Chapter 1: Death Row Camp, an Outbreak of Murder

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“Count An Yuan Li Dao, you have committed an unforgivable crime by defying your superiors.”

“If it weren’t for Her Highness the Princess’s intervention, you would have been executed today.”

“Li Dao, don’t blame me. The princess spared your life, but His Majesty would not. Let the death row camp be your final resting place.”

“From now on, your number is 9527. You have no identity in this world; you are merely a man awaiting death.”

...

In a haze, fragments of memories flashed through Li Dao’s mind.

“*Huff.*”

After a series of sharp breaths, Li Dao suddenly sat up from the ground, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.

His gaze swept the surroundings: a dim space, damp atmosphere, wooden prison bars, and an overwhelming stench of blood and decay that made one deeply uncomfortable.

He glanced down at himself—disheveled hair, a pitifully battered body with several abrasions, clad only in a tattered white cloth.

On the chest of the cloth was the character “Prisoner,” and if one looked behind him, they would see the character “Death.” This was his current status.

A death row inmate.

And this place was none other than the legendary death row camp, where human lives were worth less than grass.

Peering into the shadows around the cell, he vaguely saw other figures, dressed just like him—fellow inmates awaiting death.

Seeing this, Li Dao muttered to himself, “It’s been a month… looks like I really was reborn.”

He didn’t want to accept this reality, but facts were facts, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

The reason he had fallen to this low could be summed up in one sentence: drinking caused trouble, and lust led to ruin.

One month ago, the Da Qian royal family held a palace banquet.

In this life, as a third-rank count, Li Dao was naturally on the guest list.

During the banquet, a sudden headache struck him, but with the emperor speaking atop the dais, he dared not leave. He thought to ease the pain with alcohol.

However, when the banquet began, his headache worsened, and he became intoxicated. He rose to leave, intending to sober up.

By accident, he wandered into a palace chamber.

Once inside, he was stunned.

A scene of pure whiteness greeted him, and before him stood a girl of breathtaking beauty and graceful figure.

At that moment, his headache vanished, but memories from his past life flooded back.

Drunk and overwhelmed by these sudden recollections, he lost control.

In a moment of impulse, he violated that girl’s innocence.

When he came to again, palace guards were escorting him before the Da Qian emperor.

He learned the identity of the girl whose purity he had defiled.

Princess Mingyue.

The most esteemed woman in the Da Qian dynasty after the empress, and the emperor’s beloved eldest daughter.

He vaguely remembered the emperor’s rage upon hearing that his cherished daughter had been dishonored by a fallen third-rank count—that the emperor wanted to execute his entire clan and subject him to the cruelest death.

Yet, to his surprise, it was Princess Mingyue herself who pleaded for his life.

Still, the emperor’s wrath persisted.

So, without violating the imperial decree, instead of eternal imprisonment in the heavenly dungeon, Li Dao was sent to the death row camp to await death.

To ensure his death would come swiftly, he was transported all the way from the capital to the northern frontier death row camp of the Da Qian dynasty.

This place bordered the northern barbarian lands, frequently embroiled in conflicts, and recent skirmishes indicated war might break out at any time.

Even ordinary soldiers stationed there lived precariously, let alone a prisoner locked in the death row camp.

Being confined here was practically a death sentence.

Wait to die?

But what if he wasn’t ready to die yet?

Was it easy to be reborn once?

“Meal time! Meal time!”

Lost in thought, Li Dao heard a shout outside the cell door.

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After a moment of silence, the previously quiet cell erupted into chaos.

“Give me food! I’m starving, just one bite!”

“Move aside, don’t block the way!”

“Get lost, or I’ll kill you, believe it or not!”

“Kill me? We’re all death row inmates here—who’s afraid of whom?”

“...”

Soon, footsteps approached, and several guards in armor entered carrying wooden buckets.

“Quiet down and line up. One at a time. Anyone who causes trouble or keeps shouting won’t get any food.”

Seeing rough, blackened hands reach through the bars, the guards impatiently slammed wooden spoons against the iron door several times.

Instantly, the prisoners fell silent.

They knew this was serious.

Ancient death row inmates were like those stripped of political rights and sentenced to death in Li Dao’s previous life—devoid of human rights.

Not getting a few meals was nothing; even if beaten to death, no one would collect their bodies, and the soldiers who killed them might only get a day in solitary confinement.

Such punishments were comparable to offenses like public urination.

One could imagine how cheap lives were in the death row camp.

When the food was brought around, Li Dao took his small bowl and joined the line.

If he did not want to die, he had to eat; only by staying full could he hope to survive.

How long he would live was uncertain—he could only take it one step at a time. Better to cling to life than die honorably.

The line moved forward until it was his turn.

A ladle of plain water and a palm-sized, grayish-yellow flatbread—this was the daily ration for inmates.

After a month in this place, Li Dao had grown accustomed to it.

He accepted the food and found an empty spot to sit.

Examining the hard bread, he tested its texture. It was so tough that biting it would likely break his teeth.

As before, he soaked the bread in water, waiting for it to soften before eating.

The guards quickly left after distributing the meals.

As Li Dao prepared to eat, a tall figure suddenly cast a shadow over him.

“Kid, give me your food.”

Li Dao looked up to see a burly man at least six foot three standing before him.

A long scar ran across the man’s face, making him look especially fierce.

His eyes were bloodshot, greed shining as he fixed his gaze on the softened bread in Li Dao’s bowl.

For a man like him, a palm-sized flatbread was barely enough to fill a gap, let alone satisfy his hunger.

What to do when one’s own food isn’t enough?

Naturally, seize others’ meals to fill one’s stomach.

Li Dao was this man’s target.

The man thought this scrawny, pale-faced youth looked easy to bully and unlikely to resist.

And indeed, Li Dao did not resist but lowered his head in silence.

“Haha, smart kid,” the man said with a grin, crouching to grab the bread.

Several inmates witnessed this but did not intervene, their expressions ranging from mockery to indifference to amusement.

No one pitied Li Dao.

This was the code of the death row camp—reality in its rawest form.

Survival of the fittest.

They didn’t pity Li Dao; if anything, they envied the man for acting first, for if they had moved first, the bread would have belonged to them.

The man scooped up the bowl, sneering, “Kid, don’t say I’m bullying you. Since you’re sensible, I’ll watch over you in this cell. But you better hand over half your food from now on, got it?”

Seeing Li Dao remain silent, the man’s face darkened; he raised his hand to slap him.

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Suddenly, the man felt a chilling sensation in his heart.

At that moment, Li Dao looked up.

In his right hand was a sharp object, which he swiftly thrust toward the man’s face.

*Thwip!*

A sound of flesh being pierced.

Silence fell, then a piercing scream echoed through the cell.

When everyone snapped back to reality, the man had already dropped the bowl and was trembling, clutching his face and screaming in pain.

A sharp wooden stick had somehow pierced his left eye, blood streaming down his cheek in a grisly sight.

But it wasn’t over.

After blinding the man in one eye, Li Dao swiftly looped the chains binding his hands around the man’s neck and yanked hard backward, causing the man to fall.

Then, Li Dao pressed both feet onto the man’s shoulders, pulling the chains with all his might.

The man, ignoring the pain in his eye, struggled desperately against the chains around his neck.

Losing one eye was grievous, but having one’s neck constricted could be fatal.

Still, no matter how hard the man struggled, it was futile.

Above him stood a slender youth exerting every ounce of strength; veins bulged on both his arms.

“Spare me... uh...” the man gasped, life slipping away.

Li Dao’s face was expressionless, numb as he tightened the chains, trembling from exertion but offering no mercy.

He knew if the man lived this time, next time it would be him who died. He didn’t want to die; so the man had to.

Time passed.

The man’s struggles weakened, his face flushed from red to purple.

At last, he succumbed, dying with profound resentment.

He never expected to be killed by a frail young man.

Meanwhile, Li Dao did not loosen the chains until he was certain the man had died.

“*Huff,*” Li Dao exhaled deeply, lying back and staring at the dark ceiling, murmuring, “Never thought killing someone would be this exhausting.”

He felt no revulsion often spoken of after killing.

As an adult, he had heard of places like this prison and read news of condemned criminals in his past life.

He had always assumed the worst of people.

So before entering the death row camp, he had steeled himself for all possibilities, including being forced to kill.

His month in the camp had proven his preparations were justified.

He was not the first to have his food stolen.

In the past month, he had witnessed seven or eight inmates starve to death or perish from weakness after having their food taken.

He had been lucky to last a month before becoming a target.

For this reason, when the burly man tried to seize his food, Li Dao was prepared to fight for his life.

For now, he had won—protecting both his food and his life.

He glanced at the corpse and removed the chains from the man’s neck.

The chains had left a deep purple bruise on the man’s thick neck from the force.

Standing, Li Dao approached the broken bowl on the ground.

Water had soaked into the dirt; only a soaked flatbread remained.

He did not disdain it, picking it up and scanning the surroundings before slipping quietly to a corner.

As soon as he sat down, the other inmates scattered as if they’d seen a ghost.

Killing was easy here; most inmates had killed before, some many times—after all, only those condemned to death ended up here.

But the ability to kill calmly and silently made one most feared.

Because no one knew when such a person might suddenly erupt into violence.

Li Dao welcomed their reactions; at least for now, it seemed no one would trouble him again anytime soon.