Revenge begins with the assassination of the Draco Holy Land

“Okay, I’ll take you.”

The slave boy walked with the Avengers one after the other to the back of Draco’s manor, an entrance to the underground.

Not only did Iggy feel that the other party was like his ten-year-old self, but the boy also had a strange sense of security for this big brother who suddenly appeared.

I don’t know if anyone other than Draco’s clothes will believe it, or if I think this will be what my future will look like when I grow up.

Along the way, observing his silent brother, the boy instinctively felt empathy in Iggy’s eyes.

When he walked to the door, without too many words, the little boy’s heart had formed an unconditional trust in him.

“Here’s where my mother used to trade her labor for rations.”

A large and a small two stood outside the rusty iron gate, and Iggy did not move, but began to turn his thoughts.

Looking at this old secret door like the cellar where he was imprisoned as a child, the Avenger fell into memories from a long time ago.

The images that flashed in my mind were of a dim underground life like waste, eating, sleeping, and reading like waste day after day.

Every day was like screening the same movie repeatedly, and the mother traded her slave work for food and raised herself day by day.

The days of growing fatigue did not come to life until Thorn appeared at the age of ten, not wanting this to be a murderous attempt to change everything.

Overnight, my mother, who loved and loved me so much, died tragically, and I myself fell into the sea and became a vengeful ghost.

“It’s right here.”

The slave boy’s words pulled back his thoughts, and Iggy sorted out his apprehension and forcibly suppressed the dark memories that the Avengers rarely knew.

The endless sadness is deeply hidden in the heart, and the surface of the avenger is still a big brother image full of love.

The humble door at the root of the wall divides the supreme Draco and the slaves whose lives are like ants, each living in two worlds.

“Let’s go.”

The boy led the way down the trapdoor that was two people wide, and the stairs were flanked by gray-skinned, yellow-mottled stone walls.

The steps are covered with long stairs of green moss, and the bottom of your feet is wet and slippery, as if you are about to slide down if you are not stable on your feet.

It seemed that the slave dwelling was extremely humble, and the further down it went, it became darker, and this long staircase seemed to be the road to hell.

Halfway through, Iggy seemed to see the originally delicate and elegant princess, crawling hard in dirty coarse cloth clothes.

Exhausted every day bent back and forth, the slippery ground makes the once pampered woman fall if she is not careful.

After working as an inhuman coolie all day, I had to restrain my sad emotions when I went up the stairs, and I had to force a smile when I walked out of the secret door.

When entering the cellar to meet your son, you must be gentle and cheerful, reaching out and handing over hard-earned food.

“It’s almost there.”

Walking down the stairs tens of meters long, you arrive at the so-called “slave residence”, which is actually a staggeringly dark workshop.

As far as the eye can see, there is a large U-shaped promenade in front of you, and the outer edge of the trail is full of various postures. A slave sleeping on the ground.

In a panic, Iggy seemed to see her mother huddled with a group of foul-smelling men, napping quietly.

Even in rags, the mother’s unconcealable beauty always attracts the attention of overseers or bullies in labor.

Within ten years, with various positions and physical convenience, overseers and bullies began to talk to their mother, inadvertently pumping oil on her.

For the sake of the livelihood of mother and son, Yuni can only endure harassment day after day, until it finally develops into unbearable humiliation.

One night, returning to the cellar with his usual smile, Iggy caught a glimpse of his disheveled clothes and black tear stains on the side of his cheek.

“Go this way, brother.”

The boy’s childish words urged the Avenger to look away and follow the little slave’s footsteps towards the corridor.

Countless thick hemp ropes hung in the air, and when I looked up, the hanging ropes reached the top of the ceiling, and they disappeared into darkness.

The density of hemp rope is far beyond ordinary people’s imagination, like tens of thousands of hanged ghosts, and the rope head is soaked with dark red liquid.

In the middle of the cloister is a square area, wrapped in layers of steel walls, I don’t know what secrets are hidden.

“When I get to big brother, I’ll live here.”

The little boy took the Avenger halfway around the slave workshop and stopped at a place that was no different from the others.

It was not so much a dwelling as a corner of the corridor, except for a small space vacated among the numerous slave beds.

The Avenger looked at the small empty seat and couldn’t help but laugh in his heart.

In contrast, this little ghost lived in a stronger place than when he was a child, at least much more space, and there were countless friends around him who could talk.

But stared at the little boy’s shocking blood stains and unusually thick knuckles.

Iggy knew that regardless of age or gender, as a Draco slave, he didn’t know how many overseers he had to receive every day.

How many coolies far exceed ordinary people, and they have to endure the and insults of Draco anytime and anywhere.

Looking back at the dense thick rope, it was no different from the way to come, all connected to the ceiling at the top.

The truth is instantly connected, and in the comics there is a path for nobles and kings to move forward automatically without walking.

Underneath the steel tracks are slaves who work twenty-four hours a day with fiber ropes, dragging seemingly high-tech roads by hand.

After half a turn, above the circular corridor, you can see countless parts and gears on the ceiling where the rope hangs.

This is an underground slave workshop directly below the above-ground zigzag mobile road, which provides the aristocracy with the labor of slaves.

Looking at the dried blood stains on the rope, Iggy understood the true content of her mother’s work as a slave during the day.

In a place where women are used as men and children as adults, the thin mother leans over and pulls the thick rope to urge the way forward.

The soft hands became rough, the shoulders were worn away by the thick rope, and they also had to work hard under the whip of the overseer.

The princess of a country, who was once loved by thousands of people, has been working like animals for ten years, but she has no regrets.

“Brother, please, get us out.”