Asa rubbed his neck and woke up, finding himself lying on a pile of moldy hay. A mouse quickly jumped from his feet and scurried into the gap in the corner of the wall.

  The walls on three sides are made of large bluestone blocks, with only a faint light seeping in through two ventilation holes slightly larger than fists. The other side is a wooden grille as thick as an arm, and there are several layers of grilles outside the wooden grille. This is a cold and gloomy dungeon.

  Just now, he was still in the magnificent Dukes mansion, but now he is lying in a cell in a dungeon. The huge contrast made Asas dizzy head unclear for a moment. He shook his head and thought carefully, but became even more confused.

  Is the knight suspecting that theres something wrong between him and his fiancée? Or does he think he heard that his fiancées injury was caused by himself? Asa carefully filtered through his report in his mind, and indeed, there were no loopholes. He had already taken care of the story about the swamp on the way to the royal capital. Was it the knights own arbitrary claim? In that case, he would have to speak with the duke directly.

  Asa suddenly heard a strange noise coming from the cell next door. It was the sound of a man and woman panting and moaning.

  Before he could react to what was happening, the door of the dungeon was kicked open with a loud crash. A thin man dressed as a prison guard rushed in and ran straight to the cell where someone was groaning, kicking at the wooden bars on the door and shouting: "Get out!"

  Inside, someone groaned with effort a few times, then a slightly fatter prison guard emerged slowly, holding up his pants.

  The thin prisoner shouted loudly: "Whats going on here? Didnt we agree that I would go first?"

  The fat prison guard licked his lips with a lingering aftertaste, and replied slowly: "Who told you to come so late? You didnt arrive even after the shift change time, I was worried sick waiting for you."

  "Damn it, youve never been so diligent in waiting for me during regular hours. Now that Im late by a few minutes, youre already complaining for half the day. Why are you not anxious to leave now? Youre just enjoying yourself here and making me help you with the dishes?"

  "Never mind, since its already done, theres no use talking about it. You can do whatever you want... or just wait until she gets out and then go..."

  The skinny guy became even more furious: "Damn it......"

  Asa walked up to the wooden fence and said to the two jailers outside, "I want to see Duke Muraq..." thinking about how to explain this matter to the duke.

  "Damn it!" The thin man suddenly turned around and kicked out with one foot, right in the chest of Asa, who was completely unprepared.

  The sound of the bone breaking was unusually clear in the quiet dungeon. The few ribs on his chest, still very fragile, were kicked and broken again, and he let out a muffled groan as he fell backwards, hitting the back of his head on a protruding rock under the straw, and everything went black as he fainted.

  Two prison guards heard the crisp sound and saw that the prisoner fell to the ground and didnt move. The fat one hastily opened the gate, came over to take a look at Asa, felt his breath, and exclaimed: "Its bad, hes not breathing!" He also felt his chest. "Several ribs are broken. It seems like theres no heartbeat either."

  The skinny guy was also secretly shocked by the power of this kick, but he pretended to be calm and shouted: "Whats the big deal? Whats the fuss about a dead prisoner? I told you before that my kung fu is very strong, it was famous when I was in the army. You go ask...

  The fat man looked at the thin man with a terrified expression, his voice trembling like sifting chaff: "This prisoner is a spy sent by the Dukes mansion, and was personally caught by Baron Klauvis. He may come to interrogate him again."

  The skinny guy was still reveling in the thrill of his kick, eyes wide with excitement: "Whos afraid?" As if even the Baron himself came, no big deal, just another kick to kill. But taking a slight breath, his heart was racing, after all, the recent heretic and spy incidents had been quite intense, killing a spy might lead to suspicion of being a spy himself trying to silence someone, and the Barons severity was notorious. The skinny guys voice dropped an octave: "Wait for me to think this through..."

  Shortly after, when the two jailers had just finished arranging, Clavius the knight arrived.

  "Escaped?" The knights face was greener than the bluestone on the wall.

  Two jailers covered their heads and necks, the thin man replied in a life-threatening tone: "He said he was seriously injured and asked us to find him a doctor. This is an important prisoner you caught, we were afraid that if he really died, we would go in to take a look at him, but unexpectedly he fainted us and ran away." To prove their loyalty, they pointed to other cells and said: "Ask the other prisoners, they all saw it with their own eyes." The entire prison responded with a chorus of half-dead voices.

  Klausss eyes burst out with a fierce light that could almost kill, staring at the two prison guards and throwing down a sentence: "You are not allowed to move here, wait for me to come back." He turned around and rushed out of the dungeon.

  It wasnt until the footsteps had faded away for a while that the thin man finally caught his breath and expressed his dissatisfaction in a very disdainful tone: "Whats with the pretentious act? Its not like hes anything special, just because he was born into a good family. If I were born into the Erni family too, Id be a general by now." Looking at the fat man still shaking with fear, and recalling the knights gaze from earlier, his sense of bravery revived again. Patting the fat man on the shoulder, he said: "How about it? You wanted to handle the corpse yourself, but that would take time and risk being discovered. Why not just send it to Old Sandru instead? He can help us solve the problem much faster. If you had done it yourself, we wouldnt have made it in time."

  The fatty was still trembling and his voice wasnt clear: "His eyes are really scary."

  The skinny one was talking wildly: "I told you earlier, these rich kids just like to put on airs, relying on their familys power to intimidate people. If he were an ordinary person, Id kick him to death with one foot..." The fat one nodded in agreement, his soul not in his body.

  No matter whether they were speaking with enthusiasm or listening intently, the two of them stood there motionless.

  It wasnt long before Clavius had arranged the search operation of the Imperial Guard and returned to prison, even before the two mens legs were sore.

  "Has the criminal talked to anyone here?"

  "It seems like there isnt..." The thin man didnt dare to look directly at Klauss gaze, and instead looked at the wall behind him as he replied. The fat man just stared at the ground and trembled.

  "Good...or evil?" Klaatus voice was both a question and a musing. The two jailers did not dare to answer.

  "En." Klause seemed to have figured out something and made up his mind, nodding slowly.

  "No one can avoid making mistakes, and even if they do make a mistake, its enough to try to make up for it. Regretting and blaming is useless." The two jailers noticed that the knights face didnt look as terrible as before, no longer that frightening green color, and there was even a hint of warmth in his eyes, as if he was also forgiving and comforting them. This made them feel relieved, and the thin one hastily replied: "Yes, yes, we will definitely try to make up for it."

  "Good, good, youre right." Klauwens put his hands on the shoulders of the two jailers, which made them completely delighted. The fat one was no longer afraid and thought that this handsome young nobleman was even more worthy of reverence than the gods in the church. The thin one also acknowledged from the bottom of his heart that this rich young master was probably indeed a little higher than himself.

  A dull thud echoed through the air in the dungeon.

  One fat and one thin body leaned against each other as they fell, as if they were very close friends, with blood and brain matter mixed together, impossible to distinguish from each other. The distance was relatively close, and the few people who could see the situation clearly inside the fence let out cries of surprise.

  Klause Knight frowned majestically, and in his slow and steady tone, like an adult scolding a child, he rebuked the rising and falling screams: "Whats all the commotion about? Theyre just doing their job. You have responsibilities too."

  Back at the Dukes mansion, Duke Mlak learned that the culprit had escaped and didnt show much expression change, but calmly instructed to bring the culprits personal belongings for him to see.

  Clavis gazed at the Dukes tranquil expression with genuine admiration. This was a man who never let anyone know what he was thinking, yet those narrowed eyes that seemed to hold a hint of a smile appeared to be able to see through to the deepest secrets in anyones heart. This was something Clavis strove to learn.

  He held the knife in his hand, admiring it carefully. The Dukes eyes narrowed even further. He ran his fingers along the blade, hesitating for a moment before suddenly asking Klauvius, "What kind of knife do you think this is?"

  Klauss looked carefully and replied, "Not a regular army-issue weapon, but a privately-made one from an ironworks," then looked again. "A very good ironworker."

  "Thats right, it was made by a very good blacksmith. The tilt of the blade, the length, and the change in thickness are all well controlled. Can you also see what kind of relationship there is between this blacksmith and the user of this sword?"

  Krauss looked carefully but couldnt see anything. He had no choice but to reply: "Cant see anything."

  "This knife is very practical, every useful place is made properly, but there is no trace of decoration, not even the most basic decoration. In other words, this knife is not a commodity, nor is it a gift between friends. It seems to be for personal use." The duke asked: "How old do you think that soldier was?"

  "About twenty."

  "If this sword was made by him, then he must have started practicing blacksmithing in his mothers womb. The one who made this sword should be his elder, probably his father." The dukes reasoning made Klaus prostrate himself on the ground. "The iron used for this sword is also top-grade refined ore. A person who would become a temporary mercenary soldier, an ordinary blacksmith family, how could they have so much top-grade refined ore? Unless it was..."

  "Unless his house is near a mine that produces precious ore." Klauvius added. "Send someone to Kalendo to investigate."

  "No need, anyway its less than an hour, the person must still be in the city, just look carefully." The duke put down his knife. "The chair that soldier sat on, the cup he used, where are they?"

  "Ah... this... I ordered it thrown away."

  "Thrown away?" The dukes eyes showed a rare look of surprise. "Why?"

  "I think its completely improper for things used by that kind of person to remain in the house."

  The duke stared at Klaus for a while. Although he knew that the Duke had no intention of getting angry or blaming him, Klauss back was still a little hairy.

  "Youre still too young." The duke withdrew his gaze, concluding with a somewhat helpless tone. Then he gave the order: "Tell the officers of the Imperial Guard in the capital that this spy is extremely dangerous, and to execute him on the spot if found, without allowing him to speak."

  "Yes." Klause took his leave. He had every confidence in the Imperial Guards efficiency, and it was possible that the soldier was already a dead man.

  "How is he still alive?"

  Asa woke up and the first thing she heard was a complaint. This tone often appears in the vegetable market. When an old lady buys unsatisfactory or inferior vegetables or meat, it will appear immediately.