The prison was filled with noise and bustle, but Feng Xue incessantly dug his way to survival. As the passage behind him slowly filled with rubble and soil, Feng Xue could barely hear the sounds of the outside world; only the vibrations from the ground inford him that the chaos within the prison walls had not yet subsided.
The narrow passage was not spacious and only just wide enough for Feng Xue to move forward. It was fortunate that as an Identity, he no longer needed to breathe, otherwise with such a thod of digging, he would have suffocated before reaching the sewer.
Typically, such dark and confined spaces could easily invoke claustrophobia, and even with easy breaths, a normal person would feel intense oppression and discomfort after just ten minutes.
Feng Xue was able to endure not because his spirit was particularly tenacious, but because he held the spoon from Shawshank.
Although this piece of equipnt could not detect living things, a scouting radius of one hundred ters nevertheless widely expanded Feng Xue’s field of vision.
It was like being in solitary confinent but being allowed to watch television; you could only watch the soundless "Man and Nature," but the open view and bright environnt alone were enough to mitigate the ntal stress caused by seclusion.
However, a range of one hundred ters was ultimately not very large, and Feng Xue could only determine that the prison doors had been blasted open, most of the cell bars had been destroyed, and apart from this, his Physical Avatar had not disappeared yet.
Actually, by now Feng Xue could completely relax, because even if his clone were exposed, clearing the tunnel behind him, filled as it was, would still present significant difficulty. And considering the narrowness of the tunnel, at most the person coming down could only carry a handgun.
Regarding the arrival of a digger...
By the ti the digger could reach where this cell was located, Feng Xue would have already dug through to the sewer.
"But even a handgun could be dangerous," Feng Xue shook his head and, gathering his strength, continued digging. However, a tearing agony soon transmitted from under his ribs.
The body of an Identity was very strange in both Infinite City and reality. If you called it a fleshly body, they didn’t need to eat or drink water, nor eliminate waste, and didn’t even need to breathe.
But if you said it was a digital body, it bled, felt fatigue, had various organs, and followed human anatomical principles, and could even eat and drink.
Feeling a faint pain and a slick sensation under his ribs, Feng Xue knew his movents while digging were sowhat excessive—or rather, that he had rested just a bit too long.
Relying on compression to stop the bleeding was ultimately not a proper dical thod. A 60-milliter-long incision, even if it avoided most vital areas, was still rather dangerous.
After a brief pause followed by sudden movent, the blood scab that had just begun to set was again torn open.
But Feng Xue also knew clearly that he could not stop.
...
"Boss, the intruders have been repelled, we’ve lost a total of..."
"I don’t want to know how much we’ve lost; right now I just want to know how the East Sector Two is doing!" Jeston forcefully interrupted Jones’ report, because he knew very well that if nothing had gone wrong there, Jones would have started with the matters he cared about and not dwelled on these small issues that could be settled with so money.
"Well, boss, the invader blew up the isolation wall in East Sector Two, and the ghosts that were imprisoned there collectively escaped, but..."
Jeston’s eyes instantly turned blood-red as he listened, but fortunately heard the turning point in Johnson’s statent, and imdiately said:
"But what?"
"But Mr. Han ii has not escaped; he is still in his cell." Jones’s words carried a hint of surprise, and not just for him—Jeston was also amazed. Was Han ii addicted to prison life? To not run during such a pri opportunity?
However, it was good news that he had not run. Jeston imdiately said,
"Don’t move a muscle. I’m bringing people over. No one is to approach Han ii before I arrive!"
"Yes, boss!"
The communication cut off, and Jeston turned to the security guard beside him, his eyes bloodshot:
"Bring the family and co with . It’s too dangerous to keep Han ii, this money printer, there. I shouldn’t have considered Fran’s opinion; I should’ve moved him to another place earlier!"
Although he said this, Jeston was well aware that if it wasn’t for the fact that Han ii had missed such a good opportunity to escape, he wouldn’t have been comfortable relocating him either, as, after all, the safest among his properties was the prison.
...
Ten minutes later, Jeston arrived at the East Block Prison with his bodyguards, responsible for ensuring his personal safety. His expression darkened at the sight.
The outer walls of the prison had been half blown away, with twisted steel rebars and flattened corpses. It looked more like the intense battlefield of a war-torn country than a prison that had been breached.
Yet in the ruins, eerily reminiscent of a Hell Scroll, a figure dressed in formal attire and holding a dictionary ca into Jeston’s view from within a cell that was relatively intact.
Despite the wrinkles in the suit and the shackles still on the person’s limbs, the scene mysteriously carried a sense of sanctity. If a stream of sunlight were to pour through the narrow window at that mont, it would have undoubtedly beco a masterpiece to be passed down through the ages.
Even Jeston, who had no interest in art, couldn’t hide the shock in his heart at the sight of this image, though it was unknown how much of that was the joy of regaining sothing once lost.
However, Jeston quickly recovered from his shock and waved his arms vigorously, "Quick! Quick! Bring Mr. Han ii out; we need to move imdiately!"
The bodyguards wasted no ti looking for keys. Instead, they fired several shots directly at the lock, and imdiately opened the iron door. Just as they were helping Feng Xue rise to her feet, the shackles on her right foot suddenly snapped and fell to the ground.
The scene froze in that instant...
...
"Huff... huff..." Beneath the ground, buried almost alive, Feng Xue gasped for air. Although she didn’t need to breathe, the residual human instinct still compelled her to use such actions to soothe the fatigue of her body.
She couldn’t rember how long she’d been digging, only deducing that she had been at it for at least four hours, given she was about a ter away from the escape route. Her physical avatar had already been sacrificed, and now, as the ground began to shake once more, it seed to signal the countdown to her escape’s failure.
Biting down hard, Feng Xue forced her arms to move again. As she did, the once easier-to-dig soil slowly disappeared, replaced by the solid "wall" of concrete and stones.
Faced with this scenario, Feng Xue didn’t feel the slightest bit discouraged, because even without the perceptive abilities that ca with Shawshank’s spoon, she knew that on the other side of this wall was the path to her survival!
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