Dragon, choose cultural victory to make money

Chapter 44 A Wonderful Night in the Dungeon

late at night.

Twin Towers City, Garrison Dungeon.

Raul huddled in a corner in despair. The garrison had no respect for civility or courtesy. They would beat up any criminal they caught.

But things were a little different for him. After a few soldiers came in, they asked him to sign a few photos before beating him.

Separate public and private matters.

There was some extra hatred when he was beaten, not because of the despicable crime he was accused of, but seemingly because he had received too much attention that he did not deserve.

The soldiers beat and cursed at him.

"You look handsome, right? You play the role of a demon, right? You think you are great, right?"

"'Ah! Raul is so handsome! Ah! I want to marry him!' Now?"

And so on.

Raul is also very aggrieved, blame him. He is also the one being harassed by crazy fans, he is the victim, okay?

As for the so-called victim girl, she doesn't really care. The noble gentlemen have played much more games than this.

There was nothing in the cell except a toilet, and of course no bed. He could only lie on the cold stone slabs and groan in pain.

The foul odor from the toilet, which had been passed around countless times, irritated his already exhausted nerves and prevented him from falling asleep.

Outside the cell, an annoying reporter was still frequently using recording magic.

"Smile, big star, what's it like in prison? If you can get out, you must star in a film about life in a dungeon. After all, your most important acting method is that so-called, sense of substitution, yes, sense of substitution."

Compared to this reporter, Raul would rather face those noble ladies who have sprayed half a pound of perfume.

Suddenly, all the torches in the dungeon went out, and heavy footsteps were heard in the distance, as well as the sound of iron scraping across the ground.

The old hands who often hang out in prison know that someone is about to get into trouble again, and they even start betting on the spot, betting on how many seconds it will take for the unlucky guy to start begging for mercy.

This extremely hellish gamble also carries a bit of mysterious humanitarian concern.

If the unlucky guy is really a tough guy and doesn't say a word from beginning to end, all the gambling money will belong to him.

The dazzling lighting suddenly came on, startling the reporter.

Under the light, it was difficult to see who was coming, and one could only make out two strong figures by their outlines.

The reporter instinctively wanted to escape, but there was a prison cell behind him and he had nowhere to retreat. He bumped into the iron bars and the rusty metal squeaked.

He was lifted up like a chicken and held against the cell door.

"I ask, you answer."

The reporter nodded hurriedly.

"You wrote the report about Raul?"

"Yes."

“Is the content false?”

"How is that possible? I always guarantee the authenticity of my reports," the reporter defended himself tremblingly, "The girl told me everything in person. It's absolutely true..."

"Shh, you've said too much. Just answer yes or no. Do you understand?"

"Ming..." The reporter stopped talking halfway and changed the subject to: "Yes."

"Great, let's play a little game then."

Another figure took out a huge iron tool.

"Do you know what this is? This is a very big pair of pliers that can easily crush fragile flesh. Now it is clamped on your vitals. If you lie next, your thing will be crushed and stuffed into your mouth. It will be filmed and shown to countless people. I call this game the Ultimate Insult. Isn't it interesting?"

The reporter's already pale face turned completely pale and he could only mechanically answer yes.

"Again, is your report a false accusation?"

"No."

"Think about it carefully, isn't it? You've already started to exert yourself."

"I've received the money!" The reporter couldn't bear it anymore. Tears and snot flowed out all at once. He could already feel the cold touch.

"Someone brought that girl to me and asked me to write a report like this, and also gave me money, woo woo woo ..."

"Where's the girl?"

"At the newspaper office." "Who is that person?"

"I don't know, I really don't know. In this line of work, no one asks about identity. The fewer you ask, the safer you are. I've told you everything I know."

The reporter's voice was hoarse and his crying had turned into a dry howl.

"What a shame! Smile and take a photo."

"No--"

A moment of silence.

"He passed out."

"That won't work. The process isn't complete yet."

The brightness of the illumination decreased, and the two figures were actually two orcs, Battle Axe and a priest.

"Boss! You have to come over and take a look!" Battle Axe roared towards the dungeon exit.

"You can't even do such a simple thing properly." Drogo wrapped his nose with several layers of perfumed towels and walked down the dungeon reluctantly.

The downside of having an overly sensitive sense of smell is that the smell here is really too strong.

When the reporter arrived outside Raul's cell, he was already incontinent, but it didn't matter, a little more filth in the cell wouldn't make any difference.

"What's the question?"

The sacrifice is briefly repeated.

"Is that true?"

"It's true." replied the priest.

This is why we have to go through the process. The more complete the mental breakdown, the more accurate the Truth Word will be. Otherwise, some professionals can completely deceive the Truth Word's appraisal.

"That's it. If no one has found out the truth, then no one has found out the truth. Get Raul out and we'll go to the newspaper office."

Drogo left the dungeon in disgust. When he was about to reach the exit, he remembered something and turned back to instruct, "After getting Raul out, lock up that reporter and then put a toilet bucket on his head. I despise those who get paid to write fake news."

Although he himself has paid for fake news, this is called flexible moral standards, the style of a pure red dragon.

The priest used the key to open the cell door, cast a healing spell on Raul, carried him on his shoulders with the battle axe, and left the dungeon.

The key was returned to the soldier on duty who was immersed in an illusion and had a late-night meeting with the Flower of the Viola Theater.

Since starting to participate in the Visual Inscription Workshop test, Drogo's illusion skills have improved by leaps and bounds.

Now, besides being invincible and drugging, he has a third option for infiltration: illusion.

It was not in vain that I watched so many porn movies in my previous life. I put all of them into use when constructing illusions. These garrison soldiers had never seen such a scene before and were stunned by it.

Arrived at the newspaper office soon.

After Tomahawk had a brief and friendly exchange with the security guard on duty, the other party assured him that he had never seen a Asian dragon and two orcs carrying a person into the newspaper office in the early morning, and he had never heard of a little girl temporarily staying in the reception room on the second floor.

So, the reception room on the second floor.

A little girl who looked like a porcelain doll was sleeping on the sofa, peaceful and beautiful.

Just as Drogo was thinking about how to wake her up, the little girl opened her eyes.

His bright big eyes blinked, and when he saw several strange creatures appearing in front of him, he did not panic. Instead, he sat up and straightened his clothes. His posture was dignified and he was so mature that it was hard to believe that he was only six years old.

Drogo nodded to the priest, and then asked the little girl, using a rare clip-like voice for a dragon, "Little girl, what is your name?"

"Mira."

"What about the last name?"

The girl shook her head.

Drogo thought about his words and said, "If you don't want to answer this question, you don't have to." Drogo pointed at Raul, "Has this uncle ever done anything bad to you?"

"Have."

Drogo watched the sacrifice.

"real."

"!"

(End of this chapter)