Chaotic Sword God
Apocalypse Gacha
Necromancer: I Am A Disaster
Martial Cultivator
Reincarnation of the Strongest Sword God - Side Stories
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Nightmare Assault
I, The Dragon Overlord
Loser System and Berserker Me
Horror Game Designer
There's Absolutely No Problem With The Magic Cards I Made!
Swear Fealty To Me, My Subjects!
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 244: Fear
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 322: Five Seconds
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1169- See you downstairs
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 942: The Fate-Burning Candle
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 943: Resisting the Mandate of Heaven (1)
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1168- Level exceeding activation
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 15
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 618: Vajra's Angry Gaze
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3826: The Illusionary Ancestor’s Gift
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 243: Found!
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 321: Gaze
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1167- Kill the kill-stealer
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 941: Fortune
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1166- Terrifying Sprites
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 14
The Demon King is Too Unfathomable!
Chapter 31: Weaving Shadow Nest! Crypt Lord!
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 617: Bodhisattva Lowers Its Gaze
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 320: Fate is a Cycle
"Come out, Garcia Greene."
Through the unlocked wooden door, Finley called out loudly.
Greene, not daring to delay, clumsily ran out of his cell, dragging the chains locked around his ankles.
He was one of the twenty-six inmates similarly summoned to the corridor. The dim light from the wall-mounted oil lamps cast shadows on their faces—all were bald and beardless, dressed in identical round-necked tunics and knee-length trousers, their cheeks swollen, faces pale, dragging slightly long iron chains.
Greene knew he looked just like the rest of them.
After counting the inmates and confirming everyone was present, Finley handed them buckets and large pieces of ragged cloth, gesturing for them to get moving.
The twenty-seven men, including Garcia Greene, hurried to the only water source at the end of the corridor, carrying the buckets and rags. The militia had installed a water pump, drawing groundwater to the faucets on each floor, making it convenient for the inmates to fetch water nearby.
After lining up at the faucet to collect water, the inmates energetically began cleaning every area—corridors, toilets, empty or occupied cells, and more. All of them, once living luxuriously and unaccustomed to such menial work, had adapted. Repeated tasks led to proficiency, even for the unwilling.
Amid the clanking of chains, the twenty-seven prisoners managed to scrub the entire basement level spotless in just over half an hour.
Finley, who had been standing at the end of the corridor, conducted a random inspection of several cells and checked his pocket watch. Nodding in approval, he stated indifferently, "Completed 20 minutes ahead of schedule. You'll get extra food today."
Like the others, Greene, standing obediently against the wall, involuntarily swallowed at the mention of extra food.
When Finley brought down two buckets of food, none of the prisoners squabbled or fought over it. They all patiently waited to receive their share, sat cross-legged in two rows against the wall, and devoured their meals. They even
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Checkout my other novels:
I'm Really Not The Demon God's Lackey
The Hero Turned Into A Potato And The World Fell To Ruin