Douluo Continent: The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda? A Soul Beast Pagoda!

Chapter 64 Please pick this up for me, thank you.

Unbeknownst to Tang San, his beloved teacher was currently in the dungeon of the Spirit Hall branch in Notting City.

This place is perpetually dark, filled with the stench of mold, excrement, and rust.

Unidentified dark water stains clung to the walls, and the dim oil lamp cast flickering shadows, making everything appear distorted and eerie.

"Let me out! You bunch of short-sighted fools! I am an elder of the Spirit Hall!"

A hoarse roar came from the third cell, echoing through the narrow passageway.

Yu Xiaogang gripped the thick iron bars with both hands, his fingernails curling up from the force, drawing blood. He had been shouting like this for days, his voice was hoarse, his eyes were bloodshot, his hair was disheveled and stuck to his forehead, and his black robe was stained.

"Once I get out of here, I'll make you pay! Bibi Dong won't let you get away with this!"

The only response he received were the faint groans or snores of other prisoners coming from the end of the corridor, and the echo of his own shouts.

At the entrance to the dungeon, two guards stood idly against the wall.

"Tsk, hasn't this guy complained of being tired yet?" The younger guard, Peter, picked his ear, looking impatient. "It's been days, and it's the same few lines every day. Elder, elder, if he were truly an elder, would he be locked up here?"

John, the older one, yawned: "Whatever. Inspector Matthewov instructed us to take good care of him. Just make sure he doesn't starve, and as for the rest—let him ask for whatever he wants."

Peter's eyes darted around, and he suddenly grinned mischievously. "Hey, John, I have an idea that can shut this guy up."

John glanced at him: "What kind of crazy idea are you coming up with now?"

"Remember that guy on the second level of the dungeon?" Peter lowered his voice, winking. "That guy's always complaining about being bored, right? Send him a companion, and I guarantee—"

John was taken aback at first, then smiled knowingly: "You mean—send our master down to keep that guy company?"

"That's right!" Peter rubbed his hands together. "Who told him to be so disruptive? It's time for him to experience some of the hardships of life."

The two exchanged a smile and reached a consensus.

They picked up a heavy bunch of keys and jingled as they walked toward Yu Xiaogang's cell.

Hearing footsteps, Yu Xiaogang looked up sharply, hope igniting in his eyes: "Are you going to let me out? I knew it! You're still afraid after all—"

The prison door slammed open.

Peter and John walked in and each took Yu Xiaogang's arm from either side.

"What are you doing?! Let go! I am an elder! How dare you—!" Yu Xiaogang struggled in panic, but his strength was no match for the two guards.

"Quiet down, sir." John said with a forced smile. "I'll get you a quiet and comfortable private room."

Without saying a word, the two men dragged Yu Xiaogang out of the cell and down the deeper steps.

The deeper you go, the more humid and cold the air becomes, and the stronger the stench grows.

The oil lamps on the wall were even more sparse, and the light was so dim that it was almost impossible to see the steps underfoot.

"Where are we going? Where are you taking me?!" Yu Xiaogang's voice began to tremble.

No one answered.

Finally, they stopped in front of an even heavier iron gate. A huge lock hung on the gate.

Peter took out his key and opened the door, only to find himself in even deeper darkness.

"Go on in." John gave him a strong push.

Yu Xiaogang stumbled into the cell, nearly falling over. He turned around in horror, only to see the iron door slam shut in front of him, the sound of the chains sliding particularly jarring in the silence.

"Enjoy yourself, Master!" Peter's voice came through the iron gate, laced with undisguised malice. "By the way, the people inside might be a bit enthusiastic, so please bear with them!"

The footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

Yu Xiaogang slumped to the ground, his heart pounding. He looked around; this cell was larger than the one above, but also darker.

Moldy straw was piled up in the corner, and in addition to the usual stench, there was a strong, masculine odor and—some other indescribable smell.

"Who—who's here?" he asked, trembling.

A rustling sound came from the darkness.

A figure sat up from the haystack. By the faint light filtering through the crack in the door, Yu Xiaogang could barely make out that it was an extremely burly man, shirtless, with bulging muscles, and a hideous scar running diagonally from his forehead to his chin, which looked like a centipede crawling in the dim light.

The man rubbed his eyes, yawned widely, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"New here?" His voice was rough and hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing.

"Who are you? Who are you?" Yu Xiaogang shrank back, his back against the cold wall.

The man stood up, stretched his neck, and his bones cracked.

He approached Yu Xiaogang, and a huge shadow completely enveloped the frail master.

"Me?" Scarface squatted down, casually placing a rough hand on Yu Xiaogang's trembling shoulder. "I was arrested by those busybodies from the Spirit Hall for getting into a group fight. This scar is from that time."

He pointed to the scar on his face with his other finger, grinned, revealing even more yellow teeth: "The other inmates here call me Scarface. What about you? What did you do to get in here?"

The thick, warm hand on his shoulder, covered in sweat and grime, made Yu Xiaogang feel nauseous.

He wanted to break free, but dared not. The other person's physique and fierce aura instilled in him an instinctive fear.

He forced himself to remain calm, striving to maintain the dignity of a "master": "I—I am Yu Xiaogang. The world—the world calls me a master. I have been wronged! I possess the Spirit Hall Elder's Token; I am a true elder! How dare these fools—"

"Elder?" Scarface interrupted him, a hint of undisguised mockery and disdain flashing in his eyes.

His right hand, which was resting on Yu Xiaogang's shoulder, slid down seemingly casually and quietly pressed against the belt buckle. Then, "accidentally," he touched it.

"bite."

A small, metallic object slipped from his waist and landed on the stone slab between the two men with a crisp sound.

Yu Xiaogang looked over subconsciously.

It was a key. An ordinary-looking key, but one that seemed powerful enough to open the prison door.

"Hey, it fell." Scarface feigned surprise, but instead of immediately picking it up, he patted Yu Xiaogang on the shoulder. "Brother, can you do me a favor and pick it up?"

Yu Xiaogang's gaze was fixed on the key, his heart pounding in his chest.

key!

He suddenly looked up at Scarface, his eyes gleaming with wild joy: "This—this is the key to the prison door?"

"Scarface, you—you can come and go as you please?"

Scarface burst into hearty laughter, the sound echoing through the cell: "That's right! I know this place like the back of my hand. I've taken care of everyone, from top to bottom. I can come and go as I please, just like coming home!"

He leaned closer, his pungent breath hitting Yu Xiaogang's face: "What, trying to get out?"

"Yes! Of course I want to!" Yu Xiaogang's voice trembled with excitement. "Brother Scarface, you—you can take me with you out of here! If I can get out, I'll repay you handsomely! Gold soul coins, soul tools, anything!"

"No problem, no problem!" Scarface patted his chest. "We're all brothers in need, helping each other out is only right!"

He pointed to the keys on the ground: "Could you pick them up for me first?"

"Okay! Okay!" Yu Xiaogang didn't suspect anything and quickly bent down to reach for the key that was right in front of him.

Just as his fingertips were about to touch the cold metal.

Suddenly, a pair of thick, iron-like arms wrapped tightly around his waist from behind!

"Knife—Scarface?" Yu Xiaogang froze, an extremely ominous premonition instantly overwhelming him. "What—what are you doing?"

Scarface did not answer.

His arms tightened, almost breaking Yu Xiaogang's ribs. Hot, sweaty breath sprayed onto the back of Yu Xiaogang's neck, giving the latter goosebumps.

Then, a deep, hoarse voice, carrying a chilling mix of laughter and desire, whispered in Yu Xiaogang's ear: "It's alright, brother—"

"Very soon—"

"Just bear with it—"

Yu Xiaogang's pupils suddenly contracted to the size of a pinhead.

"What are you going to do?!" His voice suddenly became shrill, filled with undisguised fear.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

He began to struggle frantically, his thin body twisting in Scarface's iron grip, but it was like an ant trying to shake a tree.

"No—!! No! Let me go!"

"Please spare me! I beg you! Scarface! I was wrong! I'll give you money! Lots and lots of money!"

"Help! Someone help me!!"

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