Nango.

"I can make the pain go away, I can make all the hurt and pain stop. You can be whole again, but why don't you want to believe me?"

The words crackled through the underground corridors of Blackcastle, echoing in the solidified slime on the filthy walls. Somewhere in the darkness, a madman began to giggle, his chains clanging against the bricks of his cell.

Zheng Hongchang closed his eyes tightly, trying to suppress tears. Han Cheng's men had been torturing him, cutting through his sick flesh with hot tongs, scalding his skin with piping hot oil, and piercing his fingers with copper nails. Somehow, he remained silent the whole time.

Or at least give these lunatics something better than unclear screams.

Now, however, Han Sung has shown him a new kind of torture. The torment of hope. Give the promise of life to a person who has resigned himself to fate.

Zheng Hongchang was tied to a table, his fleshy body held in place by a long belt. He only had to lift his neck to see the terrible damage inflicted on him by the envoys, his legs turning to bright flesh where they should have been, and his chest to red wreckage. He could also see the man who had promised to undo everything he had suffered. Not only that, but he also promised to do the impossible. Deliver him from the plague.

When you're ready to die, it's easy to be brave. How miserable you are to die when you get a miraculous chance to survive and deceive Hades when he reaches out his scrawny hand to grab you.

Carl Fry, a scarecrow, his face stiff and angular under his bushy beard, his eyes glittering with a basilisk. He wore a luxurious silk robe embroidered with mystical symbols, and the exotic silhouette added to the exoticism.

Smiling moons and swirling stars, writhing dragons and blazing phoenixes, coiled snakes and roaring lions. Frye was Xiao Guang's favorite warlock, and he was notorious among the peasants of Nanyu and the common people everywhere. Black spells are something to be avoided, and their practitioners are reviled and destroyed. Such warlocks are lowly, inferior humans who plunder innocent people to summon elementals and demons, sacrificing the helpless to make evil pacts with the forces of destruction.

However, Frye promised that his magic could create something so wonderful that it surpassed even the priestess of the Temple of Life. He promised that his spell would drive the plague away from Zheng Hongchang's body.

"Maybe you doubt my magic," Frye said, his strange voice oozing a hint of injury. He rubbed his arm and threw back the large sleeves of his robe. "Please let me demonstrate. Then you will believe that what I say is true, and you will know that you can believe my mantras and my words. ”

As the Warlock cast his spell, the cold air in the dungeon became incredibly cold. Zheng Hongchang could feel the tears freeze on his eyelids and could hear the blood congealing on his skin. His ears echoed with a sinister singing incantation rolling out of Fry's mouth.

Then, under his surprised gaze, Zheng Hongchang saw that the adenoma on the armpit of his arm was getting smaller and smaller. His skin faded, and his flesh became smooth and unmarked, glowing with a flush of health and strength.

"I can cure you," Frye assured. "And you just have to tell the general everything he wants to know. Then I will put out the pestilence. And I'll heal all your wounds. You will be free. You're going to get out of here. Frye's hand brushed over the blackened, oozing stain on Zheng Hongchang's right foot that had been trampled on by an iron boot.

Zheng Hongchang's eyes rolled, and a pitiful scream of pain came out of his mouth. He's not going to break down, he's going to stay strong. He credits all this to all the marchers he brought to the Southern Palace, who were sacrificed because he naively thought that the Emperor was a reasonable person. He must protect others who are committed to their great cause and fight to overthrow the tyrant.

Against his will, he looked at the place that had been purified by the warlock's magic. Zheng Hongchang's determination was shattered. Before he knew it, the words were spurting out of his mouth. He tried to stop himself, but he knew he couldn't win by doing so. The part he was willing to die for the cause was too small compared to the part he wanted to live. He heard his own voice speak to the lurking envoy about Lady Arcadia and her cellar, and he cursed himself for being a traitor, ashamed of what he had done.

Han Sung's wicked laughter told Zheng Hongchang that he had confessed enough. Han Cheng stepped out of the shadows, the light of victory illuminating his cruel face. "That's what I'm asking for, Warlock,"

Frye wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his coat. "That's good," he said. "It's hard work to maintain this technique." As he spoke, the atmosphere in the dungeon warmed up noticeably. Zheng Hongchang could feel the change in the air, and a nameless fear that crept up his skin lessened.

Instead, pain and fear, burning pain spread outward from his chest. Zheng Hongchang stretched his neck and could see that when the warlock's illusion was broken, the wound on his chest came out again. When he heard Han Cheng roaring and giving orders to the secret envoy, he realized that he had been deceived.

He's a fool.

When Marquis Suosi spoke again about his daughter's imminent marriage to Han Cheng, Feng Yang listened with more and more disgust. Despite his efforts, he could not accept the shameful sacrifice of that woman. He could easily have thought of the danger of torture and death, even the shame. But is it such an inappropriate thing as using a woman's virtues just to know the secrets of the enemy? It tarnished the entire cause, robbed them of their noble goals, and dragged it into the mud.

Lady Arcadia noticed the uneasiness of the wind. She broke free from the conversation and walked slowly to where he stood, leaning against the wall of the curtain in the living room. "Does that upset you?"

Feng Yang nodded, her eyes fixed on the chair where Princess Irena was sitting. She did not participate in the conversation, and only asked the Marquis of Sosi to explain the arrangements that had been made and the wedding vows exchanged. No, he corrected himself and said. The word content is too cold. One look at the princess shows that she doesn't care about her fate. Resigned to fate, she fully understands this terrible fate.

"How could Prince Gallo Vecchio and the others really allow this to happen?" Feng Yang asked. "What will happen to her?"

"If all goes well, she will be a widow before the summer." Lady Arcadia prophesied.

Feng Yang tightened his jaw. "But everybody will know. She'll still have his stench on her. ”

Lady Arcadia glared at Feng Yang curiously. "If I hadn't known you better, I'd still say you're jealous. Perhaps her willingness to do so aroused her chivalric passion. Maybe you can sense a like-minded person, someone who is willing to sacrifice personal honor for the benefit of those who will never thank her, even those she doesn't know. ”

Feng Yang turned away, drew the heavy curtains, and looked out at the street through the frosted glass. "I don't know when Karid will be back." Then Feng Yang changed the topic very stiffly. "If we know where he is, we can make a plan based on that."

"What are your plans?" Mrs. Arcadia asked, putting her hand on Feng Yang's arm. "I mean after being overthrown. After Xiao Guang was deposed. ”

Hearing this, Feng Yang frowned in confusion. This was something he had never considered before. "I guess it's to rebuild the Forbidden Army, try to get everything back to the way it was." His body stiffened suddenly, and his eyes were fixed on a dark figure he had caught glimpsing in the street. He glanced at the man, and he hid in a corner, but he was sure that the man was wearing the uniform of an envoy.

Just as he was about to turn around to warn the other conspirators, Lady Arcadia's manservant rushed down from the attic. "Emissary!" Gustav gasped.

"What?" Prince Gallo Vecchio shouted. "Where? How many?"

"On the street, Your Highness." The servant said anxiously. "At least twenty people are surrounding here!"

"They must know we're here!" Karad roared, and everyone lost their composure, leaving only fear. "We have been betrayed!" He screamed, glancing reproachfully at everyone in the room.

"That can't be." Marquis Sosi complained. "Everyone who knows about this meeting is here!"

"Grand Imam Hartleford didn't."

"Zheng Hongchang also knows this place, he is too sick to come, but as the leader of the marchers, I think he should know." Sure enough, the announcement immediately sparked a wave of angry recrimits.

"It doesn't matter who told them!" Feng Yang shouted, trying to silence the other people's voices. "It's important that we get out of here before they pull the noose." After he closed the curtains by the window, a disturbing thought occurred to him.

"You said you only saw twenty people? That's not enough people to break into here. Han Cheng may be a deranged lunatic, but he is not a fool. ”

"What are you thinking?" Prince Gallo Veitch asked.

Feng Yang ran to the kitchen and the stairs leading to the basement. "If he finds out about the house, he probably finds out about the cellar too! The people on the street were just trying to keep us inside! The real attack is coming from below! They're going to trap us with our own tunnels!"