Here Lies The Wicked

Outside the cell is a row of long, dark corridors with dull candlelight on the stone walls and long, long, long corridors.

Long gone.

Later it didn't end.

On both sides of the narrow, dark, damp corridor, a cell, people stood still just as they prepared to gauge the surrounding environment carefully.

The architectural style of the cell here is not uniform. In his cell, it is made of stone strips and fenced, but in the opposite cell, it is a very simple, dilapidated wooden room, separated by a single room... it doesn't look like a cell, it looks like the Kozhu Examination Course that is often seen on ancient television?

On one side is the cell, and on the other is the examination hall. What a strange place...

Faced with this huge contrast, Fang muttered.

But whether it's a cell or a courtyard compartment across the street, there's one thing in common: it's empty.

No one.

In this dark dungeon, he seems to be the only one.

Shaking his head and forcibly interrupting his thoughts, he threw these details aside for the moment and began to find a way out of the cell as soon as possible in the dungeon world where the light was dark.

But the next question came, and he couldn't get out of the cell, no matter what.

He's here, like he's been stripped of all his power, and he can't even break a fence that looks like the most ordinary.

Or, not that his power disappeared, but that the confinement of this place was so strong that even he could not break through for a moment and a half.

Boo!

Heh, heh! Boo!

Fang is like a grumpy beast behind a zoo iron railing. He hit the iron railing in front of him at once, but it is always useless.

In this dark underground space where the sun and moon are lost and time is lost as a reference, the meaning of time begins to blur… The square does not know how long it has been impacted until exhausted, so it has to stop.

Even after exhaustion, Fang Zheng still did not give up hope of escape. He began to think about spiritual martial arts monkey view over and over again, trying to break out of the illusion trap, hoping that all this was fake in front of him.

Once again, however, he proved useless.

Square eyebrows tightly tightened.

Without doing any more useless work, he began to sit quietly, carefully gauge his surroundings and think about how to get out.

……

Time exists to dilute people's memories of the past.

And after the time reference was lost in the local jail, the existence of all memories became meaningless.

Fang doesn't know how long he's been stuck here.

Time seems to be diluting the blurred line between reality and illusion...

Apart from him, there was no second person, always quiet, dead silent, like a dark dungeon abandoned by a long grave, suddenly coming from the fine friction of sand and sand.

He was sitting on the floor, ignoring the dirt, and suddenly looked up in the direction of the sound!

Turns out, the wooden compartment opposite his cell, at this time unnamed, stands a man who looks like a schoolboy, the schoolboy is dry, thin, with a shadow facing him, the sound of sand and sand heard before, is not the sound of the examination field writing the answer sheet, the schoolboy is actually facing him, just like a lunatic, nails engraved a word on the wooden wall.

Even if his nails broke and his fingertips were crushed, he ignored them.

People continue to engrave a line of blood on hard wooden boards with their fingers, as if they were painless.

The darkness of the dungeon environment, coupled with the small size of the blood, is not clear from the distance.

The correct writing format, only know, seems to be ancient traditional script?

At this time, he has been paying close attention to the correction of the book details, and finally noticed more details. The book student kept a braid...

“This is…” square to the age of the scholar, the mind already has a conjecture.

Sasha...

At this time, the students in the opposite cell continue to engrave blood on the wall with their fingers...

Fang is temporarily calling this writer, who keeps engraving his fingers, a madman.

Fang bowed his head and said hello to the madman in the other cell. Try to find out where we are.

As a result, apart from obsessively engraving, the madman writer turned his back on him as if he had not heard his voice.

“Cough, cough...”

At this time, the dark dungeon suddenly sounded like a continuous painful cough of pain, the sound of pain was far away, not from the madman's writer just opposite him.

Standing right behind the iron fence, through limited perspectives, he tried to find the source of the painful cough.

The left and right compartments of madman scholars, more than a dozen compartments look past, nobody, these examination rooms are empty, nothing but dust.

And his cell on this side was severely separated by a wall, and he didn't even know if he lived next door to him.

“Cough, cough...”

The painful cough persisted, and it kept happening in Codu, as if it didn't cough up his lungs and vowed not to stop.

Cough... Pfft!

A bite of blood spit out, splattered the ground, through the direction of the blood on the ground, and finally saw where the cough came from.

The man was actually another bookkeeper from across the hall.

The science examiner, almost 100 meters from the madman bookkeeper opposite him, is really too far apart, except for the blood on the ground, can not see the situation of the examinee behind the compartment.

Fang is temporarily naming the candidate Lung Shu Shu.

At this time, the sudden appearance of two braided scholars, it seems absolutely impossible to be a coincidence, surely what wedge caused the change, then there is likely to be a new change.

Fang Zheng's guess was quickly met.

The long, quiet dungeon of the shadow, somehow called for more husbands to beat more... more noise, banging, and then matched by more husbands' pointy voices like those laughing in bliss and happiness, is rapidly coming from far and near.

“The Immortal Buddha is in vain. He only knows that the night does not ring...”

“The dust returns to dust, the dust returns to dust, the life and death leads to life and glory, but a loess soil, a green ash...”

“It's useless to be a scholar...”

A strange combination of poems, mixed with Jiangfu's pointy voice, sang away in this closed dungeon, baking the environment into a stranger atmosphere.

Fang stood behind the iron fence, trying to look in the direction of Gongfu, whispering in his heart, what the hell is going on here?

Or is he not familiar with the world of shadows?

How can you act alone and let him win the grand prize...

Finally, Jiang Hu approached, Fang finally saw what the so-called Jiang Hu looked like!