IABI – Chapter 78 Psychic Ability User

The female zombie named A-Ran naturally couldn’t understand a word the warden was saying. Her eyes bulged, and she let out frenzied howls.

“Shh, shh.” The warden coaxed her softly, reaching out to touch her face. “Even though our rooms are well soundproofed, if you keep screaming like that, someone might start to suspect something. I’ve told you so many times already, you—”

“Argh!”

The warden quickly withdrew his hand. He had almost gotten his finger bitten off.

He looked down at his own fingers, then at the zombie who was still panting and groaning, completely unaware of herself. A faint sorrow flickered in his eyes.

“I suppose that’s true. A-Ran always loved to look pretty. Now that she thinks she’s ugly, she doesn’t want me touching her.”

The warden reached out again, this time gently caressing the zombie’s rotting face. The zombie tried her best to lift her head and bite her, but her limbs were tightly restrained, making it impossible. Her throat issued clearer and sharper growls in frustration.

“It’s alright,” the warden murmured. “As long as A-Ran is still here with me, that’s enough.”

The zombie’s facial flesh had almost completely fallen off, and her eyelids were gone—only the bluish-white eyes stared straight at the warden. The warden smiled faintly.

“You must be hungry. It’s about time for lunch.”

He turned and walked to a cooler at the end of the bed. When he opened it, a wave of cold air spilled out. Inside lay chunks of bloody flesh and several blood bags.

“Here, the weather’s so hot these days. Eating something cold will make you feel better.”

The warden took out a piece of meat. The cooler wasn’t a freezer, so blood still dripped from the flesh.

He carefully wiped it, then brought it to the zombie’s mouth.

The zombie lunged like a wild dog that had smelled meat, biting down viciously and tearing the flesh apart.

While avoiding the zombie’s snapping teeth, the warden glanced back into the cooler. Seeing how little was left, a cold glint flashed in his eyes.

“It’s about time to restock,” he murmured, “or A-Ran will go hungry.”

When the zombie finished her “meal,” the warden tried to wipe the blood from her lips, but after nearly getting bitten again, he gave up.

“Since you’re tired, rest now.”

He turned and walked out, closing the door behind her and shutting the zombie’s howls inside. Once outside, his face instantly returned to that of a cold, professional elite.

The warden sat before his computer, about to click on the button labeled Chief Guard. But after a moment’s hesitation, he switched to another communication line instead.

“Warden, what can I do for you?” a voice came through the computer.

“That person from earlier—has he been locked up properly?”

“Yes, he’s in solitary confinement now.”

The warden rubbed the ring on his finger, expressionless. “Attempting to escape is a grave offense, and it’s not his first time. Handle him tonight.”

There was a brief silence on the other end. “Understood, Warden. Shall we deliver him to your quarters again?”

“Of course,” he said softly. “I’ll pray for them—to cleanse their hearts and souls for the next life.”

“You’re truly merciful, Warden,” the voice said with reverence.

The warden smiled. “See to it, then.”

——

Meanwhile, Chi Xin and the others still had no idea what was happening elsewhere.

They followed Pei Jiade along the corridor, heading toward the so-called “Room Eight.”

Judging from Pei Jiade’s reaction when the warden mentioned that name earlier, this room clearly wasn’t just an ordinary guest room.

Chi Xin and Jiang Congyun clung to each other nervously, huddled behind one of the boys, quietly peeking at their surroundings.

The prison’s design resembled that of an eerie medieval fortress. The corridor walls were made of ancient stone, bare and undecorated, with barely any windows. The long hallway was dim and oppressive, lit only by faint slivers of sunlight coming from a small window at the corner.

Yu Xiang tried to make small talk. “Brother Pei, right? Your surname’s Pei?”

“Yes.” Pei Jiade didn’t even turn around.

“Brother Pei,” Yu Xiang said with a disarming grin, “we’re newcomers here and don’t know much. Why don’t you introduce us to this place a bit?”

Outsiders were always curious about this legendary prison, so his question didn’t sound out of place—if anything, it reinforced his image as a clueless rich kid.

Pei Jiade still didn’t look back. “There’s no point telling you anything. The most important thing to survive here is to discard yourself.”

He paused briefly, then added in an odd tone, “Besides, you probably won’t be here for long anyway.”

Those words—you probably won’t be here for long—echoed down the dark corridor, sending chills through everyone.

Yu Xiang pretended not to notice. “Come on, tell us. I’ll give you money, cigarettes—whatever you want.”

Pei Jiade fell silent.

Yu Xiang clicked his tongue and muttered, “Tch, fine, don’t say anything. What’s with this dump of a prison acting like it’s the imperial palace?”

That last part was genuine frustration.

But since it was such a brainless comment, Pei Jiade only ignored him further.

Behind him, the four quietly exchanged glances. Chi Xin shook her head slightly.

She felt it wasn’t wise to push too far. Even though her instincts hadn’t yet warned her of danger, experience told her that any place capable of surviving independently was never as simple as it looked.

So they fell silent, following Pei Jiade quietly. The entire prison seemed to echo only with their footsteps.

Even the elevator was an old-fashioned one—just metal bars, no solid walls—like something straight out of a haunted house attraction.

The elevator creaked and groaned as it carried them to the sixth floor.

“This is the guest area,” Pei Jiade finally said. “Beyond here are the prison cells. The inmates are extremely dangerous. For your own safety, I advise you not to wander around.”

The corridor opened up into a wide, square structure. Countless rooms lined the four sides, encircling a large empty courtyard in the middle. When Chi Xin leaned forward to look down, she saw that only the sixth floor had solid doors. The higher levels—seventh, eighth, and ninth—had thick iron bars for doors instead. Those must be the actual cells.

The place was eerily silent. Perhaps the prisoners were all out doing labor.

Jing Xiubai spoke up, “I heard Donglubao Prison isn’t just the most secure prison in the world—it’s also one of the largest. But from the looks of these cells, it doesn’t seem that big.”

Pei Jiade gave him a sidelong glance. “You seem to know quite a bit.”

“My father’s job is somewhat related to the field,” Jing Xiubai lied smoothly. “So I pay attention to such information.”

Perhaps out of a faint sense of camaraderie, Pei Jiade’s tightly sealed mouth finally loosened.

“This is only the West Wing,” he explained. “Originally, there were four similar sections, enough to hold tens of thousands of prisoners. But fewer people have been sent here in recent years. For the past few months, not a single new inmate has arrived. The warden ordered the unused areas to be converted into farms and fields—to reduce dependence on outside supplies.”

“Are inmates assigned to areas randomly?” Jing Xiubai asked.

“No.” Pei Jiade pressed his lips together. “As for the East Wing… trust me, you don’t want to see the people there.”

He led them to a door marked with a large “8.” Pulling out a heavy ring of keys, he unlocked it.

“Here we are,” Pei Jiade said, stepping aside. “Go in.”

Maybe because he’d worked as a prison guard too long, his tone unconsciously carried the air of escorting prisoners.

Chi Xin didn’t mind. She entered first. The room was simple—four beds, a small attached bathroom.

Rather than a guest room, it looked more like a slightly upgraded prison cell.

Noticing their unspoken judgment, Pei Jiade explained, “There aren’t any real guest rooms here. This is the best you’ll get if you want something comfortable.”

He was about to close the door when Chi Xin suddenly called out, “Wait.”

He actually stopped and turned to her.

“It’s so dark and gloomy here,” she said softly, one finger twirling a strand of her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. “It’s kind of scary with just the few of us. Are there any other residents? If there are, maybe we could visit them?”

She knew exactly how to use her appearance—her delicate, pitiful act was flawless.

Pei Jiade showed no sign of suspicion. His lips stiffened slightly as he replied, “I’m sorry. It’s only you here.”

“Oh.” Chi Xin’s face fell in disappointment.

“Just bear with it,” Jiang Congyun chimed in gently. Her soft demeanor was completely different from Chi Xin’s, but equally persuasive. “Could you at least tell us what we should watch out for here?”

“There’s nothing in particular,” Pei Jiade said after a pause. “The inmates return around five in the afternoon. It’ll get noisy then. Just follow instructions and don’t try anything funny.”

After saying that, as if realizing he’d revealed too much, a flicker of regret flashed in his eyes. He left behind a curt “Rest well,” turned around, and shut the door.

The next second, the sound of a key turning in the lock came from outside.

Yu Xiang leapt to her feet, ran to the door, and banged on it hard. “Hey! You—whatever-your-name-is! What’s the meaning of this? We’re guests, not prisoners! Open up right now!”

“This is the warden’s order. It’s not very safe at night. This is for your own protection.” Pei Jiade’s voice came through the intercom outside the door. “Please stay in here for now. If there’s anything you need, you’ll be informed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? So we’re just ducks waiting for the butcher’s knife, and we’re supposed to stretch our necks out willingly?” Yu Xiang kicked the door in anger. “This godforsaken place—unbelievable!”

Pei Jiade’s voice faded away completely.

Jing Xiubai turned to Chi Xin. “Is he gone?”

“Gone.” Chi Xin listened carefully. “There’s no one outside.”

Yu Xiang’s furious expression immediately faded. She went back and sat down on the bed.

Jing Xiubai began inspecting the room in detail. “Don’t worry, there aren’t any cameras here.”

The four of them sat facing each other on two beds, none of them speaking for a while.

“This place is strange in every way,” Chi Xin said, organizing her thoughts. “They call it the safest prison in the world, yet as soon as we arrived, we ran into a prisoner who’d escaped. And the rest of them are all working freely outside—sure, they have guards, but aren’t they afraid those people will band together and revolt? And that warden—he gives me a very bad feeling.”

The warden, at least on the surface, still appeared human—polite, even cultured—but Chi Xin wanted to warn the others to be careful of him.

“Maybe it’s not that they’re unafraid of the prisoners escaping,” Yu Xiang said, “but that escape is impossible. There’s no boat. Anyone who runs will drown. Faced with that, they’d rather stay here and farm.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jing Xiubai said. “Chi Xin’s right. Even if they’re not afraid of escape, letting all the prisoners out to work at once—aren’t they afraid of rebellion? Whatever the case, this place isn’t what the rumors say. But maybe the rumors were exaggerated.”

“No matter how exaggerated, a lie doesn’t spread worldwide and get universally accepted,” Jiang Congyun said. “They must have some kind of method—something that controls the prisoners.”

That hit the mark.

Even in a world as absurd as this movie’s, Chi Xin didn’t believe the warden relied on the prisoners’ morality—especially when this prison was said to hold only the most vicious criminals.

There had to be something hidden they didn’t yet understand.

They discussed it a bit longer, but the information they had was too little to go on. In the end, they decided to stay put and see what the warden planned next.

After all, they wouldn’t be kept here doing nothing for no reason.

Once the decision was made, they relaxed slightly and began brushing off the salt crystals that had surfaced on their skin after the seawater had dried.

They couldn’t change clothes, but thankfully there was running water in the bathroom, and Chi Xin had plenty of toiletries. Everyone cleaned up and felt a bit more refreshed.

Although the future was uncertain, none of them looked particularly worried.

A little after five in the evening, noise broke out outside.

Their room had no windows, so they couldn’t see, only hear the clamorous noise echoing through the halls—it sounded like the prisoners were being herded back to their cells.

“Quiet! Quiet!”

Guards shouted to maintain order. When that didn’t work, a gunshot split the air.

Bang!

The noise outside died down considerably.

“Everyone back in your cells! No unnecessary movement!” one guard barked. “Anyone who acts up loses a hand!”

It wasn’t a church—it was a prison—so Chi Xin wasn’t surprised at their brutality.

Once the prisoners returned, the empty fortress of a building felt a little less lifeless.

Not long after, someone knocked on the door of Room Eight. The person outside didn’t wait for a response—just made a perfunctory announcement, then opened a small hatch at the bottom of the door.

A tray was pushed through.

“Well, isn’t that nice. The ducks waiting to be slaughtered get dinner,” Yu Xiang said sarcastically, but still went forward to take it.

The person outside ignored his mockery and, once the tray was taken, shut the hatch again.

Yu Xiang kicked at it—it wouldn’t budge.

Clicking his tongue, he brought the tray to the table. It held four bowls of mashed potatoes, covered with some unknown sauce.

It looked thoroughly unappetizing.

Of course, they hadn’t planned on eating it anyway. To avoid suspicion, they poured all four bowls down the toilet.

“Same as on the Gobi,” Jing Xiubai said. “We’ll take turns on watch tonight. We’ll act tomorrow after we’ve seen what happens. Chi Xin and Jiang Congyun’s disguises are excellent—they shouldn’t suspect you two. Yu Xiang and I will need to be more careful not to give ourselves away.”

“Got it,” Yu Xiang said, stretching exaggeratedly. “Guess I’ll have to enjoy being treated like a threat again. Ever since I started following Chi Xin, no one’s taken my fighting skills seriously anymore.”

“You have fighting skills?” Chi Xin asked, surprised.

“…” Yu Xiang fell silent, then had to admit, “Compared to you, probably not.”

It wasn’t their first night in a dangerous place. After deciding the watch order, the others went to sleep.

Chi Xin, being not quite human, needed little rest, and her sleep was always light—ready to react at the first sign of trouble.

She was assigned the second half of the night, and usually she’d have heard the others switch shifts—but tonight was different. When she suddenly opened her eyes, the entire room was pitch-black.

Something was wrong.

She hadn’t heard any of the earlier shift changes, and now all four of them were in their beds, fast asleep.

Her heart tightened. She got up and checked their breathing—steady and normal. They were simply asleep.

Frowning, she grabbed a small clock—the hands pointed to three.

Three in the morning. It should’ve been Yu Xiang’s watch.

Chi Xin looked toward the snoring Yu Xiang and went to shake her. “Yu Xiang?”

No response. Still deep asleep.

What’s going on? Were they drugged? But none of them had touched the dinner, and the room had no air vents or pipes. So when had they been affected?

Her earlier calm vanished. Chi Xin’s expression hardened, thoughts racing.

Just then, a faint, ethereal sound brushed against her mind.

It wasn’t clear whether it was a voice or music, male or female, near or far. It was soft—too soft—but it carried an uncanny pull that clouded her consciousness.

“What… is this…?”

Alarm bells blared in her head. She tried to shake her companions awake, but they lay still as breathing corpses, unresponsive to her pushes.

In the end, she too couldn’t resist the tide of drowsiness. Before she could act, her limbs went limp, and she collapsed to the floor—

—into sleep.

She awoke to the blaring of sirens.

The cold, hard floor beneath her startled her for a moment before the memories of the night rushed back.

Sitting up, she saw her companions beginning to stir as well.

“Ugh,” Jiang Congyun groaned, rubbing his forehead.

Yu Xiang and Jing Xiubai frowned in confusion. “Why did we fall asleep?” Yu Xiang muttered.

Then they noticed Chi Xin sitting on the floor and froze.

Jing Xiubai hurriedly pulled her up, his expression grave. “What happened last night?”

“We were hypnotized,” Chi Xin said quickly. “I don’t know exactly how. When I woke up, you were all asleep. Then I heard a sound—like a lullaby meant to put you under.”

“What kind of hypnotist can overpower even you?” Yu Xiang gaped.

“My mental resistance has always been weak,” Chi Xin admitted, thinking of the times Luo Chen had pulled her into illusions. She sighed. “At least everyone’s fine.”

“They must have a psychic among them,” Jing Xiubai said. “No ordinary hypnotist could do that. This is serious. The first night might’ve just been a test—but what about the second night? The third?”

His words made everyone tense.

If a single hypnosis could knock them all out, what could happen next time—if someone chose to act while they were unconscious?

But psychics were exceedingly rare. The only one Chi Xin knew of was Luo Chen, so hoping for outside help was unlikely.

“Tonight I’ll cast a healing spell over everyone’s minds,” Jiang Congyun said. “When we fought the zombie king, that seemed to block part of its psychic attack. Hopefully it’ll help again.”

Jing Xiubai nodded after a moment’s thought. “It’s worth trying.”

The incident had heightened Chi Xin’s alertness even further. Any trace of ease she’d felt before was gone.

A moment later, the sound of a key turning came from outside. All four looked toward the door as Pei Jiade’s impassive face appeared.

He blinked, surprised to see them already awake, then said, “The warden orders that you all come out as well.”

Before they figured out what was going on, the group dared not act rashly.

Chi Xin followed the others out and saw that all the prisoners had been led out of their cells. They were dressed in identical uniforms, standing upright before their barred doors with their hands clasped behind their backs.

When the people on the sixth floor—Chi Xin and her companions—appeared, hundreds of eyes turned toward them, filled with a mixture of curiosity, fear, and confusion.

“Keep quiet!” a guard shouted through a loudspeaker.

Pei Jiade didn’t ask them to mimic the prisoners’ stance. Chi Xin leaned on the railing and looked down. The warden was still wearing his neatly pressed handmade suit as he walked onto the open ground below, followed by a few guards.

From this distance, an ordinary person could hardly make out any movement from below—only vague silhouettes.

Except Chi Xin.

She saw the warden lift his head to survey the surroundings, and his gaze deliberately lingered on their group for several seconds.

If someone told her last night’s incident had nothing to do with this man, Chi Xin wouldn’t believe it. She deliberately unfocused her eyes, feigning blankness until the warden looked away.

Then he began to speak.

“It’s a new day,” his voice boomed through the loudspeaker. “Before we begin, I have to announce some bad news.”

Everyone fell silent.

“As you all know,” the warden continued, “there are people who repeatedly disregard discipline—sneaking away during labor time again and again. This not only violates our rules but also proves they are utterly unrepentant.”

The prisoners stood motionless and speechless. The warden scanned the crowd, the hands clasped behind his back twisting slightly, then continued coldly:

“Therefore, judgment has been passed. They no longer deserve to live in this world. They have already been executed.”

Chi Xin’s pupils shrank sharply.

“Is he out of his mind?” Yu Xiang muttered under her breath. “This is a prison, not a court! Who is he to decide whether someone’s reformed or not—and who gave him the right to kill them?”

Her voice burned with indignation, drawing a side glance from Pei Jiade.

Chi Xin patted her shoulder.

The warden seemed entirely unfazed by his own confession. Though his expression remained calm, Chi Xin noticed that his fingers never stopped moving.

“This doesn’t affect the rest of you,” he said. “Today’s labor continues as usual. Your hard work will be witnessed—by mankind, and by the gods above. This is your only path to redemption.”

Chi Xin thought his speech sounded disturbingly like something out of a cult indoctrination camp.

“Does everyone know what they’re supposed to do today?” the warden asked.

“Yes!” the prisoners shouted in unison.

The sound was passionate and resounding, but their faces were utterly blank.

The warden nodded with satisfaction. Finally releasing his tightly clasped hands, he gestured for the guards to take over and quickly turned to leave.

“What does he want us out here for?” Jing Xiubai asked Pei Jiade. “Are we supposed to join the labor too?”

Pei Jiade said flatly, “That’s the warden’s order.”

“Join the prisoners? Are you kidding?” Yu Xiang pointed at herself, furious. “We’re not criminals needing ‘redemption’!”

Pei Jiade’s face remained expressionless. “It’s the warden’s instruction.”

He sounded like a programmed robot.

Chi Xin knew reasoning with him was pointless. Yu Xiang only protested for the sake of appearances; when he realized nothing could be changed, he stomped down the stairs in frustration.

“Aren’t we supposed to be guests? Didn’t he say we’d wait for the ship to leave? We demand to see the warden!” Yu Xiang kept up his act as they went.

Pei Jiade didn’t even acknowledge him.

The prisoners, guided by guards, descended in orderly lines. Because of the building’s open structure, Chi Xin could see the whole crowd from above—a sea of identical plaid uniforms flooding downward, dizzying to the eyes.

She was about to look away as they neared the elevator when—

From among the descending figures, one person suddenly turned his head toward her and smiled.

Chi Xin froze.

That face—though dressed in a prisoner’s uniform—was unmistakable. Luo Chen!

He had followed them here again!

Chi Xin leaned forward to get a better look, but in the blink of an eye, the face was gone—swallowed by the crowd of identical backs.

“Chi Xin?” Jing Xiubai called softly when he noticed she had stopped walking.

She came back to herself and resumed walking, a mix of shock and unease clouding her heart.

Was that really Luo Chen, or just a hallucination caused by lingering effects of the hypnosis?  Either way, it made their situation far more complicated.

Inside the elevator, Jing Xiubai started probing again. “Yesterday when we came in, we saw pastures and farmlands. Which one will we be working in?”

Pei Jiade said, “Judging by your looks, you’ve probably never done any kind of work. For newcomers, the farmland is easier to adapt to.”

Jing Xiubai looked disappointed. “Isn’t there a third option?”

“The third one would be too difficult for you,” Pei Jiade replied.

So there were more types of “work” than just farming and livestock.

Jing Xiubai pressed, “What else is there? Maybe we’re qualified—we were top students in school, after all.”

Pei Jiade sneered. “Top students? This isn’t your campus anymore.”

Jing Xiubai bristled but Pei Jiade said nothing further. He led the four to the farmland, greeted a guard on duty, then turned to them.

“You’re not prisoners,” he said. “There’s no required workload. Just stay here and don’t wander around. If something happens, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Yu Xiang scoffed, “What, are you going to shoot us on sight if we wander off?”

Apparently done with his attitude, Pei Jiade left them there without a backward glance.

“What’s his problem? Acting all high and mighty just because he’s a guard captain!” Yu Xiang shouted after him, shaking his fist.

“Enough, enough,” Chi Xin whispered, tugging his sleeve. “He’s gone.”

“Oh.” Yu Xiang immediately lowered his arm.

When they turned around, they realized all the prisoners in the field had stopped working and were staring at them.

“What are you looking at? Get back to work!” a guard barked.

The farmland was surrounded by electrified fences, so no one seemed worried about them escaping. The guards didn’t even bother to keep a close watch.

Still, scattered glances kept sneaking toward them—mostly at Chi Xin and Jiang Congyun.

Chi Xin looked around, and when the guards weren’t watching, she approached one of the prisoners, who was hoeing the soil.

The burly, fierce-looking man actually blushed. “You—are you new here? When did they start bringing in female prisoners?”

Chi Xin smiled sweetly. “We’re not prisoners. Just got lost by accident. They’ll let us go soon.”

The man’s expression fell.

Chi Xin glanced at the soil. “What are you planting?”

“Potatoes and corn,” he answered honestly. “Easy to grow and they yield well. Most of the fields are like this. Over that way, there are some vegetables—but those are for the warden and his people. Not for the likes of us.”

Chi Xin looked in the direction he pointed—sure enough, there was a smaller vegetable garden beyond the fence.

Something felt off.

The man spoke without any trace of resentment. Just plain statement of fact.

How could a violent criminal be so indifferent to such obvious injustice?

She studied his face but saw no hint of emotion.

“I see,” she said lightly. “The guard captain said farm work is the easy job here—is that true?”

The man paused, assuming the captain had told her everything, and replied, “Yeah. The pasture’s harder—the animals there are tricky. The oil field’s even more dangerous…”

Chi Xin’s smile froze.

Behind her, the others exchanged shocked looks.

Did he just say oil field?

In a world suffering an energy crisis, this isolated prison had its own oil well?

Previously, it was said that Base A’s energy shortage came from a broken transport chain. The warden clearly had connections with the same organization that ran the lab… Chi Xin’s mind linked everything in a flash.

This discovery was huge. She became even more cautious and signaled Jing Xiubai with her eyes.

Jing Xiubai played along, feigning curiosity. “You’ve got an oil well here? What do you use it for? Doesn’t seem like you’d need that much energy.”

“Probably to sell,” the man muttered, less eager now. He bent back down to work. “That’s not for people like us to know. Don’t ask, don’t know.”

Jing Xiubai looked helplessly at Chi Xin.

She rolled her eyes but smiled again. “Then, big brother, do you at least know where the oil well is?”

The man froze. “You—”

“You there! What are you doing?”

A guard approached with his gun. “Get back to work! If you can’t finish your quota, how will you face the warden?”

Face the warden?

Chi Xin frowned at the strange phrasing. But the man before her—and the others who had been sneaking glances their way—instantly showed looks of shame, bowing their heads and working frantically.

After the guard left, Chi Xin asked quietly, “You’re all afraid of the warden, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” the man replied, still hoeing. “The warden is supreme. He deserves respect. He gave us the chance to repent—only heartless beasts would betray his trust.”

Chi Xin was speechless. “Even if he’s trying to help you, doesn’t killing prisoners at will seem… a bit—”

She hadn’t even finished when the man snapped his head up, glaring at her fiercely. “You can’t speak ill of the warden!”

Chi Xin shut her mouth immediately.

Something was seriously wrong here.

These prisoners had clearly been brainwashed.

Jing Xiubai tugged her sleeve subtly, and the four of them retreated from the field’s inner area.

“This is worse than we thought,” he murmured. “That oil well—we have to investigate. If it’s really the source of the market’s fuel, destroying it could stop the crisis.”

“I’m not done asking yet.” Chi Xin’s eyes shifted toward another group. “Wait for me.”

As before, her presence drew immediate attention. The prisoner she approached smiled politely, eager to answer her questions.

“How long have you all been here?” she asked.

The young man thought for a moment. “How long… maybe five or six years? Hard to tell—time doesn’t mean much here.”

“I see.” Chi Xin nodded casually. “After all this time, do you still contact your families?”

“Contact?”

The men exchanged blank looks. The young one replied, “Not for a long time. There’s nothing to say. The warden gave us a new life. We should repay him and stay here forever.”

“Yeah,” another added. “There’s no point contacting anyone outside.”

Chi Xin pressed her lips together. “So you don’t know… what’s happened to the outside world, do you?”