Chapter 29: Escape Accomplice

Chapter 29: The Escape Conspirator

Lyman stumbled and thrust the pitchfork into Red Lightning's feed trough. To cover up his embarrassment, he pretended to stir the feed, looking busy.

Red Lightning raised his head and gave him a reproachful look.

"You almost stabbed my nose!" he said. "These four are famous escape artists among the animals. You should hear what they have to say."

"...Why didn't you say that earlier?" Lyman couldn't believe his ears.

The tattooed musclehead gestured, and the other three immediately dispersed around the stable, pretending to be casual but actually keeping watch.

Once he was sure the stable hand was out of earshot, the tattooed musclehead said mysteriously, "First things first—what you hear today stays between us. I'm asking you to join because you're skilled and a man of honor."

Lyman studied the tattooed musclehead as the power of "Masterful Acting" kicked in. Despite his rough manner, the tattooed man was a bad liar. Everything he said was sincere, and he genuinely admired Lyman.

Indeed, in a place like prison, might makes right, and those who could fight earned more respect. Thanks to Nikola spreading rumors, they all saw Lyman as a fearless warrior.

So Lyman didn't hesitate to put on a tough, mean look.

"Alright, let's cut to the chase. Don't worry—Lyman Vichard isn't the type to rat out his friends."

The tattooed musclehead looked like he'd expected that.

"Nikola was right—you're a real loyal guy! I picked the right man!" He nodded. "My name is Carlos. I've got some pull in Cape Prison. Besides the four of us, quite a few people are in on this plan."

"You mean breaking out?" Lyman said. "How do you plan to do it?"

"Dig a tunnel."

"A classic."

Carlos laughed. "We're digging a tunnel to the coast. Then we'll build a raft and get the hell out of this place. We've been secretly digging for over a year now."

"Sounds like the plan's going well. Doesn't seem like you need me."

"That's where you're wrong, my friend."

Carlos walked to the corner of the stable, where the roof blocked the view and hay and junk were piled around—a real hidden spot.

He pointed to a half-buried door and asked, "Ever seen what's down there?"

Lyman shrugged. "No. I figured it was a cellar."

Carlos grinned smugly. "It's a cellar for stuff we don't use much. And one of the tunnel openings is down there. We've been sneaking down there to move supplies or work."

Lyman frowned. "But how do you not get caught?"

Carlos said, "First off, animals can't talk."

"You're full of shit!" Red Lightning cursed loudly.

Carlos gave Red Lightning a weird look, wondering why the horse suddenly neighed.

"Then," he said, ignoring Red Lightning, "the stable hand takes a regular break every afternoon. We've got his routine down."

Lyman had noticed that too. After lunch, the stable hand would always sneak up to the wall to smoke a pipe with some guard buddies. Tobacco was a rare luxury at Cape Prison, shipped in only once a month. The guards saw pipe smoking as a rare treat.

"Finally," Carlos said, "you know the previous stable hand's assistant, right?"

"You mean the one who awakened a supernatural ability?" Lyman remembered what happened the day he first met the Inquisitor.

Carlos nodded. "When he raised that ruckus, it wasn't to escape—it was to cover for us brothers."

"What?" Lyman was stunned.

Carlos's face turned grim. "He actually awakened over a year ago but never let on. Only we knew. Because prisoners with supernatural abilities get sent to the Holy City."

"I heard it's for experiments," Lyman said.

"Exactly. Jonathan kept his ability a secret the whole time, helping us on the sly. But that day..."

Carlos sighed deeply. "While we were digging, we accidentally triggered a collapse. The noise was loud enough to be heard above ground. If the guards discovered we were digging a tunnel, everyone would be finished. So Jonathan, to cover for everyone, pretended he had just awakened his ability, wreaking havoc and making a huge scene. That way the guards would think the first loud noise was also caused by Jonathan, and wouldn't suspect what was beneath their feet."

So that's it! It all became clear to Lyman.

He had always found it strange. Why was that prisoner so impatient that he had to attempt an escape in broad daylight? Wouldn't it be better to sneak away on a moonless, windy night?

He had assumed the man was simply reckless and lacked foresight—but it was quite the opposite. He was too cautious, too far-sighted!

Wait—Lunast had told him to obtain the prison map and find a way to work in the stable. Could he have known about Carlos's escape group all along?

As long as he worked in the stable, Carlos would eventually approach him. Lyman only needed to join them, and he could escape along with them!

Carlos said, "Jonathan sacrificed himself to save his comrades and everyone's hope of freedom. I must not let his kindness go to waste. This escape plan must be carried out no matter what."

"So, you want me to join?" Lyman asked. "Because I work in the stable?"

"That's one reason. The other is that we admire your skill and your spirit. So, are you willing to join?"

Carlos gave Lyman's shoulder a heavy slap. Lyman felt his already minor injuries immediately worsen to critical condition.

"Do I have a choice?" he grimaced, pushing Carlos's big hand away.

Carlos laughed. "I'd say no one would refuse! Didn't I tell you this was an offer you couldn't refuse?"

"So, what should I do? Dig with you?"

Carlos studied Lyman. "With your build? Forget it. You're known for agility, not brute strength. You'll keep watch for us and transport supplies when needed."

"That's it?" Lyman was skeptical.

Carlos said, "If we accidentally make any noise, you'll need to cover for us."

"Like Jonathan did?" Lyman snorted. "That sounds way too dangerous."

In truth, Lyman had already thought of several countermeasures. He could ask the animals to stage another wild stampede to distract the guards. But he didn't need to reveal all his cards.

Carlos put his arm around Lyman's shoulder. "I know it's risky, but freedom is won through risk, buddy!"

"I think life is more precious," Lyman brushed him off. "Tell you what—accept my terms, and I'm in."

"I've already agreed to take you with us."

"I want to bring two... no, three friends," Lyman said.

Carlos was surprised. "Besides the scholar and Eric, you have other friends?"

"..." Lyman glared at Carlos. "You're really rude, you know that?"

“Uh, sorry, sorry. Of course you have friends.” The tattooed bruiser scratched what little hair remained on the back of his head, “But we can’t have too many people on our end either...”

“I can make it worth your while.” Lyman lowered his voice, “How would you like the floor plan of Cape Prison and a map of the surrounding terrain?”

Carlos’s eyes went wide: “You have that?”

Lyman nodded: “With that map, digging your tunnel will be a lot easier. I’ll trade you the map for bringing three friends along. Deal?”

“……Alright, I guess three more people shouldn’t be a problem. But your friends can’t just mooch off us—they need to pull their weight when it counts.”

“Making them work is no problem. Also, I want to see your tunnel for myself and know every detail of the plan.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow: “Are you afraid I’ll cut you loose once you’re no longer useful?”

Lyman sneered: “I’m new here, not one of you old-timers. If you guys decide there are too many people later, I’d be the first one tossed aside.”

Carlos bristled slightly: “What are you talking about! I would never betray my comrades!”

“Pretty words are easy. I only judge by what people do.”

Carlos clenched his fists, his muscles tensing, but then he let it go.

He seemed annoyed, like it never even crossed his mind that someone would doubt him—it stung the big guy’s pride.

“It’s not like I don’t get your concerns. How about this: tomorrow when the stable hand is goofing off, I’ll take you down to check it out. But aren’t you afraid we’ll off you down there?”

Lyman showed no fear: “If I don’t come back, my friends will rat you out to the guards. Then we all go down together—nobody walks away clean.”

Carlos shifted uncomfortably. Lyman laughed heartily and slapped his shoulder a few times with bone-crushing force. (Carlos didn’t budge, and Lyman’s hand hurt a little.)

“Heh, I was just messing with you. I believe you’re a stand-up guy.” Lyman said, “And the fact that you’d say that to my face means you’re not the backstabbing type.”

Carlos’s expression softened: “Of course! Everyone knows what kind of man I am!”

The two agreed to meet again tomorrow. The four big bruisers swaggered out of the stable.

Lyman watched them go, then turned and pulled the pitchfork out of the hay.

“Red Lightning, can we trust those guys?”

The chestnut steed chewed its feed slowly: “Human nature’s too complicated—how’s a horse like me supposed to judge if they’re trustworthy? All I can say is Carlos has been in Cape Prison longer than the oldest guard on the force. He’s the top dog here, and plenty of people do what he says.”

To be the top dog among the prisoners, he’s gotta have some real chops. Might as well work with them—maybe we’ll make it out of here.

Once the tunnel’s done, I can send the rats to scope things out, so I won’t have to worry about those guys pulling a fast one on me.

Lyman went back to pretending to work for a bit when he spotted the scholar creeping over.

“Aren’t you cleaning the chapel?”

“The guard said I was getting in the way and kicked me out.” The scholar pouted, looking wronged, “Was that Carlos and his crew that just left?”

Seeing Lyman nod, a look of terror spread across the scholar’s face. “Oh no, did they mess with you?!”

“We made a deal.”

The scholar let out an “ow” and nearly fainted. “I knew it! With a face like yours, trouble was bound to find you! Don’t worry, Cape Prison won’t stand for this. I’m going to the guards right now to report them!”

Red Lightning suddenly burst out laughing, pawing the ground hard with his front hooves. The scholar jumped, baffled by why the horse had suddenly lost its mind, and grew even more tense.

“Uh, you’ve got the wrong idea—it’s not what you think.” Lyman said.

The scholar said sternly: “You don’t have to debase yourself, Lyman! There’s still justice in this world!”

“It’s really not!” Lyman raised his voice, almost gritting his teeth. Why does this guy’s imagination have to run wild in this particular direction?

“……Really?”

“Alright, Nikola, I can take care of myself. If you’ve got nothing else, get going!”

“Oh……” The scholar left skeptically. After a couple of steps, he turned back and asked, “Can I use this as material for my report to the Inquisitor?”

“No!!!”

“Then what do I report today?”

“Figure it out yourself, you moron! You’ve got plenty of imagination, don’t you!”

***

After finishing the day’s work, Lyman dragged his weary feet back to his cell. The guard escorting him was a new guy with a round face, not Deputy Captain Edton. And he actually found himself missing Edton a little.

As soon as he sat down, his palm suddenly blazed hot, making him hiss on instinct. He was familiar with this feeling—the Book of the Evil God was calling him again.

He summoned the massive tome and flipped to the newest page.

【You have triggered a new mission: “Song of Freedom.”】

“Description: You bear a tarnished name, trapped in prison, and now the time has come to break free from your shackles. You will summon storms, shatter the cage, and compose a melody of resistance from silence. Is it a hymn forged in light, or a dirge woven from blood?”

“Objective: Leave the prison island.”

“Reward: Unlock a new chapter of the Book of the Evil God.”

Here it comes, finally!

Lyman rubbed his hands together, his body tired but his spirit incredibly excited, a surge of motivation flooding through him.

Every time he faced a challenge, the Book of the Evil God issued a new mission. It was the same when he first faced the Inquisitor and when preparing to deal with Captain Prew. Whether it was fate or the Book adapting to the times, he couldn’t say.

Today, right after Lyman reached an agreement with Carlos, the “Song of Freedom” mission triggered. It seemed the Book of the Evil God also supported his participation in the escape plan.

“An escape is never going to be smooth sailing, even with partners, I need to prepare more. Being cautious never hurts!” Lyman thought to himself, “If only I could get a few more relics or Supernatural Abilities. If not, stocking up on tools and supplies would be good too.”

Now with the Divine Casket, Lyman could rightfully demand offerings from his followers. Of course, to preserve the Evil God’s reputation, he only had Xiaoqi handle such extortion. If followers ever couldn’t stand Xiaoqi’s “exploitation,” Lyman would just create a new image and claim Xiaoqi was punished for misconduct. And he would remain the impartial, clean-handed Evil God. Plan solid!

Therefore, the more followers, the better. Each new follower meant another source of supplies.

Lyman looked at his other unfinished mission, “Faith Foundation II.”

“Right, I haven’t checked on that dwarven lady in a while. I wonder if she won the craftsmanship competition and found her true wish?”

The dwarves were the finest craftsmen in this world, and Tove Stone Flame was an incredible inventor. Just thinking about how many resources she could provide made tears of gratitude almost drip from the corner of Lyman’s mouth.

He immediately pulled out Tove’s unfinished Apostle Card from the book, focused his mind, and his soul left his body, crossing half the continent in an instant.

What came into view was still that small, cozy cave dwelling. Unlike last time, the bicycle was gone, a pile of tools scattered on the floor, and Tove Stone Flame’s small figure was buried in a clothing chest, struggling to pull out a bunch of clothes.

“Tove!” Lyman called out.

The dwarven girl jolted, let out an “ow,” and tumbled headfirst into the chest.

Lyman flew up above and saw Tove floundering through a sea of clothes, finally managing to poke her head out.

"Xiaoqi, it's you!" Hearing the familiar white creature's voice, Tove let out a huge sigh of relief.

"It's been a while since I visited. What are you doing? Moving?" Lyman looked around, baffled by the mess.

Tove was quite excited and said, "I'm getting ready for a long trip and packing my bags!"

"Oh? Guess the contest went well?" Lyman asked.

The dwarven girl instantly froze, her smile frozen on her face.

After a long moment, her shoulders slumped, and she said dejectedly, "I didn't win. Sorry to get your hopes up for nothing..."

Lyman was shocked: "The bike didn't win?! Then what great invention took first place? A steam engine? Has your world's tech tree really advanced that far?"

Tove couldn't understand half of what Xiaoqi said. What steam engine? What tech tree? She ignored those and just shook her head sadly, saying, "The first-place work was—"

***

"—The Star Diamond Golden Crown! Let us congratulate this young and talented craftsman. May his craftsmanship and artistic soul forever shine brightly in the halls of stone!"

Emberforge City, Central Grand Hall. This magnificent structure, with three thousand years of history, was built around a natural cave, and after more than a century of construction and decoration, it became one of the dwarves' proudest architectural achievements.

Ancient craftsmen perfectly fused natural stalactites with granite pillars. The massive circular dome, thanks to perfect engineering, required no internal supports, as if lifted by some divine force. The carvings and paintings on the dome were exquisite beyond compare, recounting the dwarves' long and glorious history since their arrival in this world at the Stellar Conjunction.

Emberforge City's annual Craftsmanship Competition was underway in the Grand Hall at this very moment. The hall was packed, with even the aisles crowded with people, all craning their necks in anticipation to see what masterpiece would win the top prize this year.

When the head of the twelve-member council announced that the champion was the "Star Diamond Golden Crown," the hall erupted in thunderous applause. A young dwarf stumbled onto the stage, tears in his eyes as he took the trophy from the head and began his acceptance speech.

Of course, not everyone in the audience was jubilant. Many dwarves wore grim expressions—the barely hidden dejection of the losers.

Tove was one of them. She had come full of confidence, only to leave utterly disappointed. She'd hoped for at least a "Consolation Prize" or "Rookie Award," but walked away empty-handed. Was her work really that terrible?

She forced herself to clap for the winner, but her stomach knotted up.

After the meeting, the dwarves filed out, and Tove trudged heavily back to her cave.

"Tove!" Someone called from behind.

The dwarven girl turned around. A stocky young dwarf walked toward her. He was Tove's classmate at Emberforge Academy and one of her few friends—Harald.

Harald also wore a look of utter despair, greeting Tove listlessly.

"You lost too?" Tove gave him a sympathetic look. "By the way, what was your entry?"

"An automatic self-cleaning toilet powered by water and kinetic energy." Harald sighed as he said it. "The committee's only comment was: Why not just use a chamber pot?"

"But your invention is actually useful!" Tove said indignantly.

Harald nodded vigorously, like a man who'd found a kindred spirit: "Exactly! Even though pooping isn't exactly a refined topic, everyone does it—why look down on me? Who actually enjoys emptying chamber pots every day? ...So, what did you submit?"

"A two-wheeled, chain-driven, human-powered self-propelled vehicle," Tove said. "I even spent an entire day fighting slimes to improve it! But the committee said it wasn't practical—not everyone can ride it, there's a learning curve, and more importantly, it's hard to sell. They didn't think humans would like it because the roads in human nations are terrible."

The humans to the north were the dwarves' most important trading partners, and most of Emberforge City's goods were sold to human kingdoms. The most popular items were dwarven-crafted weapons, armor, and jewelry. After all, those who could afford dwarven goods were human nobles, royals, and wealthy merchants, and their tastes shaped what the dwarves produced.

So every year, the judges tended to favor such works. This year's champion was a prime example.

The Star Diamond Golden Crown, true to its name, was a golden diadem set with over a hundred diamonds—exquisitely designed and masterfully crafted. The diamonds, cut with a new technique, were even more brilliant and dazzling—truly unforgettable. The committee unanimously declared it the finest work of the year, showering it with the highest praise.

Of course, any other work that couldn't sell well was given low scores. The judges even took Tove aside: "Your skills are so good—why not make swords, shields, and the like? You'd definitely win! Why waste time on that self-propelled thing? How much money can it make?"

But Tove wasn't having it.

Her people, the dwarves, had once been the world's technological pioneers. When humans were still bashing each other's skulls with rocks, the dwarves were already forging steel. While humans still huddled in caves, the dwarves were raising palaces that scraped the sky. Some even said the dwarves invented fire itself—if they hadn't been kind enough to share it, everyone else would still be on their knees eating raw meat!

Her people had once reshaped the world, tamed nature, made history, and changed the age. So what was wrong with her inventing new things?

"Maybe my skills just aren't good enough," she muttered. "Next year. Next year I'll make something even better—and I'll definitely take first place!"

She clenched her fist, full of determination.

Just as she was about to say goodbye to Harald, she noticed an unfamiliar dwarf striding toward them.

The dwarf was well-dressed and slightly older than them. A brass badge shaped like a hammer and anvil was pinned to his collar—a sign he wasn't an ordinary craftsman but a master's apprentice.

"Are you Tove Stone Flame and Harald?" the stranger asked.

Tove and Harald exchanged glances, each seeing the same confusion in the other's eyes—neither recognized this dwarf.

"We are," Tove said. "Can we help you?"

The stranger stepped forward, placed his right fist over his chest, and gave a solemn salute. "May sparks always fly from your hammers," he said, following the old custom. "My name is Dwarin. My master, Bjorn, sent me to deliver a message to you both."

At the name "Master Bjorn," both Tove and Harald stiffened.

He was a renowned craftsman in Emberforge City! Though not one of the twelve judges, he was a master everyone admired—a figure far out of their reach.

He'd sent his disciple to deliver a message to two no-name craftsmen? It was like a king visiting a farmer, or the Holy See receiving a beggar—what an honor!

"W-what does the Master want with us?" Tove asked, trembling.

"The Master was very impressed with your submissions. He thinks you're creative and it's a shame you didn't win. He wants to give young talent a chance. Would you be willing to become his apprentices?"

Tove's head spun. The incredible news hit her like a hammer, nearly making her see stars!

Why had she slaved away building that two-wheeled, chain-driven, human-powered self-propelled vehicle? Wasn't it to win the competition and become a master's apprentice?

"You're not messing with us, are you..." Harald said in disbelief.

"Why would I do something so pointless?" Dwarin said, furrowing his thick brows. "If you don't believe me, go ask the Master yourself. Oh, and if you agree, you'd better hurry home and pack."

Tove was taken aback: "Why?"

Dwarin said flatly, "The Master's been invited by the human governor to work up north for a while. His disciples naturally go with him. We leave at dawn tomorrow."