Chapter 390 Trampoline
A dungeon in the Unnamed Town.
Angora entered the new building constructed for the hill-folk siege event.
Unlike what he thought at first, the dungeon was not dark and damp but quite bright and dry instead. The walls were not made out of mud that could be tunneled with a small rake or whatnot, but concrete walls similar to other Church of Games buildings where one could feel the divine power of the God of Games buffing it.
Moreover, the dungeon itself was not guarded by Players, but humanoid automatons.
It was a pity that Angora did not participate in the previous Elven Synchronized Intellect Nation (SIN) event, or he would have noticed that the automatons in the dungeons were completely different from the ones in the SIN. Still, the structure in the joints and other parts clearly applied the same technology. In the end, this world had no copyright laws, and the ability of the gods were always unreasonable—as long as they had a blueprint, no secrets would be withheld from them if they studied it seriously for a bit.
Of course, the technology in the mortal realm was not especially noteworthy, and only Xi Wei was so keen on adopting technology belonging to others for widespread use…
Furthermore, automatons would not be confounded and show considerable ability in combat, and had strength in numbers—the Players’ daily quests include making these automatons and as long as they didn’t stop working, the automatons would be limitless in number.
And now, Angora glanced at the warden automaton.
Unlike the hill-folk imprisoned in the dungeon, the convenience of the System provided the Church of Games followers additional information when they look at those things.
For example, the automatons were all named Humagears, and beneath the table of their stats was a line that read ‘Humagears have no heart, please don’t cause programming error by talking about dreams or whatnot’.
Be that as it may, there were curious Players who ran here, and started blabbing about their dreams and whatnot at the automatons after seeing that line. The automatons would always react to it by giving said Player a beating, and carry them out as if they were a pig and throw them out of the dungeon… But that was digressing. Either way, unless the hill-folk reach the level of legendary and awakened their miracles, the hill-folk’s intention of escaping the dungeon was like an imbecile’s daydream.
As the liege of a small town, Angora naturally did not come to the dungeon for a pleasure trip.
While the dungeon appeared clean and tidy because of a complete sewer system and the automatons’ tireless cleaning, it didn’t change the fact that this was a jail.
Aside from those people who had certain eccentric hobbies, no one would like the atmosphere here.
Arriving outside the most special cell, Angora looked through the glass-like wall that was much sturdier than glass.
It should have been a rather solemn scene since the prisoner was the Hill Shaman, the highest-ranked individual amongst the hill-folk captured by the Players.
Nonetheless, even though Angora had gone through much storms (and the Players’ silly behaviors) that matured him compared to his peers despite his youth, he definitely was not as composed as his elders.
Which was why he could not stop looking down at the Shaman’s lower body, where strips of cloths were tied over his crouch like a supersized diaper.
“I won’t be that impolite if I were you.”
The Hill Shaman glowered at Angora and said with disdain, “Don’t you plains-folk hold your manners with pride? It seems that your manners extend only that far. Oh, wait, I’ve forgotten-your manners only include bowing and kowtowing to those people of important status.”
“Manners are reserved for those deserving of respect. I treat even peasants with manners if he has done something respectfully heroic, and clearly you would not grant me such courtesy.”
Angora did not hesitate to retaliate with his banter.
“Then it’s best you pray to your god that I won’t escape. Otherwise…” The Hill Shaman’s eyes were overflowing with killing intent and he was not holding it back.
“You don’t need to waste your breath. This dungeon itself is a blessing from my god.”
Angora spread his hands and watched as the Hill Shaman’s expression turned from shock to understanding before becoming full of despair, and felt a slight pleasure from it just then.
“However, it is not as if we can’t let you go if you are willing to work with us and give us some information.”
“Dream on! You damn plains-folk is as vile as shrews. Did you think I would believe you?!”
Proving himself to be quite the character, the Hill Shaman firmly refused Angora’s negotiation after realizing that he could never escape from the dungeon. “Don’t get so full of yourself—we were only ambushed because we were in a rush. When the other hill-folks reach this place, it would be the end for you #$toads&#*skunk@#$%!”
The Hill Shaman was mumbling a bunch of unintelligible words, and from the context, it appeared that the Hill Shaman was comparing them, the plains-folk to a bunch of animals, which was quite a rare manner of cursing.
Angora could not understand it and was therefore not really angry, since he did not intend to complete his System quest that easily.
As such, he turned on his quest panel to look through the items noted on it, sniggering imperceptibly before clearing his throat, “I’m not hoping that you would cooperate that easily either, which was why I’ve prepared some interrogation for you…” “Hahaha, you weak plains-folk are such fools!” The Hill Shaman broke into laughter. “We are the hill-folk who live amongst the great mountains! Our weaklings have long since died in the hunt. Wounds and pain are the norm for us, and even leather whip laced with saltwater…”
“Did I even say that I would torture you?” Angora cut him short impatiently. “At first, I intend to drug you with two bottles of aphrodisiac and have some belly-dancers give you a lap dance, before throwing you into another cell with a pig when you’re burning with arousal and record everything with a magic stone, and show it to everyone in this dungeon when you recover. I’ll repeat it when you regain some of your vigor, and of course out of human consideration, we would switch the pig with a dog for a change of palate the second time…”
“Kill me now!” The Hill Shaman screamed, his face turning pale as he rushed toward the wall.
However, the dungeon walls were made anti-suicide, which was why he bounced back as if hitting a piece of rubber, before being bounced between the walls of the cell like he dropped on a trampoline.
If one did not take notice of the Hill Shamana’s wildly panicking looks, it would be a happy scene as if an overgrown child wearing a supersized diaper was trampolining…
Chapter 390 Trampoline
A dungeon in the Unnamed Town.
Angora entered the new building constructed for the hill-folk siege event.
Unlike what he thought at first, the dungeon was not dark and damp but quite bright and dry instead. The walls were not made out of mud that could be tunneled with a small rake or whatnot, but concrete walls similar to other Church of Games buildings where one could feel the divine power of the God of Games buffing it.
Moreover, the dungeon itself was not guarded by Players, but humanoid automatons.
It was a pity that Angora did not participate in the previous Elven Synchronized Intellect Nation (SIN) event, or he would have noticed that the automatons in the dungeons were completely different from the ones in the SIN. Still, the structure in the joints and other parts clearly applied the same technology. In the end, this world had no copyright laws, and the ability of the gods were always unreasonable—as long as they had a blueprint, no secrets would be withheld from them if they studied it seriously for a bit.
Of course, the technology in the mortal realm was not especially noteworthy, and only Xi Wei was so keen on adopting technology belonging to others for widespread use…
Furthermore, automatons would not be confounded and show considerable ability in combat, and had strength in numbers—the Players’ daily quests include making these automatons and as long as they didn’t stop working, the automatons would be limitless in number.
And now, Angora glanced at the warden automaton.
Unlike the hill-folk imprisoned in the dungeon, the convenience of the System provided the Church of Games followers additional information when they look at those things.
For example, the automatons were all named Humagears, and beneath the table of their stats was a line that read ‘Humagears have no heart, please don’t cause programming error by talking about dreams or whatnot’.
Be that as it may, there were curious Players who ran here, and started blabbing about their dreams and whatnot at the automatons after seeing that line. The automatons would always react to it by giving said Player a beating, and carry them out as if they were a pig and throw them out of the dungeon… But that was digressing. Either way, unless the hill-folk reach the level of legendary and awakened their miracles, the hill-folk’s intention of escaping the dungeon was like an imbecile’s daydream.
As the liege of a small town, Angora naturally did not come to the dungeon for a pleasure trip.
While the dungeon appeared clean and tidy because of a complete sewer system and the automatons’ tireless cleaning, it didn’t change the fact that this was a jail.
Aside from those people who had certain eccentric hobbies, no one would like the atmosphere here.
Arriving outside the most special cell, Angora looked through the glass-like wall that was much sturdier than glass.
It should have been a rather solemn scene since the prisoner was the Hill Shaman, the highest-ranked individual amongst the hill-folk captured by the Players.
Nonetheless, even though Angora had gone through much storms (and the Players’ silly behaviors) that matured him compared to his peers despite his youth, he definitely was not as composed as his elders.
Which was why he could not stop looking down at the Shaman’s lower body, where strips of cloths were tied over his crouch like a supersized diaper.
“I won’t be that impolite if I were you.”
The Hill Shaman glowered at Angora and said with disdain, “Don’t you plains-folk hold your manners with pride? It seems that your manners extend only that far. Oh, wait, I’ve forgotten-your manners only include bowing and kowtowing to those people of important status.”
“Manners are reserved for those deserving of respect. I treat even peasants with manners if he has done something respectfully heroic, and clearly you would not grant me such courtesy.”
Angora did not hesitate to retaliate with his banter.
“Then it’s best you pray to your god that I won’t escape. Otherwise…” The Hill Shaman’s eyes were overflowing with killing intent and he was not holding it back.
“You don’t need to waste your breath. This dungeon itself is a blessing from my god.”
Angora spread his hands and watched as the Hill Shaman’s expression turned from shock to understanding before becoming full of despair, and felt a slight pleasure from it just then.
“However, it is not as if we can’t let you go if you are willing to work with us and give us some information.”
“Dream on! You damn plains-folk is as vile as shrews. Did you think I would believe you?!”
Proving himself to be quite the character, the Hill Shaman firmly refused Angora’s negotiation after realizing that he could never escape from the dungeon. “Don’t get so full of yourself—we were only ambushed because we were in a rush. When the other hill-folks reach this place, it would be the end for you #$toads&#*skunk@#$%!”
The Hill Shaman was mumbling a bunch of unintelligible words, and from the context, it appeared that the Hill Shaman was comparing them, the plains-folk to a bunch of animals, which was quite a rare manner of cursing.
Angora could not understand it and was therefore not really angry, since he did not intend to complete his System quest that easily.
As such, he turned on his quest panel to look through the items noted on it, sniggering imperceptibly before clearing his throat, “I’m not hoping that you would cooperate that easily either, which was why I’ve prepared some interrogation for you…” “Hahaha, you weak plains-folk are such fools!” The Hill Shaman broke into laughter. “We are the hill-folk who live amongst the great mountains! Our weaklings have long since died in the hunt. Wounds and pain are the norm for us, and even leather whip laced with saltwater…”
“Did I even say that I would torture you?” Angora cut him short impatiently. “At first, I intend to drug you with two bottles of aphrodisiac and have some belly-dancers give you a lap dance, before throwing you into another cell with a pig when you’re burning with arousal and record everything with a magic stone, and show it to everyone in this dungeon when you recover. I’ll repeat it when you regain some of your vigor, and of course out of human consideration, we would switch the pig with a dog for a change of palate the second time…”
“Kill me now!” The Hill Shaman screamed, his face turning pale as he rushed toward the wall.
However, the dungeon walls were made anti-suicide, which was why he bounced back as if hitting a piece of rubber, before being bounced between the walls of the cell like he dropped on a trampoline.
If one did not take notice of the Hill Shamana’s wildly panicking looks, it would be a happy scene as if an overgrown child wearing a supersized diaper was trampolining…
