Iron Powder and Spellcaster

Jiangbei Province, Xiaolu City.

Xiaolu City is famous for two things, one is painted pottery, and the other is the infamous "Stone Mountain Prison".

Stone Mountain Prison was a debtor's prison designed to house indebted bankrupts and poor people who were in arrears with their taxes.

Unless relatives and friends are willing to lend a helping hand, the unlucky man imprisoned in Stone Mountain Prison has only two outcomes: either he dies of illness in a dark and crowded cell, or he dies violently in hard labor day after day.

After the military government took over Xiaolu City, Shishan Prison was also requisitioned and was no longer limited to holding debtors.

The identities of the new prisoners include [Deserts], [Red Rose Supporters], [Public Officials Who Refuse to Oath of Allegiance], etc. They have two characteristics in common: first, they are regarded as criminals and enemies by the military government; second, the military government does not care about their life or death.

In October alone, nearly a hundred deserters and farmers who had deserted the military service were sent to Stone Mountain Prison; in November, this number rose to 200.

The admission of a large number of new prisoners has caused the already overcrowded Stone Mountain Prison to become overwhelmed, and the military government's solution to the problem is simple - not enough prison space? Wouldn't it be enough to make room?

Therefore, after winter comes, the main job of the warden of Shishan Prison is to execute the prisoners who were sent to the prison last month to make room for the prisoners who will be sent to the prison next month.

Anyway, in theory - that is, on the premise of recognizing the validity of the decrees issued by the military government - the "deserters", "enemies" and "traitors" imprisoned in Shishan Prison have all been sentenced to death.

On the first day of every week, inmates at Stone Mountain Prison wait in extreme fear for their roll call to be called. If your name is called, you will go to the gallows. If your name is not called, you can live for another seven days, and then the next call.

Pierre Giladnovich Mitchell has lost count of how long he was imprisoned. A week? Two weeks? A month?

Anyway, in this earthly hell like Stone Mountain Prison, time has no meaning.

Pierre was ill, very ill.

In Stone Mountain Prison, everyone gets sick, and it would be strange if they don't.

There is no need to talk about food, drink, and accommodation, just going to the toilet.

The buckets of excrement had to be emptied every other day, but filling them took only one day. More than sixty people were crowded into a space that could only accommodate twenty people, eating, drinking, and sleeping. The filthy cell was simply a breeding ground for the plague.

Fortunately, there was a kind old man to take care of Pierre.

The old man bribed the jailer and was able to get hot stones to warm Pierre every day. Pierre's throat was so swollen that he couldn't eat bread, so the old man chewed sour black bread - the only food given to prisoners in the prison - and soaked it in warm water to make a paste and fed it to Pierre.

The old man was a native of Xiaolu City and was imprisoned in Stone Mountain Prison because he owed a lot of debt.

The old man said to Pierre: "Now I think that being cheated may be the Lord's grace to me. At least no one wants me to die before the money is paid back. What can be more terrifying than waiting to die? That devil is deliberately torturing you. .”

…

That devil is what the old man calls the new warden.

For the prisoners, the "roll call" every Monday is the most painful.

When the warden walked into the dungeon with the roster, the prisoners were silent, and the air seemed to be frozen solid.

The warden would stand in the middle of the corridor and slowly roll out the roster, calling names one by one, repeating each name three times.

The prisoners listened with pale faces, not even daring to speak out.

The prisoners whose names were called either burst into tears, or their eyes darkened, and many of them collapsed completely. They will never leave the cell on their own initiative, and the warden and jailers will not take the initiative to enter the cell to catch the nearly crazy prisoners.

The warden simply told the other prisoners "he, or one of you in his place," and asked the jailer to prepare his matchlock.

The words of "that devil" were by no means a pale and empty threat, but an objective description of what happened next. Therefore, most of the named prisoners were forcibly pushed out of their cells by other prisoners.

As for the prisoners whose names were not called, although they will have a brief moment of happiness and joy, these emotions will be swallowed up in an instant.

Because they understand that there will be a next time, and the next time, and the next time... As long as they are still in Stone Mountain Prison, bad luck will eventually befall them. By that time, they were also dragged out of their cells by others and discarded like garbage by others.

Suffering from cruel mental torture, some prisoners have become crazy, and some even prefer to commit suicide and other blasphemous crimes rather than continue to live.

Whether the warden did this intentionally or not, Pierre didn't know, but the demon was obviously very satisfied with the effect.

…

"Yes, he is torturing us." Pierre replied hoarsely to the old man: "[Old saying] The sinner has received the punishment he deserves."

"What?" The old man didn't understand: "What did you say?"

"It's an old saying, which means he treats torturing us as punishment for sinners - what the devil said himself, in front of us and the jailers. Heh, he probably thought no one could understand."

Pierre seemed to be smiling, but the anger and resentment in his eyes made the old man want to shudder: "Are we sinners? What crime have we committed? To be treated like this? What does he think he is? A judgment angel? He is just A sick! A beast that can't wait to abuse even if it has a little bit of pathetic power..."

The old man's attention was not on what the devil said. He asked in surprise: "Old words? What the master said? Can you say it?"

Pierre smiled incredulously.

The old man was overjoyed: "Then...then you are also a master? Hi! I knew you must have some background!"

Pierre laughed at himself: "If I were the master, would I still be here waiting to rot?"

"Hey!" the old man protested in a long voice, and said happily: "There is a time when a good horse can pull a cart!"

Through the small window of the dungeon, Pierre could see the gallows at the other end of the prison, where frozen corpses always hung.

Crows hovered in swarms over the gallows like moving black clouds.

"No matter what kind of horse it is, it will die." Pierre's throat was so swollen that it was difficult for him to speak: "Here, it's a matter of time."

The old man comforted Pierre and said, "Don't worry, you are not included in the roll call so many times, and you will not be included next time."

"What you said doesn't count, old man." Pierre smiled bitterly.

"I'm not talking nonsense!" The old man became more serious: "I really don't think there will be you."

Pierre was a little tired. He leaned against the fence and tried to change into a comfortable sitting position, intending to take a nap.

There is not enough space in the cell for everyone to lie down, so the prisoners have to sit with their legs curled up to rest and sleep.

Seeing that Pierre didn't want to talk, the old man didn't speak anymore and closed his eyes and took a nap.

After a while, Pierre's weak voice reached the old man's ears: "Old man?"

"What's wrong?"

Pierre wrapped his coat tightly, and the stone used for heating was no longer hot: "I, I may not be able to survive. If I don't get hanged, I will die of illness sooner or later."

The old man stretched out one hand to Pierre's forehead, and put the other hand against his own forehead: "Hey, what are you talking about? Your fever has gone away! In a few days, in a few days you will be a great young man again. .”

The high fever made Pierre unable to exert any strength. He pulled up his sleeves with difficulty. Without answering the old man's words, he said to himself: "Old man, look, here is an armband. It is made of sterling silver. I am twelve years old." On my birthday, my father gave it to me..."

The old man held down Pierre's sleeve, his face turned red and he was very embarrassed: "That...that...that one is no longer there..."

"That one?" Pierre was puzzled.

The old man licked his lips and hummed: "Armband."

Pierre touched it in disbelief and checked it several times before he was shocked to realize that the armband was really no longer on his arm.

Not daring to look Pierre in the eye, the old man coughed and explained coyly: "It's not stealing, I didn't steal it from you. That silver armband of yours... I gave it to the jailer. The stone you used to warm yourself... And the bread we eat was all exchanged for that armband...otherwise, how could those snake-like jailers be so kind? Don't you think so?"

Pierre was stunned for a moment, then touched his earlobe in shock: "Then my earrings..."

"Give it to the jailer too."

"The one with the hair tied in it?"

"Too."

"besides……"

"All." The old man was very embarrassed: "That's all."

"This... you... when did you..."

"Some days, when you're asleep."

Pierre was stunned. Suddenly, he sat up straight as if he had just woken up from a dream, quickly took off his boots, and groped around frantically inside them.

"Hey." Pierre stopped, sighed helplessly, and put on his boots again: "I can't keep the armbands or anything...I can't keep them anyway...Thank you, old man. A good bribe, a good bribe."

The old man heard that Pierre was not angry, and hurriedly helped Pierre put on his boots: "Hey, I knew you could figure it out. No matter how good the gold and silver are, it is not hungry! It is worse than a piece of bread in prison. It works! Don’t worry, if it doesn’t work, I’ll try to find a way to get it back for you.”

"It's okay." Pierre leaned tiredly on the fence, his face a little red from the "violent" exercise just now: "I originally planned to give it to you anyway."

"ah?"

"I've calculated my inheritance." Pierre laughed self-deprecatingly: "Except for the gold and silver on my body, it's just this coat."

Pierre patted the coat he was wearing: "Although it's a little dirty, the material is good. After I die, you can wear it and don't waste it."

"Don't say anything stupid."

"I also have something to ask you."

"Say, you say."

Pierre coughed painfully, and his cheeks took on a strange red color. After he stopped coughing, he straightened his back and said to the old man seriously: "I am Dusak, you should know, right?"

"Of course." The old man scratched his thinning hair: "You Dusa people... are quite obvious."

"After I die, I want a Dussac funeral, not a Platuan funeral." Pierre then added: "It's not that I look down on the Platts... but... I just want... …Want to be buried in the earth as a Dussac…”

"I can understand you, don't worry, don't worry, I don't want to be buried randomly after death." The old man vaguely felt the weight of Pierre's words, and unconsciously became formal.

But he scratched his hair again and asked distressedly: "But, what is the funeral of the Dussa people like?"

"This." Pierre was stunned: "I, I can't explain it in just a few words."

The old man was lost in thought.

Pierre was silent for a long time, then suddenly clapped his legs and laughed: "That's fine! It doesn't matter! Where can the red soil not bury people? Why should I be picky?"

He grabbed the railing and struggled to his feet.

The old man looked at Pierre with concern.

Pierre looked through the window at the gallows in the distance, and said to himself through gritted teeth: "I am Dussac, and I will never die on the gallows, never!"

The old man pulled Pierre to sit down: "Don't worry, I guarantee you, your name will definitely not be called. No one will call you when the devil calls you."

Pierre grinned and sat back down.

"It would be nice if there was paper and pen." Pierre curled up and murmured: "If there is paper and pen, I would also like to ask you to deliver a few letters."

"Can you still write?" The old man was extremely surprised.

"Of course."

"Can you teach me how to write my name? I want to know how to write my name. The parish priest taught me once, but I forgot it within a few days."

"That's not easy. What's your name?"

The old man swallowed: "My name is..."

At this moment, there was a "crunch" and the dungeon door opened.

The stinking dungeon made even the jailer unwilling to stay longer. So there are only a few situations where the cell door will open. For example, meals are provided at noon every day, three unshakable inspections in the morning, noon and evening, toilet emptying time once every two days, and... roll call.

But the current time is obviously not suitable for any of the above situations.

The dungeon became silent for a moment, and the prisoners stood up one by one.

The old man and Pierre's "seats" were in the corners of the cell, so they couldn't see what was going on in the corridor. But there’s nothing wrong with that intense feeling of suffocation.

The temperature of the air suddenly dropped, whether it was because of the cold wind blowing into the dungeon from outside or a human illusion.

"clatter"

"clatter"

"clatter"

The sound of boots hitting the ground.

This way of walking, where each step was like hammering a nail with the heel of a boot, was also unmistakable to Pierre.

The old man and Pierre were both stunned. They saw the same answer in each other's eyes - roll call.

But today is not Monday!

The two helped each other stand up, but there were people in front of them, and Pierre and the old man in the corner still couldn't see anything clearly.

The roll call was called, and all the prisoners understood that the roll call was coming.

To Pierre's left, a prisoner who was usually very irritable was sweating profusely. The vicious prisoner was trembling and saluting, wiping sweat while still reciting prayers.

In front of Pierre, another prisoner tugged on the sleeves of the two people beside him and chanted crazily: "I already know the rules of the devil's roll call! I know everything! I have already figured it out! This time without me, next time Not even once…”

And more prisoners just stood silently and stiffly.

The sound of boot heels hitting the ground disappeared, followed by the sound of rosters being spread out.

All the prisoners swallowed subconsciously.

The devil said "hmm" softly, seeming to be hesitant. Immediately, the devil slowly read out his name, which was a bit difficult to pronounce:

"Pierre Giladnovitch Mitchell—Mr."

The old man's expression changed, and he looked at the young man beside him with trembling eyes. The old man saw the young man sitting down slowly, "He was scared" - this was the first thought that popped into the old man's mind.

Next, the old man saw the young man taking off his boots - which was completely contrary to the old man's expectations.

"What is he going to do?" The old man didn't know why.

Then, the old man saw the young man tearing open the upper of his boot and pulling out a knife.

a knife?

a knife?

It is more like a handleless blade than a knife, but it is indeed a sharp blade that shines with a faint cold light.

All the saliva in the old man's mouth disappeared, and his heart hit his chest like a hammer. Every hair on his body stood on end. He wanted to speak, to stop the other person, but his body was too stiff to move.

Several other prisoners also saw the sharp blade in Pierre's hand. They were equally shocked, and they also did not speak or move.

"Mr. Pierre Giladnovitch Mitchell," the devil repeated.

Pierre put on his boots again, stood up, and responded: "Here."

"Please come out of the cell."

The old man felt that he just blinked and the sharp blade disappeared from Pierre's hand.

Pierre took off his coat and handed it to the old man, then walked towards the cell door with his head held high.

The prisoners made way for Pierre, who walked steadily forward, as if strolling on the verandah of Mitchell Manor.

No one has ever been able to walk to death so calmly after being called. The prisoners looked at Pierre with a mixture of awe and pity.

The old man also stared at the young man's back. He wanted to shout and go with him, but in the end he failed to make a sound or take a step.

Pierre walked to the cell door, and the devil motioned to the jailer to open the door for him.

Pierre took a slow breath. His body was very weak, and his strength and flexibility were far less than before, so he had no second chance. He had to be patient and decisive.

The devil looked Pierre up and down and nodded.

Then the devil showed an unprecedented smile, turned to look to his left, and asked humbly: "Your Excellency, is this gentleman?"

Pierre subconsciously followed the devil's gaze and saw a middle-aged soldier wearing a school officer's uniform.

The middle-aged soldier was looking at another soldier wearing a captain's uniform with inquiring eyes: "Is it him?"

Pierre seemed to be struck by lightning. He was trembling, stiff, and hairy like the old man just now. The sharp blade hidden in his hand almost fell to the ground.

The captain ignored the colonel at all. He rushed to Pierre's side and hugged Pierre tightly.

"It seems right." The school officer was not annoyed and nodded.

"That's good." The devil agreed with a smile, and his smile was almost flattering. He bowed his head in greeting: "That's good."

At this moment, Pierre suddenly discovered that the devil was not a devil at all, but an ordinary person who could be seen everywhere.

An ordinary person who can be seen everywhere, who eagerly abuses people after getting a little bit of pathetic power, and who flatters and bends to the uniform of a school officer.

"Let's go." The school officer wrinkled his nose. Apparently, the stench of the cell made him uncomfortable.

"Let's go." The captain pulled Pierre tightly: "Your father, Vasya, Priest Karman...and your mother, Scarlett...we are all waiting for you."

Pierre's throat was blocked and his chest felt tight. He looked back at the cell and saw faces that were numb, envious, resentful, painful, and twisted.

He bit his tongue so hard that he didn't even notice it drew blood.

The colonel covered his nose and walked out of the dungeon. The captain was also urging Pierre: "Let's go."

Pierre stared hard at the face of the "ordinary man" and held the sharp blade in his hand tightly.

The "ordinary man" looked at Pierre with a smile.

The captain also noticed something strange about Pierre and asked with concern: "What's wrong?"

"I..." Pierre was in extreme pain, and with just a spark he would pierce the "ordinary person"'s chest with a sharp blade: "I... you... can you take one more person away? Just one, just one……"

When the school officer heard this, he turned around and frowned slightly: "A deserter too?"

"No, no, it's the debtor."

The captain asked simply: "How much is owed?"

The school official smiled and waved his hand. The "ordinary person" reopened the roster and asked politely: "Excuse me, what is the name of the debtor?"

Pierre was stunned because he realized that he didn't know the old man's name from beginning to end.

"Vogt! My name is Vogt!" The old man rushed to the fence and shouted with tears: "I only owe twenty-three silver shields and a dime!"

[Updated Chapter 2]

[I, Donkey Jiang, am going to break the millstone today...? ]