C112 You Are the Accomplice.

On the third day's morning, as Zhao Yu was deep in meditation, a stir among the slaves broke his concentration.

"It's that time again."

"Time flies. I thought we had two more days."

Opening his eyes, Zhao Yu saw the slaves pressed against the iron bars, peering outside with tense expressions; some shook with fear.

He rose to his feet just as a burly middle-aged man, likely in his thirties