Sorcerer’s Handbook

“You can’t escape.”

In the infirmary, Sylphine was sweating profusely, her hands covered in fluids. Ashe let out a comfortable hmm, openly enjoying the medic’s labor.

“Don’t be so presumptuous. Maybe a miracle will happen!”

“Miracles are created by oneself, not by hoping for reality’s mercy.” Sylphine said calmly, “In the Bloodmoon Kingdom, any transportation, consumption, and even vagrancy requires verification by the Miracle Chip. It is quite impressive that you were able to completely remove the Miracle Chip from your body in prison, but it also means you have lost the qualifications to live in modern society. You will be unable to enjoy any public facilities or services – the only place you can sleep from now on is under a cardboard box on the overpass.”

“I can live in the wilderness.”

“What about salt? Shelter? Can you find prey? Not to mention, although there are indeed vagabond survivalists living in the wilderness, it’s only because the Heresy Court is too lazy to deal with them. After the ruckus you’ve caused, the Heresy Court will definitely find ways to hunt you down.”

“But it’s still better than waiting here to die.”

“The Blood Moon Tribunal only means possible death, while your choice to escape guarantees death.” Sylphine glanced at him, applying more force with her hands, “Now even the Human Rights Association has no reason to defend you all. The Heresy Court will issue a ‘Special Arrest Warrant’, allowing the Blood Mad Hunters to kill you escapees on site.”

Ashe let out a hmm. “At least I can choose how I die.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a tough person.”

Sylphine shook her head and used a tissue to wipe her hands. “Alright, the bleeding has basically stopped. By the way, what are you hmm-ing about over there?”

Lying on the bed in front of Sylphine was a severely injured cannibal. Its wounds were nearly gangrenous, forcibly scraped away by Sylphine before being wrapped in bandages, only then did its breathing gradually stabilize as it lay unconscious on the bed.

“Thanks. We don’t have anyone who can treat the living over there.” Ashe waved the earpick in his hand. “I was digging my ear and felt so comfortable I couldn’t help but cry out, sorry about that.”contemporary romance

“Digging your ears feels that good?”

“Maybe because I can dig while sitting down. As you know, the bathroom doesn’t even have chairs. Aside from a man’s thighs, there’s nowhere else to sit.” Ashe came over to check on Fernand Snow’s condition. “Will he be alright?”

“Cannibals have strong regenerative abilities. He’ll wake up after a few more hours.” Sylphine asked, “How did he get injured?”

When it came to this, Ashe was also helpless.

“If I said it’s because he looked at someone else, would you believe it?”

Half an hour ago, Ashe brought Fernand Snow to the lobby to register in the Register of Sinners, then prepared to lock the mayor in his room.

However, while registering, Fernand Snow glanced at Harvey who was in charge of the Register of Sinners. Harvey suddenly erupted, his fingernails abruptly turning into sharp gray claws that stabbed into the cannibal’s abdomen like spears.

Although Ashe barely managed to stop the enraged necromancer, he didn’t think the cannibal mayor would thank him after waking up.

In Shattered Lake Prison, a blank death was perhaps the most comfortable death.

The escape team had long known about the grudge between Harvey and Fernand Snow, and didn’t mind letting Harvey take his revenge, but only after they left – in theory, only the “Processor” of Shattered Lake Prison could receive the life signs of Fernand Snow, but what if?

For the same reason, after Ashe used Slash My Miracle to purify the chips of the five escapees, and Harvey used his necromancy book to control the “Processor” to add restrictions to all the prison guards, they didn’t kill anyone – they didn’t even hurt them, only restricted their range of movement.

It wasn’t because their morals were so high and mighty, but because they didn’t dare gamble. If the life characteristics of the guards were sent to the “Processor” in Caimon City after their deaths, alerting the Heresy Court, then not only would their escape fail, even leaving this Shattered Lake would be questionable.

But none of them had a healing spirit, though Harvey could suture wounds – for a necromancer, suturing corpses was also considered a professional skill.

However, Ashe didn’t dare let Harvey help stop Fernand Snow’s bleeding, so he came to find the medic for help.

Of course, in this process Ashe also didn’t lift the restrictions on the medic’s arcane energy, he only had the medic use gauze and bandages to stop the bleeding. Although the medic basically relied on spirits to heal, she still knew these basic treatments.

“It seems your companions are not very reliable.”

“Of course, I’m the only normal one on the team.”

“Hearing that makes me worry for your prison break journey.”

“Who wouldn’t say that? I’m responsible for leading the whole team to fly, but it’s still better than waiting here to die-”

“Do you really think so?”

Ashe looked at the crow mask in surprise. Sylphine didn’t avoid his gaze, staring straight at him.

“Do you really feel like your only option in Shattered Lake Prison is death? In less than a month, you’ve come up with feasible ways to escape, establishing your position in the prison… Even if, as you say, someone outside the prison has framed you, do you really only have this path to take?”

“Compared to escaping Shattered Lake Prison and becoming enemies with the entire Bloodmoon Kingdom, wouldn’t it be simpler, safer to find loopholes and survive in Shattered Lake Prison?”

“If you just wanted to live ignobly, you wouldn’t have chosen the most dangerous path of ‘escape’. You’re doing this to satisfy some desire, even willing to bet your life on it.”

Ashe was slightly startled.

Carefully recalling his actions over the past half month, he realized that he did seem to have never considered accepting the law’s punishment… No, bearing Heath’s blame and spending the rest of his life in prison.

From the beginning, he had been thinking about how to escape. Aurora’s Sorcerer Handbook, the swordswoman, Igor… These were all opportunities for his escape, but the idea of escaping seemed to be deeply rooted in his mind, never wavering.

Did he not know the extremely low chance of a successful escape, and the risk of death?

Did he not know that even if he succeeded, what awaited him would still be endless pursuit?

He could almost foresee his own outcome – hungry, cold, tired, every person he encountered an enemy, no longer a place for him in the Bloodmoon Kingdom.

A person cannot resist the collective, they can only blend into the collective.

In fact, if he just wanted to live ignobly, there should still be other ways. For example, taking out his knowledge reserves, copying texts and the like, greatly increasing his contribution; or carefully preparing a xiangsheng/crosstalk script, turning the Blood Moon Tribunal into his own show.

There were many, many more, each method safer than his escape, some even with higher success rates.

But why…did he not have any thoughts of ‘surrender’ or ‘compromise’ from the start?

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