The stairs are long and the dungeon is deep.
The deeper you go underground, the darker the light becomes and the smell of mold in the air becomes stronger.
Jing Mohao's eyes were sharp, and he stepped down the steps step by step, neither rushing nor relaxing.
After walking up an unknown number of steps and reaching a depth of several meters underground, I finally escaped from the narrow corridor and entered a long passage.
It was not spacious, but it was enough to accommodate a small team walking together.
Silver-colored cell bars were placed on both sides, with an iron wall in the middle blocking the view from the opposite side.
The cell is a single room, with a thick brick wall that is airtight between the two rooms.
There is no quarrel or noise.
It was as quiet as entering a hospital morgue.
Jing Mohao walked loudly in the corridor and inspected one by one.
As long as he patrols around, he already knows which room contains his person.
Because, as long as they are brought out from his Jing Mohao base, even if they are imprisoned in the Palace of Hell on the 18th floor underground, even if they face the torture and threats of bull-headed and horse-faced people, their backs must be straightened by him.
In the dogma of their dark base, you can fail, but you can never admit defeat.
Jing Mohao looked around and finally chose to stop in front of the fence of a room.
He grabbed his pocket with one hand, picked up the keys with the other, and banged them on the railing, making a series of rapid and harsh noises.
The prisoner in the room was already in tatters, his hair was unkempt, and his appearance was hard to distinguish.
He just stood upright, with his back to the fence, looking up at the meter of sunlight streaming in from a narrow window on the high wall.
Hearing the noise, the man didn't react at all, not even a hair trembled.
The sound of knocking on the door was endless, continuing to disturb the solid air in the cell with his frantic rhythm.
The man finally frowned, and his voice was hoarse but solemn enough, "Don't bother me with these things.
If you want to kill me, I'll cut him into pieces."
Jing Mohao stopped tapping with his hand, and when he heard this, the corners of his lips curled up with satisfaction, "Yes, he is a man."
The figures in the room suddenly froze, as if they had been thinking for a long time, then slowly turned around and looked towards the door.
He saw a person standing outside the door.
He was wearing a dark green uniform that disgusted him deeply.
His figure was so tall that he could not ignore it.
The brim of a hat that was deliberately lowered was reflected in the darkness and his appearance could not be seen clearly.
A thin lip that was as sharp as a razor revealed his cold expression.
The voice, timbre and tone of what he just spoke were so familiar.
It's like the person in my memory who once came to test his training results, but ended up knocking him down without even making two moves.
He was like the person in his memory who had a cold and arrogant aura, but was still willing to reach out and pull his disgraced self up from the ground.
Although he would only interact with his subordinates during the final assessment, his unique and powerful existence, just this interaction, was enough for him and each of his brothers to have his every move engraved on their bones. , as long as they have not turned into ashes, they will always remember him.
Looking at him standing less than ten meters away from her, he briefly inspected the lock on the railing.
Without looking up at the room number on the beam, he quickly found the correct key and opened the lock.
He was already certain that the person in front of him was the supreme leader of their base, the beacon of his life, and their noble and supreme young master
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