The Eve of the Storm and the Last Act of Endurance

An ugly, dark red scab had formed over the wound on Lin Feng's forehead. The slightest movement of his facial muscles brought a prickling itch and a faint sting. The chill of being drenched naked in cold water seemed to have seeped into his bones. Even wrapped in the damp prison uniform, torn so badly it barely covered him, he still couldn't stop himself from shivering now and then. Every shiver seemed to remind him of that moment of utter humiliation the night before.

Daylight brought no warmth. The atmosphere in cell 107 had grown somewhat strange. Scar, Skinny Monkey, Iron Head and the others looked at him with less of their former unrestrained contempt and more scrutiny, along with the gloom of those who had been offended. Lin Feng's abyss-like gaze the night before had clearly left a thorn in their hearts.

But their wariness did not turn into kindness. Instead, it was brewing into a more dangerous storm. Like the dead calm before a downpour, it was stifling.

During exercise time, Lin Feng huddled in a corner as before, his head lowered, like a coward who had lashed out the night before only to retreat swiftly back into his shell. But only he knew how cold and focused his gaze was beneath his lowered eyelids. Part of his consciousness remained connected to the distant listening device.

The women's dormitory was much noisier during the day. Most of what came through the bug was footsteps, laughter and music from videos playing aloud. There was little useful information. But Lin Feng was in no hurry. He knew he already had the most important part. What he needed now was the final piece of the puzzle, or perhaps simply to wait-wait for a chance to turn that information into action.

But the danger inside the cell would not wait.

Scar felt his authority had been challenged. A "molester," a soft persimmon he could trample at will, had dared to resist and even look at him like that? That look had indeed been a little uncanny, but if he didn't completely crush the other man's defiance, how could he control the others in the future?

He stared at the figure curled up in the corner of the exercise yard, looking especially frail and lonely, and whispered a few words to Iron Head and Skinny Monkey beside him, his face dark.

Iron Head nodded with a muffled grunt, the slabs of flesh on his face quivering. An excited, vicious gleam appeared on Skinny Monkey's face as he nodded repeatedly. He looked at Lin Feng as though he were a toy about to be taken apart.

Exercise time ended, and the line was led back.

Just as Lin Feng lowered his head and followed the line toward the entrance to cell 107, Iron Head's massive body slammed into him, seemingly "by accident"!

The blow was heavy and caught him completely off guard. Lin Feng was knocked off balance and pitched headfirst forward!

Bang!

His forehead struck the cold, rough-edged frame of the iron door!

"Agh-!"

An uncontrollable groan of pain burst from Lin Feng's throat. The freshly scabbed wound split wide open in an instant. Warm blood gushed out, covering his left eye and streaming down his cheek and the bridge of his nose in a shocking sight!

The agonizing pain blackened his vision, and he nearly fainted.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going! You ran into me?" Iron Head cursed in a rough voice, the guilty party accusing his victim first.

Skinny Monkey immediately chimed in shrilly, "Yeah! Looking to die, are you? You even splashed blood on the door! Disgusting!"

The surrounding prisoners watched indifferently. No one spoke. The prison guard frowned, seemingly accustomed to such minor clashes, and merely urged them impatiently, "Get inside, quickly! Don't block the door!"

Lin Feng clutched his forehead, his fingers instantly stained red with blood. He staggered as he was shoved into the cell, blood dripping onto the concrete floor and leaving several dark red marks. He leaned against the cold wall, gasping heavily as he tried to ease the waves of dizziness and pain.

Scar was the last to stroll in. The iron door clanged shut behind him and was locked.

He walked up to Lin Feng and looked with a sinister gaze at the miserable sight of his blood-covered face. Then he glanced at the drops of blood on the floor, and his lips curled into a cold arc.

"You've made the place dirty again." His voice was quiet, but carried a suffocating pressure. "Looks like you really can't learn your lesson."

He looked around the cell, his gaze finally settling on a corner. There stood a red plastic bucket used for rinsing the mop. The water inside was black and murky, with suspicious clumps floating in it, and gave off an indescribable stench. It was the "cleaning water" used for the entire cell's toilet and floor.

Scar pointed his chin at the bucket and gave Skinny Monkey a look.

An intensely excited and vicious smile immediately spread across Skinny Monkey's face. He practically skipped over, picked up the bucket of foul-smelling wastewater, and carried it to Lin Feng.

"Scar says," Skinny Monkey said, his voice a little shrill with excitement, "your head's bleeding because you've got too much fire in you. We need to cool you down."

He held the bucket out, the surface of the black, stinking water almost touching Lin Feng's nose.

"Drink it." Skinny Monkey stared at Lin Feng's steadily bleeding forehead and his eyes, one covered in blood, the other fixed on him. He spoke each word distinctly. "Drink this bucket of water, and we'll call it even for today. Otherwise..." He gave a cold laugh, leaving the rest unspoken.

Drink the water used to rinse the mop?!

A wave of utter disgust and humiliation overwhelmed Lin Feng's stomach, and he nearly vomited on the spot!

This was no longer bullying. They meant to grind his dignity, his personhood, into powder and trample it into the filthiest quagmire in the world!

The surrounding prisoners held their breath. Some even took an unconscious half-step back, expressions of distress or fear on their faces. This was going too far.

Lin Feng's body shook violently with pain, anger and nausea. Blood kept seeping through his fingers and dripping down. Through a haze of red, the one eye he could still see with fixed in turn on Skinny Monkey's twisted, excited face and Iron Head's cold, overbearing figure before finally settling on Scar's expressionless face, the face that controlled everything.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

The air was taut as a fully drawn bowstring.

Lin Feng's chest heaved as two voices roared madly in his mind!

One voice screamed: Fight them! At worst, we all die together! Kill them!

The other voice reminded him coldly: Endure! You have to endure! The summoning is tonight! What you need is the power to sweep them all away, not a pointless sacrifice!

Drink? Or die?

Just as Skinny Monkey grew impatient and was about to force it down his throat-

Lin Feng moved suddenly!

He neither resisted nor obediently reached for the bucket. Instead, he jerked his head up and fixed Scar with the eye that wasn't covered in blood!

That gaze held neither the madness of before nor despair. It was an almost inhuman, icy calm, as though he were looking at something dead. The blood running down his forehead made that calm even more savage and frightening.

He stared at Scar like that for more than ten full seconds. His stare drove the thorn in Scar's heart deeper, even making him feel a flicker of inexplicable dread.

Then the corner of Lin Feng's mouth twitched upward, extremely slowly and in an extremely twisted manner.

It was not a smile. It was more chilling than any cry or display of anger. It was a kind of... mockery and promise, as if from hell itself.

He said nothing.

But that minute expression and icy gaze seemed to say a thousand words.

Scar's brows knitted tightly. For the first time, he sensed something real in this "weakling," something beyond his understanding. It was not an empty bluff. It was a kind of... icy madness.

Skinny Monkey was unnerved by Lin Feng's reaction too, his hands frozen in midair as he held the bucket.

In the end, Scar was the first to look away, seemingly unwilling to meet those eyes any longer. He waved a hand irritably, his voice somewhat dry. "...Forget it. There's blood all over the floor. Disgusting. Skinny Monkey, put the bucket down."

Skinny Monkey froze and looked at Scar in disbelief. "Scar? But..."

"I said forget it!" Scar suddenly raised his voice, a barely perceptible note of agitation in it. "Make him wipe up the blood on the floor! Then let him crawl back to his corner!"

Skinny Monkey didn't dare say anything more. He put the bucket of filthy water down in resentment, then found a rag and threw it at Lin Feng's feet, cursing as he did. "You hear that? Clean the floor!"

Slowly, very slowly, Lin Feng lowered his head. Without looking at anyone again, he silently picked up the dirty rag, crouched down, and began wiping up the blood he had spilled on the floor.

Every stroke seemed to press his boundless humiliation and hatred, bit by bit, deep into the darkest corner of his heart.

He had not drunk the water in that bucket.

But he had endured an insult even more extreme than drinking it.

He wiped slowly and carefully, until not a trace of blood could be seen on the floor.

Then he silently stood, walked back to the cold, foul-smelling corner that belonged to him, curled up, and buried his face in his knees. He did not move again.

An eerie silence fell over the cell. The prisoners looked at one another, none daring to speak loudly.

Scar sat on his bunk with a dark face, the inexplicable unease and irritation in his heart growing stronger. He kept feeling that something was about to happen.

Night deepened.

When darkness and snores had completely enveloped the cell, Lin Feng finally raised his head slowly from where he lay curled up.

The wound on his forehead was no longer bleeding heavily, but still throbbed faintly. His whole body was cold, but his heart was like a piece of iron that had been tempered in fire, cold and hard.

Through the link, he heard that Sun Tingting's dorm room seemed to have quieted down. An occasional mumbled phrase came through as someone talked in their sleep.

Enough. The information is enough.

He no longer needed the bug to confirm his hatred.

What he needed now was power.

His entire mind focused on the summoning interface deep in his consciousness, the one that was about to appear and decide his fate.

Time passed second by second, like an hourglass about to run out.

His breathing grew light and long. All his will, all his anticipation, all his hatred gathered into a soundless cry-

Come on!

Give me power!

Give me the power to tear all of this apart!

When midnight arrived on the dot and that cold, wonderful mechanical notification sounded in his mind once more-

[Ding! Daily Deathsworn Summoning has refreshed.]

[Summon now?]

Lin Feng summoned all the strength of his soul and gave his most resolute command:

"Summon!"

Streams of light rolled madly, and the wheel of fate spun wildly once more...

This time has to be different!

This time has to be the turning point!

He "stared" intently at the rapidly scrolling interface, awaiting the final judgment... or rather, the blessing.

A storm was brewing outside the window.

The venomous serpent of revenge raised its head and bared its ultimate fangs.