Mike doesn't know how long he's been in this damn dungeon, and thousands of years seem to come and go. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

For the proud Angolan knights, death may not be terrible, for them it is a life without freedom, a crushing defeat in the ring, the grief of losing a wife and a child, and the eve of the decay of the clan, but in general, the absence of freedom is no different from death.

Every day, he could only sit cross-legged somewhere, with his back against the wall, or sleep upside down, day and night. Whenever the jailer who was in charge of delivering food and water opened the door, what he longed for was not the bowl of spoiled, swill-like mushy lumps, but the glimmer of light that penetrated through the crack in the dungeon door, and sometimes he didn't even have time to open his eyes, and the light that brought the outside world was fleeting.

The straw on the floor was already filled with the smell of urine, completely different from the first day they entered, this dungeon had no light, no beds, no water, and naturally no convenient places. He vaguely remembered that the walls were earthy gray, revealing patches of sharp rubble, and that there was a door made of broken wood, as tall as his height, four feet thick, and covered with iron nails, all of which he had known in the fleeting light.

Sometimes, he had even believed the advice of the old servant Harwin. Alan Dalton is dead, either by arrows or hacked with knives, but he must be dead, the bald Sersi will never come back, he has found Kenny and concealed everything that happened here, the hairless imp can never be relied upon, and at first glance the boy is a cunning, who often lives in a flea cave and has no idea what his credibility is, and the Flame Priest has won, but he has forgotten about us, because this dungeon is too deep and too hidden.....

Harwyn then told him that no one dared to think about how deep the dungeon was in the deepest part of the castle, and no one knew how deep it was, because the lord who built it had died a thousand years ago, and he had hanged them all after the craftsmen had built it, so that no one would ever know the secrets buried in the castle, such as how deep the dungeon was.

After hearing all this, he began to miss everyone: Kenny, Lawrence, Nina, the tribal elders, little Marven who dozed off for a long time, but was always respectful to him, even the witches by the River Menu, the prophet Negar in the forest, Alan and Sersi, whom he had known since coming to the continent, and Steven, the little wizard who saved him from fire and water in times of crisis, they were all very friendly. In the end, however, he could only blame himself. "What a fool!" he shouted into the darkness, "you idiot, why don't you find out why the valley is on fire first!"

The sound made Halwin and the two little servants shiver in the corner, not knowing what the stranger was mad about.

Immediately after, Bill William's face emerged in the darkness. He was draped in his inky robes, his hair glossed by the minions, and his smile was mocking. "Actually, we can talk about it, Angolan knight....." he whispered. However, it seems like a thousand years have happened, Mike is now in Sumer, far away from the strife of the First Continent for a long time, and when Kenny handed Nina over to him, he swore that he would protect her to death, but it turned out ..... "!" He roared into the darkness again, his voice echoing through the closed fear, echoing, echoing, echoing, and finally disappearing.

A wave of sleepiness hits. There was no sun rising or moon setting, nothing could be seen, not even a mark on the wall, it made no difference whether he opened his eyes or closed his eyes, and sometimes he even felt that he had learned how to sleep with his eyes open, so he lay down along the wall, hoping to have a dream of a young man with a long river and a sunset.

But the truth is quite the opposite, every dream you have here is often filled with darkness, annoyance, blood, killing, cruelty..... When he woke up, he was even more terrifying, he had almost nothing to do except think and be in a daze, and then what he thought in his heart and what he saw in front of him became even more terrible than a nightmare.

Thinking of all this, he sat up again, trying to think of something happy, but after a while he fell asleep against the wall.....

"Shirtless rat, get out of here!" Mike awoke from a burning pain in his shoulder, unable to open his eyes from a burst of light, and a deep, deep curse in his ear, accented in the lingua franca characteristic of your. "You'd better fucking get up on your own! or I'll have someone skewer you up with an iron spear and carry you out!

After his eyes adjusted to the light a little, Mike saw a pot-bellied jailer standing in front of him. Because of the backlight, he could only see the black cloak and the chain that had struck him, and behind the man stood four knights in sword and armor, and next to them were six other knights, and Harwin and his two little servants who had been pressed to the ground by their hands behind their backs.

The fat jailer jerked his hand. "You patterned rat, don't you even understand the lingua franca?!" he waved the chain in his hand again, this time Mike deftly flashed, and the chain sparked a little against the wall, but as soon as he stood up, a cold saber pointed at him, no more than a fraction of a second from his nose.

"If you want to taste blood. The sword-wielding knight said coldly.

Mike looked at the knight in the iron helmet, and at first thought he was dreaming, because it had been too long since he had seen the light and had not heard a voice other than himself and Harwin. "How long has it been?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

The jailer was as fat as a wine barrel, with an ugly round face, a beard of uneven length, lined with an armor, and a black leather cloak that fell below the knees. "Prisoners do not have the right to ask questions. The fat jailer waved his hand, and the two knights immediately came forward and pushed him to the ground, put on heavy anklets and bracelets, and covered his head with a burlap bag.

Mike staggered and was pushed out, he wasn't afraid of where the group was going to take him, he didn't care if it was the execution ground for thousands of people, the interrogation room full of torture instruments, the gloomy and damp water prison. It doesn't get any darker than this, just don't come back here. He thought. Then he was pushed all the way forward, completely away from the urine and darkness of the dungeon.

After a certain distance, the fat jailer told him to turn, which he complied with. Next, he could feel them ascending the spiral stone steps, and judging by the sound of their steps, Halwin and his two little servants seemed to be ahead as well.

After climbing for a long time, the road began to become smooth, and then there was the sound of the door opening, and the road began to soften again, and he guessed that it was a muddy field, and there seemed to be countless sounds around him, and the sun shining on his back, and he could feel the slightest warmth. Then the path beneath their feet hardened again, and they seemed to be traversing a long corridor paved with bluestone, as the knight's iron boots testified.

Eventually, he was pushed into a door by a hand behind him, and two voices were arguing, one old and the other young.