows if you might run into the Supervisor on the way, and he decides your walking posture is too arrogant and puts you on the list?"

"The Supervisor has that kind of power?"

"I don't know. Do you dare to bet on it?"

"I don't."

"There you have it." Harvey shrugged. "Even though all eight people were selected after noon, no one dared to wander around. The first reason, naturally, is the presence of the Supervisor. If the Supervisor happens to dislike you and swaps you with one of the lucky ones, wouldn't you regret it until your veins burst?"

Ash nodded.

Indeed.

Nothing was more infuriating than seeing others profit from your own misfortune; just thinking about it was enough to make one's stomach burn with rage.

"The second reason is a bit superstitious. The prisoners believe that anyone seen by us unlucky devils has a high probability of becoming the next candidate for the Blood Moon Judgment."

That was understandable. Everyone feared catching bad luck. If a wretch glanced at you in the afternoon, and you couldn't pass a stool at night, it certainly wouldn't be a physical issue—it would be the wretch causing a gravitational anomaly.

"And the third reason is that they simply don't know how to face us."

"Hm?"

"Greetings? Encouragement? Comfort?" Harvey wiped his mouth with a napkin. "If it were you... ah, wait, Ash, you are the one accepting the judgment now. If you saw other prisoners who escaped the Blood Moon at this very moment, wouldn't you feel that every punctuation mark they uttered was dripping with condescending superiority?"

Ash opened his mouth, thought about it, and realized it was true.

Since I know I'm about to die and you don't have to, I would certainly feel that your entire being reeked of a disgusting, rotten stench.

It wasn't just about what was said.

The mere sight of you still being able to breathe.

Was enough to make me feel like you were mocking me.

Encouragement? Sarcasm!

Comfort? Ridicule!

Pity? Contempt!

No matter what kind words they spoke, to Ash and the other seven, they all sounded like profanities.

Because of the fear of death, a pathetic, thick barrier had emerged between the eight prisoners and everyone else.

"So, on the day of the Blood Moon Judgment, all prisoners consciously stay in their Dormitory and don't go out. It's to protect themselves, and also to protect those undergoing judgment."

Harvey looked at Ash. "If you survive, you must uphold this traditional virtue when the next Blood Moon arrives. It is the only kindness we can—and must—insist upon. However..."

"However what?"

"I've read the news reports about you." Harvey shrugged. "Honestly, the person who dies tonight is very likely to be you."

"Isn't it a random kill?"

Ash felt a bit nervous. When he learned that the Blood Moon Judgment was a one-in-eight death lottery, he guessed it must be a random ritual—if it weren't random, there would be no need to pick one out of eight.

"It is random, but not that random, and sometimes several people die... Have you really never watched the Blood Moon Judgment?"

"I really haven't! I have no idea what the rules of the Blood Moon Judgment are!"

Harvey smiled. "Then you'll find out in a moment... When I was a child and watched it for the first time, I was deeply shocked by the program. I never imagined there could be such wonderful entertainment in this world. I won't tell you the truth. The behavior a Necromancer despises most is prophecy; exploring the unknown is the most delightful enjoyment for a spellcaster, and death is the greatest mystery."

Ash clicked his tongue, feeling a bit confused. "Since it's certain that I'll die, why are you all so nervous?"

Harvey shrugged. "Because the Blood Moon Judgment isn't fixed. Sometimes changes occur, causing prisoners to get nervous and accidentally kill themselves... You're right, once I get to the scene, I'll just close my eyes and lie down to sleep. As long as I'm sure I won't be the one picked out of the eight, I definitely won't die if I do nothing."

Harvey's words made Ash feel so tense that even eating his Lala Fat felt stressful.

No way, am I really done for?

Is there really no chance at all?

My Void Realm Exploration had been going so smoothly; I even pulled the Void Realm Telescope this morning. I might have been able to collect the Spell Spirits for the Slay Self Miracle tonight...

The Sword Maiden and I were getting stronger, and the world of spellcasters had only just unveiled its mysterious veil to me...

I had just defeated Valkas and thwarted Xilin's conspiracy...

I'm still in my growth phase! Can't you give me a little more time!

Ash felt like an ADC who was saving up for a core item, only to be suddenly dragged into a team fight.

He could see victory in the distance, yet he was being held back and beaten by the drudgery right in front of him.

He suddenly recalled a social media post his old boss once made: Life isn't like stir-frying; it won't wait for all the ingredients to be ready before you start the fire. When you see that you've been sprinkled with cumin, you should realize you've become the ingredient—who could have guessed that the day after he posted that, he announced the entire company would switch from a flexible schedule to a 996 work week?

"Dinner time is over. Wipe your mouths, go to the Restroom to handle personal hygiene, and gather in the Central Hall within half an hour."

Note that the Supervisor, Nagu, wasn't "ordering"—he was "inputting commands." Everyone wiped their mouths with their napkins at the exact same time, then stood up one after another to head to the toilets.

As Ash walked toward the Restroom, he heard Nagu's final instruction:

"7:45, arrive at the Blood Moon site on time to wait for the program to begin."