Sir! Don't close the net!

Li Yili sighed deeply, looked at the scales in her hand, and then glanced at the statue not far away, its body half-buried in mud.

evening.

Simon carefully carried the package and, urged on by Mamaka and other prisoners, cautiously moved toward the newly built circular platform.

“Hmph…how realistic,” Mamaka glanced at Gajek, who was huddled in the corner, and sneered.

Ghajek, huddled in the corner, remained silent.

He knew Mamaka's little secret.

Since everyone believes in the King in Yellow, you no longer need to offer me tribute.

Only a fool would believe such a claim.

The prisoners are forced to either pay tribute to the King in Yellow or to the meat-eating chain like Mamaka. It seems like a democratic choice, but the high-ranking prisoners don't actually have the option of not paying tribute.

The prisoners must pay tribute to the King in Yellow because Mamaka and the other prisoners in the carnivore chain have done so. If they don't do the same, they are going against Mamaka. What will happen to those who are not "companions" of these carnivore chains? Despair.

But what can you get by offering tribute to the King in Yellow?

You get nothing.

Gajek had already concluded from his observations over this period that the King in Yellow was a more ruthless being than the criminals in the carnivore chain; they gained nothing but...

It was simply that the King in Yellow ignored them.

So here's the question: what do they use to pay tribute to the King in Yellow? If they pay tribute to the King in Yellow... how do they survive? They still have to rely on smuggling routes controlled by criminals in the meat supply chain.

After going around in circles, they still have to rely on prisoners like Mamaka who are part of the meat-eating chain.

As for the tribute to the King in Yellow...

Who can guarantee that those tributes were taken by the King in Yellow?

The centralized and fair platform was built in the place where they usually gathered to listen to the warden's speeches and commands, which is the so-called first level. Would these prisoners at the bottom of the food chain dare to stay at the bottom level to confirm when the King in Yellow appears?

They even had to retreat to their own floors and their own cells half an hour in advance.

For half an hour, so many offerings were exposed to the eyes of Mamaka and his carnivorous criminals.

Rather than betting that the Yellow King and his allies would respect the King of the Yellow and rush to divide the tributes, he might as well bet that Teresa's prison would be destroyed, since it wouldn't make any difference anyway.

"Let's go, Simon—"

Gajek grabbed Simon's shoulder and pulled him up the stairs.

They only know what they want to know, only see what they want to see, only hear what they want to hear, and then struggle arduously and meaninglessly.

This was all the happiness there was in Teresa Prison.

Don't have any expectations of the King in Yellow.

Do not call upon Him.

A yellow figure appeared silently under the starlight.

Chapter 18 Do Not Summon the King in Yellow

"Hey, hey, hey—is it really out?!"

Mamaka, who was perched in the stairwell, raised his head and exclaimed in disbelief.

A tall, slender figure stood silently on the lawn. The yellow raincoat was dazzling under the brilliant yet dim starlight. Its jagged shape and torn hem fluttered in the evening breeze. The distorted shadow looked like a strange hand reaching out towards the altar filled with offerings.

Mamaka now understands why the prisoners at the top are so afraid of the King in Yellow, and don't even make any demands, but devoutly offer tributes every day.

Without faith, one cannot survive in Teresa's prison.

One cannot find peace of mind in Teresa's prison without reverence for the absurd.

The appearance of the King in Yellow can indeed destroy a sense of security and plunge people into fear.

"The Iron Maiden hasn't come out yet..."

"Even the dogs didn't come out."

"This guy... doesn't seem that strong."

A hoarse voice, yet concealing an uncontrollable tyranny, spread along the dark corridor. One by one, lights appeared in the darkness, and one after another, strangely-looking prisoners leaned out from behind the walls.

Mamaka also opened his horrifying jaw and grinned maliciously in the direction of the King in Yellow.

But they are not the prisoners at the bottom of the food chain.

They have always been objects of faith, and they have always been objects of awe and reverence for the absurd.

They also noticed that the King in Yellow did not possess that overwhelming, abyss-like pressure that made people afraid to look into it.

Li Yili had a toothache, and the stares coming from all directions felt like they were tearing him apart.

When Li Yili saw the newly built platform piled with all sorts of things, resembling an altar, she already understood the situation.

While it was painful, it also gave me a sense of relief.

The problem was that this matter was really difficult to handle. The tribute was clearly meant for him, and he didn't think that these low-ranking prisoners would be so generous as to give away their things. So it was more likely that the high-ranking prisoners were offering tribute to him, the King in Yellow, under the coercion and enticement of the low-ranking prisoners.

These low-ranking prisoners mostly want to share the tribute he gives them. If they succeed even once, the King in Yellow will become a mere figurehead. Even if he stands in front of the low-ranking prisoners' cells during a dangerous time, they will not be afraid.

As for a sense of security...

It's not that complicated.

I just suddenly felt like expressing my feelings.

What? Is this all you've got?

Within that absurd body lay no incomprehensible soul born of absurd beliefs, only simple desires that could be seen through at a glance, making it no different from the inhabitants of Guoweidun.

A gentle evening breeze was blowing.

Many low-ranking prisoners swaggered out of the corridor, and the cells surrounded their newly built altar. They didn't make a sound, but smiled with utter contempt as they picked and chose the offerings to the King in Yellow.

The King in Yellow is like a scarecrow standing in a rice paddy; he seems intimidating, but in reality, he has no power whatsoever and can only helplessly watch the audacious crow feast in the rice paddy.

With the first few daring individuals taking the plunge, the other prisoners who were still observing began to stir. But when they saw a prisoner pull out a piece of flesh covered in a white membrane from the offerings, Mamaka couldn't hold back any longer. It was Simon's flesh.

Although it was agreed that the offerings would be divided equally, everyone understood the principle of first come, first served, and those who went first had the right to choose.

Rebecca, clinging to the stairwell with her strong limbs, squinted and stared intently at the Yellow King, who stood motionless like a scarecrow.

According to her own plan, the moment the King in Yellow appears, she will unleash the awe-inspiring, elusive speed known as the Nightmare of Impossible to Capture, rushing towards the King in Yellow and tearing him to pieces.

But she couldn't make any movement. Just like an animal that can sense the coming of a natural disaster through subtle changes, she sensed that some terrible natural disaster was about to sweep through this place. If it weren't for the suppression of human rationality, she probably would have run away with her tail between her legs long ago.

Rebecca tensed up her body little by little.

She wanted to see clearly what would happen.

"Om-"

A very strange tremor swept out, and the grass that was swaying to the right in the evening breeze trembled slightly and then veered to the left, but the prisoners who were dividing up the tribute did not notice it.

That direction... a mine shaft?

Rebecca's body jerked violently, and by the time she realized what was happening, she had already run up to it.

Something... is coming!

"Damn it—get out of here—"

An arm thicker than a gorilla's arm slammed heavily into Mamaka's face, sending him flying backward and crashing heavily onto the stairs.

"asshole--"

Mamaka raised his head with a ferocious expression, but the absurd scene that came into view made the bloodshot in his eyes disappear instantly.

At some point, a viscous, oil-like liquid began to engulf the swaying grass. The prisoners, busy dividing the offerings, did not notice that the liquid, resembling that of the strange dog, had coiled around their legs. And it was probably not their imagination; the prisoners seemed to have shrunk a bit.

The viscous liquid is dragging the prisoners in!

A chill ran through Mamaka's heart.

"Get away!"

"This is my share! This is mine too!"

Mamaka clearly saw that the prisoners' pupils began to distort and split open, and their grotesque bodies began to flow with viscous liquid. Two prisoners were fighting over a piece of flesh, and the bodies of the prisoners even fused together.

A sigh snapped Mamaka out of his daze at the absurd scene before him. The King in Yellow, who had been standing motionless like a scarecrow, had appeared on their newly built altar for visiting offerings, gazing up at the starry sky. The starlight blurred the King in Yellow's face, and white mist drifted around him.

Before Mamaka could react, the viscous liquid began to boil, no longer silently eroding him, but crashing against the prisoner like waves.

Many of the lower-ranking prisoners snapped out of their daze at the offerings they usually received so easily, and the abnormal changes in their bodies caused them to scream uncontrollably.

"My body! What's happening to me?!"

"don't want--"

But the next second, one after another, enormous iron maidens rose from the viscous waves.

The time for the ban has come.

But the Iron Maidens did not open their hideous and terrifying bodies; instead, they pressed down as if welcoming something.

Li Yili raised her head and exhaled a breath of stale air.

"Ah...looks like I messed it up..."

"Boom boom boom—"

A massive hammer was raised from the viscous liquid and slammed down, instantly crushing the prisoners who were already mixed together.

Accompanied by neighing and flying tentacles, warhorses and knights raised their hideous bodies under the starlight, covered in viscous liquid, and charged towards the lower cells.

Since then, one thing has never happened again.

No one dares to summon the King in Yellow anymore.

Chapter Nineteen August Lynn Norton

The tender grass swayed in the breeze as Chris Dorf, leaning on his hoe, gazed at the rushing yet glistening Teresa Road.

"They did not ask you to save them."

"I know."

"They're even begging you to stay away from them."