It turned out that the floor that was not covered by anything was even colder and harder—Ge Lan was even a little moved when she opened the thin layer of straw.

The cell was small, and Ge Lan remembered waking up with a brazier outside the cell door—the key that Qi Zuo might have secretly hidden when he crouched down to question him.

At this time, there was no one outside the prison door, and Ge Lan prostrated on the ground unscrupulously, pulling away the straw inch by inch, searching for the one that saved his life.

Along the wall facing the cell door, Ge Lan searched from one end to the other, then retreated two feet and searched back from the other. In fact, he could have been bold, and estimated the place where the person was lying, and he could find it by rummaging through the vicinity—but in order to be stable, through Ge Lan's precise investigation, the key was found about two feet and three inches from the wall, centered to the right: an iron ring, with a small iron rod on it, was as black as the stone slab on the ground, and could reflect a little light.

Unitary time. The devil knows when it's unitary time. Through the small prison window, Ge Lan could at most make out that it was daytime, and the ghost knew what time it was.

Sooner rather than later, sooner rather than later. The truth is always this truth, you can wait if you go early, and you can only wait for death if you go late. Ge Lan took the key, looked at the doorway, and put his hands through the railing, his right hand fixed the lock, and his left hand poked the key into the keyhole.

It's easy to do, but it's really easy to do...... It's not difficult, but Ge Lan is a person who wants to escape from prison, and he is panicked, and the key in his left hand attacks the keyhole again and again, but he is turned away again and again. What he didn't expect was that the iron chain between the handcuffs and the iron railing of the cell door could make such a loud sound, and the more anxious Ge Lan was to poke the key into the lock hole, the more his hands moved, the more urgent and annoying the sound of metal collision became.

Glenn took a deep breath and grabbed the chain in his mouth, he tried to use only his teeth, and he tried to retract his tongue and lips back, but the smell of rust and other things, I don't know what it was, was faithfully reflected in his mouth, and it tasted like blood—the smell of rust is often used as a metaphor for blood, but perhaps the other way around is more appropriate, and it is clear that there are far fewer people who have actually tasted rust than blood.

Without the annoying sound, Glenn's hand steadied down, and he gently held on to the key, using a directionless, malicious, and inclusive force, like an avant-garde parent supporting their adolescent son, and the key did not succumb to Gran's strength, but followed the path that belonged to him, inserted it into the keyhole, and twisted it lovingly—click!

It turns out that the keyhole is not horizontal, not even crooked, but the whole slope downward, and no one can say whether it is deliberately or really shoddy to a new situation.

Out of the prison door, the place where Ge Lan was located was like a small hall, surrounded by a few tables and chairs in the middle, and there were black cells on three sides, I don't know if the people of Longqiao were simple and simple, the townspeople kept to themselves, or the arsonist enjoyed special treatment: these more than a dozen cells, large and small, had no residents, black and empty, like a hungry beast with sharp teeth and sharp mouth, revealing the empty esophagus and stomach pouch, but the grudge was terrifying.

The remaining side was the entrance to the corridor, and Ge Lan felt the wall and walked in, his handcuffs hanging on the rough stone wall. He retracted his hand as if he had been electrocuted, and the sound echoed through the closed corridor, so afraid that he did not dare to take a step.

The echo finally stopped, and Ge Lan cautiously took a step, her hands hanging peacefully between her hips, holding the extra chain in her hands, no longer giving it a chance to speak.

Ge Lan walked alone in such a quiet world, and the torches on the wall illuminated many shadows for him, and also added patches of orange-yellow warmth to the blue-gray cold stone wall. The quiet years did not last long, and soon, the echo of the iron boots took over the corridor again. The pace was so hurried that Ge Lan couldn't hear how many people there were—not because they were too Qi, but because they were too chaotic, mixed in the echo, and they couldn't tell if there were five or six to more than ten people.

Glenn didn't know whether to sneak more carefully or simply run as fast as he could—run!, the reckless man's nature told him.

The first section of the road was not as long as he remembered, and it had only been a little over a minute for Ge Lan to run, and the two ladders had already been revealed in front of him.

Glenn slowed his pace, gasping for breath, and the sound of iron boots hitting the ground came back to his ears again—very close, coming from below. He leaned against the base of the wall, and showed half of his eyes down the stairs—

- Catching the gaze of the leading guard. Ochre and ironclad are scattered and unformed, but they are also a full ten people.

Ge Lan's reaction was quicker, he slammed the wall to borrow his strength, and then turned and started, without thinking too much, and ran straight to the upper floor.

"Catch him!"

The leading guards shouted, bringing echoes in all directions, and the sound of iron boots became even more chaotic, and for a while, it seemed like there were thousands of troops and horses, coming towards Ge Lan.

Ge Lan didn't have time to turn back, didn't have time to turn, he only cared about rushing forward, and the upward stairway was also vigorous, although a small flat land should be set aside for left and right passage on each floor, but on the whole it was integrated and completed in one go. Ge Lan's hands were connected to iron chains, and she couldn't shake them off, so she was in front of her chest, swinging from side to side with her body, like a girl who had been insulted and stripped of her clothes. Rao is so, and his speed is much faster than the armor-clad guards.

When Ge Lan finally blocked his way by a locked gate, the pursuers had been thrown two steps away.

The gate is made of pine wood and painted black, so you can feel the thickness when you shoot it. The door was bolted from the other side, and Ge Lan first pushed, then hit, and finally kicked with his foot, but the black wooden door still didn't move.

"Stop!"—maybe the guards had been shouting, but only then Ge Lan heard it, and the sound of his heartbeat and breathing blinded his ears, like the wooden door in front of him blinded his hands and eyes.

Only then did he remember that he not only had the wooden door in front of him, but also the pursuers behind him.

Ge Lan, who had been entangled with the wooden door for a long time, turned around, and the guards who rushed to the front were only less than five or six steps away from him.

"Aren't I standing!" Seeing that the earth-red clothed Yaksha was about to pounce on him, Ge Lan roared angrily, and took advantage of the terrain to kick the guard who hit the head.

The guard dodged to the right, and the kick landed right on his shoulder socket, and the forward body lost its balance and fell backwards. The passage of the staircase is slightly narrower than the horizontal corridor, one person is too wide, two people are too crowded, the guards have to run hand and foot, they can only line up into a long snake, the head of the snake falls, and the back must be blocked. I saw that the guard who hit the head rolled down the slope of the ladder and smashed into the hand of the second one overlapping in front of his forehead, and the guards in front of him supported the back one by one, and it was barely stable until the fifth, and he was hit by the partner behind him with a muffled snort.

Ge Lan held on to the door frame, barely holding on to this foot, and was about to flee to the fork in the road on the left.

With the clatter of a latch, a thin hand wrapped in shiny silk dragged him through the door.