There are no guards here, probably because the infrared light is very safe, making it easy for people to relax their vigilance.

Jing Jiaren stood next to the iron gate, leaning against the rock wall, quietly looking in.

There was a pot set up around a big bonfire in the cave. The water in the pot was contributed by these migrant workers. All their drinking water for the day was poured into this pot.

As soon as 12 o'clock came, they lit the fire on time.

The collected wood was set up into a small firewood pile, and the fire was already burning.

And what about Mong Zihua? That unlucky guy has been stripped down to only a pair of underwear hanging high, facing the pot.

The migrant workers in cloaks formed a circle around the bonfire, and without exception they all looked up at Mong Zihua.

Looking at his thin skin and tender flesh, his mouth is probably watering.

Jing Jiaren mourned a few seconds of silence for Gong Zihua in her heart.

I don’t know what’s going on with Leng Lintian. Although he has attracted other migrant workers, if he is not sure that those migrant workers will come back for support? After all, these migrant workers are all locked up in the camp...

In the pot, gurgling, the water in the pot has begun to bubble.

A man who looked like a leader in a cloak stood beside the frame, turning the wheel with his hands. Gong Zihua's rope slowly lengthened and descended.

…

Mong Zihua's skin is fair, but there are many bruises and scratches on her body.

It was obvious that he had been beaten severely. His handsome face was swollen, especially the corners of his mouth were broken and stained with blood and stains. He had probably been beaten violently.

At this time, he had fallen into a coma. Was he knocked unconscious? Or was he beaten to death?

Jing Jiaren paid close attention for a while and saw that he was hanging in the air, with his eyes closed, completely drooping and making no sound.

Of course, these cloaked men had long wanted to kill Mong Zihua, and their hatred for the upper class made them want to devour him alive. However, in order not to affect the quality of their food, the cloaked leader stopped them from continuing.

In addition, I am afraid that if I beat Gong Zihua to death, the cooking will not be so fresh——

Once a person dies and his blood clots, the meat loses its delicious taste.

Of course, they also preferred to watch Miya Zihua cooking soup in a pot alive, and appreciate his tragic and painful death.

"Gulu, gulu, gulu, gulu..."

In the quiet concentration camp, only the pot made a loud sound and the boiling water boiled.

The leader of the cloaked man suddenly gestured with his hands and made a sign of the cross on his chest, begging God for forgiveness.

"It's almost... too much time... it's time to put the food in the pot..."

The men in cloaks beside the campfire all became excited and made vague sounds. They probably had not spoken much for a long time and their language skills were somewhat weakened. Their voices were unclearly enunciated and were so densely mixed together that Jing Jiaren could not hear them clearly.

The cloaked leader took out a long iron rod from the bonfire, and the end he held was wrapped in cloth to insulate it.

There is a flat mark on the long iron side, which has been burned red.

Jing Jiaren's eyes narrowed slightly, what do they want to do?

laugh--

He raised the hot iron and poked Mong Zihua's thigh hard, and the smell of burnt skin and smoke came out.

Seeing Gong Zihua waking up from the pain of being burned, there was a burst of weird laughter in the migrant workers' camp.

The laughter of these migrant workers gave Jing Jiaren a chill down her spine. Fortunately, Gong Zihua was still alive.
Chapter completed!