The story returns to the twenty-first day of the ninth month of the year ten thousand and nine of the Yulan Calendar. A few days had already passed since Wotton and Nina's wedding. At this point, Lin Lei truly believed that Rein was dead.
But he was wrong.
"This is the third day on the ship. Those bastards just beat another poor slave to death and tossed him into the Bonney River." Rein stared out through the iron-barred window. A body that had once been strong and was now covered in bloodstains was thrown into the river. A human life, reduced to nothing more than a splash.
In the army, Rein had already seen how cheap life could be.
But during this transport, the cruelty of the slave traders still shocked him. Fortunately, Rein was among the most valuable cargo — the other slaves didn't dare kill him.
Crack! A whip lashed viciously across Rein's body. The tip of the lash flicked across his face, and blood immediately seeped through his skin. Beneath his tattered clothes, his body was covered with wounds of every kind.
"What the hell are you looking at?" One of the thugs in the cargo hold grabbed his whip and snarled at Rein.
Rein could only curl up in the corner of the hold, not daring to make a sound. He had learned his lesson — if he acted tough and glared back, he would suffer torment all night long.
This slave transport ship was enormous. The lowest hold housed the most wretched slaves, and the trading organization's enforcers would patrol through from time to time, beating anyone who caught their eye.
Rein was a top-tier slave, so he was locked in a special room on the second level, its windows barred with iron. Two enforcers stood guard nearby. The other rooms on the second level housed more enforcers.
On the third level — the very top — were the leaders of this transport: one eighth-rank powerhouse and two seventh-rank powerhouses. If not for Rein, they would never have sent an eighth-rank expert along.
On the deck of the great ship, a tall, bald man descended from the third-level cabin.
"Lord Pier," the surrounding enforcers said respectfully.
The bald man glanced at the bloodstains on the deck and furrowed his brow. "Wash this blood clean. And for heaven's sake, slaves are worth money — don't be so careless with your strikes. Killing one means a loss for the organization."
None of the enforcers dared speak.
The bald man snorted, then walked over to the railing and enjoyed the cool evening breeze as he gazed upon the beautiful night scenery of the Bonney River.
"By the way, how is that mage doing?" the bald man grunted.
One of the enforcers quickly answered with a fawning smile, "Lord Pier, that pretty-boy mage was awfully arrogant at first, but after our boys 'educated' him these past days, he's learned to be obedient."
"Good."
The bald man spoke flatly. "Keep a close eye on that mage, all of you. Of all the cargo we're transporting this time, the most valuable is this seventh-rank mage. And from the looks of it, he's a noble besides. When we sell him, the price won't be ordinary."
The enforcers nodded. A young seventh-rank mage was absolutely the most elite merchandise in the slave market — more sought after than the most beautiful virgins.
"What was that noise?" The bald man's brow suddenly furrowed. He whipped his head toward the lowest hold. "That sickly wretch has been groaning again. Drag him out here. Damn it, he's driving me crazy." A bloodthirsty glint flickered in his eyes.
Before long, a thin, frail young man was dragged out. He looked only eighteen or nineteen. His body reeked, and bloodstains marked his clothes. His gaze had gone dull — the days of transport had truly driven him to the brink of madness. He had simply been a young man leaving his hometown to chase a dream, but he had been captured and sold to a slave organization. The nightmare had begun.
"Oh?" The bald man extended a hand, and a nearby enforcer dutifully passed him a whip.
Taking the whip, the bald man cracked it through the air, producing a sharp snap. A flicker of terror appeared in the young man's dull eyes.
"If you're not dead, what are you groaning for? You're ruining my good mood." The bald man seized the whip and brought it down savagely across the frail youth's body.
This lash was far more brutal than anything the ordinary enforcers delivered.
The thin young man's entire body convulsed. From his face to his waist, a horrifying indentation appeared where the whip had struck. Blood gurgled out in streams. His clothes had long since been reduced to rags.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
The bald man lashed him mercilessly, venting all his fury on the helpless youth. The thin young man, with experience born of suffering, immediately tried to protect his head and curled into a ball on the ground. In his mind, if he could just endure, he might still keep his life.
Unfortunately, while the bald man did not dare kill Rein, he had no such reservations about killing this one.
"Lord Pier, he's stopped breathing," an enforcer murmured nearby.
The bald man casually tossed the bloodied whip to the enforcer, then stretched with satisfaction over the rushing river. "Ahh, that feels good. You lot — throw this piece of trash overboard. And clean up the floor."
"Yes, Lord Pier." The enforcers moved swiftly.
Splash! Another body hit the water.
Generally, out of the hundreds of slaves transported each time, a dozen or so were beaten to death along the way. Those killed by the enforcers were usually the weakest. The stronger ones could endure. So the trading organization didn't suffer much loss.
"Another one," Rein thought to himself with a silent sigh. He never imagined that after escaping with his life at the gates of Niel City, he would end up like this.
Rein didn't know what his future held.
"A slave?" The moment he thought about the wretched, dark existence of a slave, his heart clenched with dread.
"What are you moving your lips for, pretty boy? Trying to cast a spell?" A harsh shout rang out, followed by a crack as the whip slashed straight across Rein's face.
Pain. Humiliation!
These enforcers clearly knew Rein was a seventh-rank mage. Every last one of the lowly thugs wanted to get in as many lashes as possible, feeding their twisted vanity.