"Yes! Heads! The soldier took the business card from the young man with both hands, and then the two of them turned together and walked out.

"Oh, wait, you two just say hello to the Authority and ask the cook to make a bowl of instant noodles with eggs, hurry!"

Five minutes later.

"When I speak, you can listen, and you don't need to look up."

No. 982 didn't care about the electric shock of the baton, and simply buried his head and ate noodles with a fork.

"How? If you cooperate well, your life will be much better than that of your comrades who are still outside. Right? ”

Number 982 nodded.

The young man directly crossed Erlang's legs, leaned on the back of the chair very comfortably and said slowly: "I will be a lot more merciful than the guy in the previous round, as for how much mercy there is, this amount ......"

"Understood, understood." Number 982 has a mouth full of noodles and stumbles on both syllable words. He didn't want to go back to that quarry hell at all - no, he even regretted his "bony spine" just now......

No. 982 was a prisoner of war worker in Quarry B5 before he was found to be in contact with Ofer Mondrich and a group of nobles. At that time, he still had the full five-digit code: 02982.

However, this does not change his living conditions. The mortality rate is 8 percent, and the average body weight is reduced by 2 to 3 percent, which is the average result of the 1-3 months after the prisoner-of-war camps are stationed in the three major mines, quarries, brick kilns and other high-risk construction sites. To put it mildly, these prisoner-of-war camps are hell on earth.

If these prisoner-of-war camps are depicted realistically, then none of the hells known on earth - Shintoism, Buddhism, Goatism, etc., can be more brutal than the system in front of them.

The one with the little white hat, no, don't get me wrong, I'm not targeting you. I mean, all of you here are spicy chicken.

After all, these "hells" were born without advanced management concepts. For example, in addition to the flame cat phosphorus, which has a lower limit index for dragging corpses, and the old boatman who drove a boat on the Santu River has a superior assessment, which mythological system of hell has quantitative management, and the index is to the head?

Even a certain Western colleague who shouted that he wanted to settle the crime and go to hell to clean his body must have a complete list of crimes before putting people in the oil pot, right? Sorry, this feature is not available at this time. As for when the Nether and the Upper are synchronized? Rinpoche, Little White Hat, Father Love, and Guru Guru shook their heads in unison: I don't know.

I don't know.

However, for the poor boy who was impoverished and was charged into Elta's army, the developers from the other side of the portal still retain a drop of sympathy for the simple working people - why not use the materials that can be made? Facts have also proved that a large number of prisoners of war among the 400,000 defeated soldiers have provided a large number of effective human resources for Mendong City and even the New Elta Army after screening, and their loyalty is also solid.

But these gentlemen in front of them are different. The soldiers of the Bimoon Church are half of the atmosphere of ancient Rome, and the army has always been a prestige copy and ascent channel for the aristocracy and wealthy commoners, and there are really not many poor ghosts who come out of poor families to eat and drink or are forced into it.

On top of this, there is an even more unruly class of magicians. These pit stones, which are more rigid and practical than Confucianism, can they do nothing but allow them to move bricks in an orderly and efficient manner? Is it a courtesy? Not to mention the young man from China, he will not be replaced by an Elta.

Love to teach magic, leave it to the Elta Magic Association to study it well and then move bricks. Don't say a word? That's the loudest, so please go straight to the bricks.

It's okay, you can't be a hundred-year-old furniture material, but you can also be a five-year-old cutting board. What? You can't even do a cutting board, like the magician who can't dig coal? I'm sorry, but feel free to step into the paper mills and coking mills, and the long pain is better than the short pain - the inverted L-shaped pole at the entrance of the prisoner of war camps will never refuse the idea of someone wanting to hang on it.

No. 982 is not a poor boy from Elta, so naturally he is not qualified to receive any "probation education". Every day in the quarry, it takes a lot of effort just to keep yourself from dying in pain......

Here, only those who have completed the labor quota can have a limited amount of food. As for those who are so lazy that they have to call it a day during working hours, there is no punishment other than not having food to eat and accumulating their workload to the next day.

The food distribution and the measurement of the results of the work are all cold machines. After 982 climbed the hill and carried the rocks down the mountain, the first thing he faced was the weighbridge that he had weighed before going up the mountain.

Then all he had to do was press the little blue piece of plastic around his neck against the weighbridge until it made a "drop" sound. Repeatedly, until the amount of work that had to be done today was completed, he was able to use this small piece of plastic to get out of the quarry.

If you follow the rules, you will have three meals to eat every day to complete this set of work. But some of the restless and skilled prisoners of war still wanted to escape from the top of the mountain. Rock walls and thorns, as well as weeds and snakes with sharp leaves that dotted the hills, were not obstacles, and they thought they would have to face a barbed wire wall that looked like they could climb with three fists and two feet.

The negative textbook hung on it was soon brought back to the camp to teach a profound lesson to those who were being penalized for standing because of the lack of people in the queue.

Even so, people who tried to escape still existed.

Because the work standards set by the prisoner of war camp were "close to the limits of the individual physique of the Western Expeditionary Army". If the work is not done today because of fishing, then there is no food to eat. Even if you are sleeping and have nothing to consume, when you wake up the next day, you will have to face the reality that you can't finish today, and you have nothing to eat.

Only God has mercy, not here!

In the native concept of hell, even the evil ghosts at the bottom of the eighteenth layer have the hope of paying for their sins and being reincarnated as a human being. Here, however, the POWs of the Western Crusade did not even have the time and energy to find them hopelessly disappointed.

Can't get sick.

Can't be lazy.

Can't grind.

Otherwise you will die.

If you fall one day, you will fall the next day. The fall of the third, fourth, and fifth days is also very expected, and then what? It's the inevitable death! Well, it's only five years, but no one is sure they'll live to five years from now - just look at yourself as you get thinner.

Here, the original official position and status have lost their value, and the generals who have bowed down to him have no way to persuade the soldiers who are in the same room with him to help him carry even one more gram of stone for the sake of his big belly and prominent family. But don't forget, everyone is just a number here.

This is the same as the hell of the houses - the denial of mortal office. What is even worse is that the prisoners of war who came to the same camp were all disrupted as much as possible about their "place of origin", and the already weak ranks of official authority were severely damaged, almost becoming a pile of waste paper. What? Are you a general? Blow it to you! I'm still an archbishop!

The prisoners of war were responsible for all the sanitation of the quarters -- the "duty plan" of the managers was nothing more than a plan for the prisoners' dormitories, and it did not matter how it was carried out - when they died of illness, they soaked in formalin for a few days, sent to the rear medical school for specimens, and saved the need to hang them on L-shaped poles to be dried by manpower.

Even in such a hell on earth, people will not give up fighting each other. In Quarry B4, there were prisoners of war who were dissatisfied with their roommates and used their spare time to polish a whole piece of stone into a stone knife.

Then the stone knife happily cut open the trachea of his enemy. And then what? He also hung up street lamps.

Perhaps this kind of happy and vengeful death would be more in line with the temperament of a soldier - provided that he did not surrender.

The atmosphere in the POW camps was not "dire". On the contrary, the prisoner of war camps were filled with oppressive atmosphere. The prisoners of war walking on the mountain road accidentally slipped down the abyss, and the people behind them would not even look at it. No one has the ability to lay down the weight of his hand to pray for him - what is the canon? Can it be eaten as a day's meal, or can it be a day's stone back.

Two months in a prisoner of war camp no longer seem to have anything to do with it. No. 982 sucked up the last drop of soup in the noodle bowl, and then reluctantly let go of the noodle bowl and fork - here he could at least eat enough and live like a pig - in the prisoner of war camp he even had the luxury of being like a brute.

"Finished eating?" The smiling young man in front of him had been looking at him with contempt, but he was unconscious.

"Isn't it better to think about it here, or to keep knocking stones?"

The young man's Elta language is not standard, but the tone is very penetrating - making it impossible for 982 to ignore his presence.

"Very well, it looks like you've figured out where the sky is bluer." The other party took out the strange little white box and slid it twice to reveal a smile that looked a little more real. "Then let's get started."

"No. 982 is not as simple as 'just having a relationship with Ofer Mondridge'." On the way out of the interrogation room, the young man pointed out the details seemingly casually to the Elta police officer next to him. "You may be able to tell that he has a relationship with the Inquisition, but he apparently knew what kind of person the Superintendent was before he took office - not in general."

"What does that mean? Please advise, Comrade Mahan. ”

"Don't talk to me about comrade here...... Forget it, call it. Ma Han silently helped his forehead. When he went to the police academy, he was often teased because of this name as "taking a ship name to make a living", and before that, it was "Dynasty Mahan", and now there is nothing wrong with having a suffix.

"Ahem, this at least shows that these two people had a personal relationship before this. If you want to find out the personal information of Uffy Mondridge and thus analyze his character, this is undoubtedly the best way to start. ”

In retrospect, this profound knowledge was a little trick taught to him by a private detective who Mahan didn't know when he was on Earth......

"In the future, we may have to use him to reach out to Offe Mondridge and make him 'spoiled'...... Ah, forget it, I shouldn't have told you so much. Just listen, don't talk nonsense. ”