It wasn’t quite a lie to call it strained.

To Yu Feichen, as long as he was still clear-headed, nothing could be considered a serious injury.

Furthermore, he had already arrived at the outcome of his plan.
A group of people could only carry out a coordinated movement if there appeared a leader.
He had to convince the Koroshan prisoners to trust him.

But this didn’t mean that he was willing to let others know the fact that he was practically half-crippled now.

The chief warden unlocked the brass lock with a key.
He said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Captain, as you may.”

Finally placing someone he hated behind bars, his smile was like that of a spotted snake rearing its head, hissing.
But the captain named Anfield didn’t even spare him a glance.

The young senior officer, carrying a glass oil lamp in his right hand, unhurriedly walked into the cell.
The ends of his platinum blonde long hair were slightly curled, glistening slightly under the light.

The warm yellow light also illuminated the entire cell.

There was a heavy creak as the chief warden locked the gate.
“I hope that you successfully find the Koroshan mongrels’ secret passage in your dreams.
Of course, it doesn’t matter if you don’t find it.
We’ll devise a better way to discipline these uncivilised traitors tomorrow.”

With that, he walked away, leaving behind the two men to stand guard here, alongside Anfield’s personal soldiers to add up to a total of four guards.
Despite similarly being part of the Black Badge Army, Oak Valley Concentration Camp did not appear to trust Anfield.

The moment Anfield walked into the cell, Yu Feichen’s right hand moved to his left elbow joint.
The five fingers clamped tight and tugged firmly.

The expected pain engulfed excruciatingly, spreading from his joints, but he forcibly endured it, not letting the slightest grunt past his lips.

The intense pain brought with it a startling clarity of mind.
He took a few gentle breaths, humidity brushing his forehead slightly damp with sweat.

After two days had passed, the hairstyle of this lawyer had long since failed to maintain that well-kept and regal appearance.
The loose curls of dark chestnut hair that hung down, grazing the sharp ends of his eyebrows, and the hostility in his eyes from the self-inflicted pain to his arm that had yet to fade, gave his entire person an untamed, wild look, a far cry from the lawyer he once was.

After affirming that he had regained some mobility in his left arm, Yu Feichen raised his head to see Anfield sitting cross-legged and expressionless on a stained straw mat a short distance from him.
Apart from his spot, there wasn’t a square centimetre of ground in this cell that was clean.
However, the senior official didn’t seem to mind.

He extinguished the oil lamp.
The cell once again was submerged in stillness.

Yu Feichen closed his eyes and intended to rest as well.
He had expended too much energy in the day and later still had to go outside at midnight, so he had to seize every last second to recover his energy.

But he didn’t sleep.
He never did.

This was because ten minutes after he closed his eyes, that senior officer started coughing.

It wasn’t the loud, continuous hacking of an asthmatic, but a muted, sporadic sound, so soft that those others exhausted from the day were not disturbed from their sleep.

Except for Yu Feichen.

As soon as he coughed, any vestiges of sleep left Yu Feichen’s mind.
He opened his eyes and gazed at the pitch-dark ceiling, again feeling the displeasure of having his plans altered by external forces.

He had always been a light sleeper.
However, when he really had to sleep in the past, even in the middle of a loud marketplace, he could force himself to sleep to recover his energy.

But it was different now; why was that?

Yu Feichen pondered over this for a full half-minute.

The conclusion he came to was that it had arisen from his excessive vigilance.
He wasn’t fully certain of this senior officer’s stance, thus couldn’t classify him as part of the friendly camp that posed no danger.

Also, even if this cough was intentionally muted, it was still grating to the ears amidst the dead silence of the cell.

Extremely grating.

Thus, when the cough started once more, Yu Feichen got up with his blanket.
He walked to stand before Anfield and wordlessly dropped the blanket.

Anfield’s voice was a little hoarse from his coughing.
He said, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” said Yu Feichen.
“The noise was disturbing me.”

Anfield draped the blanket over himself.

“I have lung disease,” he spoke lightly.

Yu Feichen had guessed it.
This wasn’t his first time seeing him cough, and this cell was indeed overly cold and damp.

Following Koroshan etiquette, he made a token remark, “Get well soon.”—then got up, intending to leave.

“Your arm.” Yet, he heard Anfield speak.
“Is it okay?”

“It’s fine,” Yu Feichen said.

“And your shoulder?” The cadence was even and without the slightest emotional inflection.

Yu Feichen paused.

The wound on his shoulder didn’t affect him much yet it was still noticed.
This senior officer had much sharper eyes than most people.

“Not too great.” Since it was already found out, he didn’t hide it either.

“I have deep-freeze spray.” Anfield’s voice already had a frosty quality to it, but because it was slightly muted, it turned into the transient mist above ice.

This was a sign of goodwill, lining up with Yu Feichen’s earlier conjecture.

He put away his original intention to leave, instead turning to sit across from Anfield.
They were seated very close to each other.
Despite there being guards at the door, they wouldn’t be able to hear their words.

He lowered his voice such that the crisp bite of his words could only be heard by the two of them.

“I have to ascertain your stance,” he said, “sir.”

In the moonlight, Anfield’s eyes were slightly hooded, and his silhouette so calm that he resembled a breathing sculpture—Yu Feichen himself didn’t know where on earth this strange metaphor in his head had popped up from.

“I am not Koroshan.” After a long silence, Anfield responded to his question.
The voice, similarly, was kept very low; Yu Feichen had to lean closer.
There was a wall in front.
He was slightly taller than Anfield and had a sturdy physique with wide shoulders.
As such, it appeared as if he was crowding the senior officer into the wall.

“The slogan of the total annihilation of Koroshans has been circulating around the Black Badge Army,” Anfield said.
“But I’ve always believed that hatred should not spill over to civilians.”

Once the words were spoken, Yu Feichen’s taut muscles relaxed, and he moved back.

“Thank you, if you may.” He reached up and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, speaking frankly.

His expression never changing, Anfield pulled out a spray bottle from the breast pocket of his uniform.

The deep freeze spray wouldn’t do a thing to heal the wound, but its pain relief was as effective as an anaesthetic.

Icy mist was sprayed from his arm to his shoulder.
Yu Feichen wore his shirt back on, his movements much lighter than before.

“Go to sleep.” Anfield put away the spray and held the luminous pocket watch between them both.
The minute hand pointed to the bottom; it was now ten-thirty.

“There’s an hour and a half to go,” Yu Feichen said.

Anfield didn’t ask him what the significance of an hour and a half was.
Yu Feichen returned to his own straw mat, shutting his eyes.

This time, he slept exceptionally deeply, but he was still able to control himself to wake up precisely at 11:58.
Anfield was still awake over there, as if he hadn’t moved a single inch.

The moonlight had also disappeared; only shifting silhouettes could be made out in the darkness of the cell.
The regular drip of the latrine moved like the ticking of a watch.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The very instant that the second hand pointed to twelve, it disappeared.

Yu Feichen took out the lighter and struck it.

The next moment after it lit, his pupils constricted, and he abruptly released his finger.

The flame that had just sprung up was suddenly extinguished.
The cell returned to darkness.

Footsteps rang out; Anfield walked over.

“Did you see that?” Yu Feichen spoke.

“I did.” Anfield reached over.
His icy fingers touched Yu Feichen’s palm as he took the lighter away.

With a click, the flame rekindled, and the oil lamp was lit.
Two stark silhouettes lay horizontally across the ground.
Two corpses.

One had strapping muscles and a head of dazzling blonde hair; it was the brawny blonde man from their cell.
The other was the short-statured man.

Their corpses were littered from head to toe with greenish-purple bruises.
Undoubtedly, they had struggled painfully before their deaths.

Step by step, Yu Feichen walked up to the corpses.
Their faces were clearly illuminated by the firelight, which was exactly what he had seen the moment he had struck the fire.

The corpses’ faces.

Two extremely queer faces.
Their eyes were closed, and their lips carried a faint smile.

It was an extremely serene smile.
The corners of their greyish-blue lips curled up stiffly and the eyebrows were also slightly lifted.
But when this expression appeared on a corpse, it became a bone-chilling image.

He looked around the cell.
Everyone was still around, including the brawny blonde and the short-statured man.
All of them were asleep.
He inhaled deeply, then smashed the padlock on the gate.
The loud sound of the padlock awakened everyone.

“Keep your eyes closed, then get up.” Anfield’s voice was deep and cold.
Hesitantly, they each got up.
They didn’t know why this senior officer wanted them to do so, but they still subconsciously obeyed his orders.

“Bai Song, Waddams.” Anfield accurately called out their names—Waddams was the big-nosed man.
“Open your eyes.”

The first thing that the two of them who did as instructed saw was the corpses on the ground.
Bai Song’s face immediately turned ashen white and his eyes wide, whereas the big-nosed man let out a cry of surprise.

The short-statured man asked with his eyes closed, “…What is it?”

No one replied to him.
Anfield only reiterated, “Keep your eyes closed.”

The next second, Yu Feichen broke the lock open.
“Take them out,” Anfield said.

After a moment’s hesitation, Bai Song pulled the brawny blonde’s arm, leading him towards the entrance of the cell.
The big-nosed man pulled the short-statured man and walked towards the entrance as well.

“After walking out, you can open your eyes,” Anfield enunciated each word carefully, saying, “But you mustn’t look back.”

Bai Song brought the brawny blonde to the corridor outside then softly told him, “You’re good now.” The brawny blonde let loose a long breath and opened his eyes, the minute twitching of his neck proving that he was restraining the impulse of turning his head.
He quietly said, “What is happening?”

The big-nosed man also brought the short-statured man to a stop outside the door “It’s okay now.” Due to the excessive shock he received, the hand that he had on the short-statured man was still trembling uncontrollably.

As if relieved of a burden, the short-statured man opened his eyes, working hard at staring ahead.
But there wasn’t any light ahead, only unending, dense darkness that pressed down on him, striking abject terror in his mind.

In the cell, Anfield carried the oil lamp while Yu Feichen checked each of the corners.
“They struggled,” he said while glancing at the bloodstains and impact marks on the wall.

He had also seen the corpses of the two men.
Old welts inflicted by whips were littered across it, as well as fresh marks of collision.

Before midnight, he thought that everything would be the same as the night before.
But now, the situation has changed.
The concentration camp after midnight would present a glimpse into a day in a future, in which the short-statured man and the brawny blonde were covered in wounds, yet died in the cell with smiles on their faces.

“We should look at the other cells.” After Yu Feichen finished checking the cell once, Anfield said.

He walked out with the lamp, Yu Feichen following behind him.
The others also walked onwards.

Right at this moment, the curiosity and worry of the short-statured man congealed, scratching at his mind like cat’s claws, batting his heart.

What the hell is going on? What are they hiding from me? What is it?

I’m just going to take a look out of the corner of my eye, just one look—

The muscles in the corners of his eyes twitched minutely.
His eyeballs rolled to the right, glancing into the cell out of the corner of his eye.

And it was in the gaps between the bars of the cell that he saw his own discoloured, smiling face.
An inhuman scream was produced from his throat and he flung himself to the iron bars, disbelieving, his body convulsing violently.

This scream resonated across the cells; it was a sound that would never be produced from any man even were he terrified to his core, unless something else was also happening to his body!

The short-statured man was still convulsing violently as he plunged to the ground.

At the instant that he collapsed to the ground, his body vanished without a trace, just like the friar who had vanished outside the gates of the concentration camp.

However, the friar had vanished without a trace in the rolling grey fog beyond the gates—whereas the smiling corpse of the short-statured man still lay quietly in the cell.

Bai Song’s voice was quavering.
“How… how? Wh… why?”

Obviously, this question was directed at Anfield, but Anfield didn’t speak.
He looked at Yu Feichen with those pale, ice-green eyes, as if gesturing for him to respond.

—this senior officer asked questions like he was doing an interrogation and looked at people like he was calling a student in class.

Yu Feichen took a deep breath.
He did have his own speculations.

“A man cannot be both dead on the ground while standing alive outside,” he said.
“Therefore, when he saw his corpse, between the two of them, only one could exist.”

“So, he died.”

The moment that these words were spoken, the brawny blonde’s breathing rapidly turned heavy.