I weave fate in parallel time and space

Chapter 416 Randy
The car started from the Palace Square and passed through a dead city and along an old road. The dark clouds crawling on the sea shuttled between the hilltop fortresses. That was the place where political prisoners and important criminals were detained in Germany - Mongolia. Fort Drucker.

There are many anti-war people in Germany, and many people in the Bolshevik Party have been trying to replicate the results in Tsarist Russia in Germany, hoping to start a revolution to overthrow the emperor.

However, Germany is not like Tsarist Russia. They have a very powerful intelligence agency internally, and many captured members of the Bolshevik Party are imprisoned here.

Some people say that the moment they caught a glimpse of Montjuic Castle, they probably knew that they might not be able to leave here alive in this life.

Montjuic Castle is located at the highest point of the rock wall, facing the boundless ocean to the east, the dense urban area to the north, and the boundless city of the dead: Montjuic Cemetery to the south.

The putrid stench from the garden spread in all directions, penetrating through rock walls and stone crevices, and also penetrated into the iron bars of the prison cell.

In the past, Fort Montjuic was a base for shelling the city, but due to its proximity to the coast, it also became a war zone some time ago.

Not long ago, the naval battle between Britain and Germany was fought here. During that time, death was everywhere.

The people of this city are trapped in the darkest period in history. They are unwilling to look up to the sky, let alone see the prison on the top of the mountain.

Prisoners escorted by the military into prison are assigned an identification number as soon as they enter, usually the cell number where they are held, and this cell is usually where the prisoner breathes his last breath.

The number Joan of Arc got was NO.13.

For most of the "tenants" as the jailer calls them, entering Montjuic Castle is a point of no return.

The night Joan of Arc arrived in Montjuic, it rained heavily.The stone walls were seeping with water, like fine threads all over them, and there was a mud-like stench in the air.

Two officers escorted her to a hall. There was only an iron table and a chair in the huge space.

There is a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Whenever the voltage is insufficient, the light always flickers on and off.

She stood there waiting for half an hour, watched closely by guards armed with rifles.

There were finally footsteps outside, and after the door opened, Malfoy walked in, wearing a neatly pressed woolen suit.

In fact, he does not have the usual power of a professional soldier, nor does he have the domineering power of a police officer. He is more like an outstanding person in an important position.

But the eyes on that face are very noticeable.The deep and sharp dark blue eyes are filled with greed and suspicion.

It is because of these eyes that no matter how well-armed the appearance is with his elegant scholarly air and gentle and polite manners, his true nature will be exposed.

A bunch of round lenses magnified his eyes, and his blond hair was neatly combed back. This gentle look was incompatible with the solemn atmosphere in which he lived.

He sat down directly on the chair behind the iron table, then opened the binder in his hand and placed a document on the table.

I saw him clasping his hands together, resting his chin on his fingertips, staring at Jeanne for a long time.

"Know this place?"

"When I was in Northern Russia, I heard Vladimir mention this place. Many of their people were imprisoned here." Joan of Arc said.

"These people are indeed very troublesome." Malfoy murmured softly.

He gestured to the papers in front of her.

"Sign this document and you may be able to save your life."

"Ever since I joined the army, I have put my life at risk." Joan of Arc raised her head slightly and said, "You have just imprisoned your father, and you will also bring this country into a deeper abyss. Those who signed this confession will , it should be you, not me."

She was hit hard in the abdomen by the butt of the gun. She fell to the ground and huddled up holding her belly.

"That's not what I wanted to hear," Malfoy said.

He slowly stood up from his seat, came to Joan's side, stretched out his hand and lifted her chin with his fingertips.There was a little blood at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes were full of contempt.

"To be honest." Malfoy murmured softly, "I never thought that a young girl like you could cause me so much trouble on the battlefield of Verdun."

Jeanne trembled and raised the corners of her mouth.

"So is that trash opposite you? That's really the stupidest conductor I've ever seen in my life."

Malfoy stood up slowly, and the soldier on one side hit her with the butt of a rifle on her lower back again, causing her to fall to the ground again.

"I have actually interrogated many West French people, and at first they were all just like you, unwilling to cooperate.

However, after I entertained them well, they eventually cooperated.

I am a compassionate person, so I can give you some time.

Don't force me to do something unkind to you.

My patience is very limited. "

"Your patience is indeed limited." Joan of Arc slowly stood upright, calmly wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, and stared at her coldly, "During the battlefield of Verdun, there were at least tens of thousands of people because of your... Limited patience died on the battlefield.”

Malfoy slowly turned his head, the terror in his eyes reaching an extreme level.

"Are you really not afraid of anything?"

"I have nothing to fear except treason," Joan replied.

The anger in Malfoy's heart finally reached its extreme. He trembled and slowly opened his mouth, and everyone could feel the anger gushing out.

"it is good"

When leaving this room, Joan of Arc was dragged away.

Through a tunnel filled with stagnant water, she was forced into a cold and damp rectangular dungeon. A small hole was drilled in the stone wall, and the cold air forced its way in.

The walls are covered with various grooves and marks carved by the freehands of previous tenants.Some people carve their names, dates, or leave some trace of their past.

Someone was killing time by carving a large cross in the dark, but heaven seemed not to notice his piety.

The rusty iron bars sealed the dungeon tightly. When I stretched out my hand, my hands were filled with the smell of rust.

Joan of Arc is curled up on an iron bed, with a rag beside her that may have served as a blanket, sheet, and pillow.There was a bronze darkness before his eyes, like the remaining light of a dying candle.

Her face was covered with wounds, and the corners of her mouth and eyes were covered with bruises. She looked like a worn-out puppet, and it looked like she had just been beaten.

After a while, her eyes got used to the normal darkness, and her hearing became particularly keen. She listened to the slight movement of her body, the never-ending series of water drops, and the sound of strong winds outside. echo.

"Randy."

Joan of Arc heard a familiar name in her ears, which was her past name.

Since everyone who knew her name has passed away, Randy has also passed away.
Instead, there was another person named Joan of Arc, who was burdened with fate.
She slowly opened her eyes, and there was silence in the cell. It didn't look like a place where there would be people.

But then, she felt the faint light from the corner of the cell shining on her face.

The light was very soft, and at that time the dawn of the morning tore through the night, soft and refreshing.

She slowly turned her head and saw someone standing in the corner of the cell.
(End of this chapter)