“Beasts! You beasts! Let her go!”

　　“……”

　　River Song was clearly in immense pain, her voice hoarse from crying, unable even to moan.

　　Blood kept flowing, gradually pooling on the ground.

　　Matthew Grant clicked his tongue twice in pity and said, “The Eldest Miss Brooks, there’s no need to cry for this lowly maid. She’s not worth it. She’s already confessed. I know who burned the evidence; all that’s missing is a witness to prove the Eastern Palace gave the order.”

　　With that, he turned to River Song and asked, “Speak, was the arsonist Charles Reed sent by the Crown Prince?”

　　River Song let out two guttural sounds from her throat and sobbed hoarsely, “Yes… yes…”

　　“Your word means nothing. You’re just a lowly maid. I want your mistress to speak.”

　　Matthew Grant smiled, turned his head, looked at Olivia Brooks, and asked, “Is that so?”

　　Olivia Brooks wept uncontrollably, shaking her head over and over, “Don’t do this!”

　　Matthew Grant stepped forward, gently stroking her hair, and said softly, “Your useless husband Brian Clark has already confessed to enough crimes.”

　　A foul stench came from his mouth, making Olivia Brooks almost retch as she cried, “No.”

　　“Your entire The Brooks Family has been thrown into prison and is being interrogated right now. There’s no escaping the capital crime of extermination of your whole clan.”

　　“No.”

　　“What a pity, such a beauty with such poor judgment in men. Right now, only you can save The Brooks Family.” Matthew Grant said, “I’ll ask one more time: did the Crown Prince send Charles Reed to destroy the evidence?”

　　“I beg you… please…”

　　“You still want to protect the Crown Prince?”

　　Matthew Grant feigned surprise.

　　“Still holding out? Useless.” He walked over to River Song, stomped on her head, and laughed, “In my eyes, even the Crown Prince is nothing to fear. You want to fight me? With this foot, you’ll know that an ant is just an ant.”

　　“No!”

　　Amid Olivia Brooks’s desperate cries, Matthew Grant raised his foot and then stomped down hard.

　　As if crushing an ant…

　　……

　　A few ants had been hibernating in their burrow, but their home was dug up for no reason. They could only scurry anxiously across the freshly turned earth before burrowing back underground.

　　Snowflakes were still falling, gradually covering this small patch of new soil with a thin layer of snow.

　　Buried underground was a large vat.

　　Inside the vat, it was pitch black.

　　Ethan Green’s tears had already soaked the front of Charles Reed’s clothes.

　　“Stop crying. You’ll use up too much oxygen and kill us.”

　　“We… we’re going to die…” Ethan Green was panicking, sobbing uncontrollably, and cried again, “I don’t want to die…”

　　“Then stop crying. Stop talking,” Charles Reed said sternly. “Save your breath.”

　　“We’re already…”

　　“Still crying?” Charles Reed threatened fiercely, “If I kill you, I’ll save half the oxygen and have something to stand on.”

　　Ethan Green was so frightened she hiccupped.

　　Immediately after, she felt Charles Reed’s hand on her shoulder, moving up along her neck, caressing her face.

　　“Don’t… I’m really scared…”

　　She wanted to push him away, but was so terrified she froze, her fingers and toes numb.

　　Until Charles Reed reached her hair bun and pulled out her wooden hairpin.

　　Her hair fell loose. Ethan Green was at a loss, her voice trembling, “What… are you doing?”

　　“To pry open the hemp rope.”

　　Charles Reed’s tone was urgent as he tried to steady his breathing, wedging the hairpin into the gap between the lid and the mouth of the vat.

　　A boot was wedged in the gap.

　　He had just pulled it off Ethan Green’s foot and stuffed it in while the soil was still loose.

　　The hemp rope tied the large round vat to the wooden lid, but it could easily slip along the curve. Plus, he had just managed to loosen the rope a bit, so maybe he could pry the lid open a little.

　　After a while, Ethan Green suddenly said, “I… I can get my pinky in…”

　　“Work the rope,” Charles Reed said.

　　He started scraping the dirt outside the gap with the hairpin.

　　Compared to a coffin, the vat was much taller. If buried at the same depth, the soil above the vat would be much thinner than above a coffin.

　　Charles Reed was grateful those people hadn’t bothered to flip the vat upside down.

　　He scraped the dirt around the lid bit by bit into the vat, hoping to create a little room for the lid to move.

　　The hairpin moved with difficulty in the gap, a few grains of dirt falling onto Charles Reed’s face. Compared to the whole layer of soil above, these few grains were a drop in the ocean.

　　After scraping for a long time, Charles Reed’s fingers ached badly. He tried pushing the lid hard.

　　There was a rustling sound as more dirt fell down.

　　“Seems a bit looser?” Ethan Green said in surprise. “I can feel the hemp rope.”

　　With this glimmer of hope, both of them were energized, searching for a more comfortable way to exert force, not caring that they were pressed close together.

　　“Cough, cough, cough…”

　　More and more dirt fell onto Charles Reed’s mouth and nose.

　　“Cover your face,” Ethan Green said.

　　In the darkness, she pushed Charles Reed away, untied her sash and handed it to him, then tore her colorful skirt and tied it over her face.

　　After a long while, Charles Reed increased his efforts, wedging the hairpin between the lid and the vat to see if he could pry it open.

　　He applied force carefully.

　　The lid moved ever so slightly.

　　“Work the rope again, I’m prying.”

　　“Okay.”

　　Finally, they managed to create a small gap above the lid.

　　“Pa.”