Chapter Thirteen: The Dangerous Death Row Inmate

“Promise me, sister, survive tonight.” Dongguan winked playfully at Mu You, twisted her hips, and drifted away…

Within the Death Row Paradise, a universal electronic currency called 'points' was used. Upon arriving at the cafeteria, Mu You noticed the stark difference in meal quality—cheap dishes cost just a few points, while the expensive ones reached tens of thousands. He even spotted ingredients like Kobe lobster. With only a hundred points left in his account, he ordered soy milk and fried dough sticks at random, leaving himself with just ninety points.

So expensive. If he didn’t earn more, he could last only three days at most.

Mu You found a secluded corner to sit in. Glancing around with the corner of his eye to make sure no one was watching, he hurriedly stuffed an entire fried dough stick into his mouth, chewing desperately. He hadn’t eaten for three whole days, and hunger gnawed at his stomach.

He gulped down a large mouthful of soy milk, lowered his head, and inhaled deeply, forcing the fried dough stick down his esophagus and into his stomach. Warmth spread through his body.

With a long sigh, he finally felt a bit better.

But Mu You did not raise his head. His chewing slowed, his eyes narrowed, and the panic in his gaze was gradually devoured by a cold, resolute light.

Death Row Paradise—its reputation is well deserved.

First: Surveillance here is nonstop, twenty-four hours a day. No matter how private your actions.

Second: The inmates—not just the condemned, but everyone—have been altered.

Third: Not only had he awakened supernatural abilities, but it seemed everyone here had, each unique. However, due to the restriction of the 'Final Punishment', the condemned could not use theirs, but the administrators could—Dongguan, for example.

Fourth: Never provoke the management. That scream in the morning, Mu You heard it clearly. The condemned have no rights.

Fifth: Looking at his own smooth-as-glass 'Final Punishment', Mu You sighed. Apparently, there were ranks among the condemned; he hadn’t been assigned a code like the prison matron, so he must be the lowest tier.

Mu You closed his eyes again, his shoulders relaxing. For now, the chance of overturning Death Row Paradise was nearly nonexistent. He had to keep playing the fool, diminish the attention of those in power, and await an opportunity.

The light in front of him dimmed a little, and he heard the sound of a chair moving. Mu You frowned; he had deliberately chosen a remote spot, so who was bored enough to come over?

He looked up, his gaze returning to composure, and stared with a hint of 'confusion' at the middle-aged woman who sat before him.

Her 'Final Punishment' showed nothing—she seemed to be just another ordinary condemned.

“Not full yet, are you? Here.” She smiled gently and pushed a large tray of steamed buns toward Mu You. She took one herself, dipped it evenly in soy sauce and vinegar, placed it on his plate, and seeing his 'dazed' expression, affectionately patted his head.

“Don’t just sit there, eat while it’s hot. Beef filling. You’re not grown yet, you need the nutrition.”

Mu You bit into the bun instinctively—it was delicious. Who would have thought prison buns could taste so good? He glanced at the price: one hundred and twenty points. No wonder it was expensive.

Kindness without cause is either traitorous or thieving.

But Mu You accepted it all, wolfing down half the tray in a whirlwind. He wiped his mouth and gave her a broad, honest smile.

The woman was surprised by his appetite, then smiled as she finished her own bun and packed the rest into Mu You’s bag.

Mu You noticed that when she opened his backpack, her eyes locked onto the candy inside. He didn’t know its purpose, but it was clearly important to the condemned here.

He thought she might steal the candy, but she did not. After placing the meat buns inside, she handed the backpack back to him and asked, “Child, are you the dangerous condemned from Ward Zero?”

Mu You took the bag, nodded noncommittally.

She seemed delighted by his confirmation, though she tried to hide it. After his modification, Mu You’s senses were heightened, and he caught the subtle shift.

“Auntie, can I ask what crime you committed?”

“Murders. The Beiran massacre, the Lesong bombing—fifty-seven lives, all at my hands,” Mu You replied calmly.

The woman was briefly startled, looking at him with surprise, but showed no panic—on the contrary, she gently stroked his head, even more tenderly. “Child, in this unfamiliar place, if you don’t mind, call me Aunt He.”

“Alright, Aunt He. I’ll be counting on you from now on.”

“Good boy.” Aunt He’s smile deepened. “This Death Row Paradise is ugly and cruel. To survive, you need allies. Stick with me, Aunt He.”

So she finally revealed her intentions—trying to make him follow her lead? Impossible.

Mu You thought this, but outwardly nodded 'happily'.

Aunt He was pleased by his straightforwardness, then hesitated, but still asked, “Since we’re family now, let’s not be strangers. Do you have anything… different from the others?”

Halfway through, her words became vague, and she made a few cryptic gestures in front of Mu You.

“Aunt He, what do you mean?” Mu You was puzzled.

Aunt He leaned in, whispering carefully, “Mu You, you must have special abilities, right? Can you tell Aunt He? Not to pry, but with your abilities and my connections, we could earn a fortune in points here. Enough points can reduce your sentence.”

She patted his shoulder meaningfully, full of expectation.

Mu You pondered, then muttered as if to himself, “I don’t have any special abilities, just the skill to precisely detonate bombs. Are there people here with superpowers?”

Aunt He grew anxious, but continued probing, “Has your blood changed in any unusual way?”

Looking at Aunt He’s eager gaze, Mu You finally understood—not all condemned had been modified, or perhaps not all modifications succeeded.

Apparently, successful cases were rare; he was one of them. No wonder—if everyone were so powerful, Death Row Paradise could not contain them.

What exactly had that headless blood man done to him?

“Does one need superpowers to be classified as ‘dangerous’?” Mu You asked.

Aunt He didn’t answer, but scrutinized his thin frame suspiciously, her earlier enthusiasm gone, though she still nodded.

“Nine o’clock—all condemned assemble at the A Tower lookout. Repeat, nine o’clock—all condemned at the A Tower lookout!”

“Come with me.” Aunt He smiled at Mu You upon hearing the announcement and led the way.

Death Row Paradise was divided into two wings, each with six buildings labeled from A to L. Every building had its own observation deck, a transparent platform extending into the air, forming the skeletal structure of the bat-shaped complex.

Standing there, Mu You finally appreciated the marvels of modern technology. Nearly ten thousand square meters of giant glass stretched beneath their feet without a single seam. Around the platform, enormous steel spikes rose, each bristling with barbed hooks. Forget escaping—approaching the edge was nearly impossible.

Mu You lived on the thirteenth floor, the top level, so his group stood at the front. A hundred people formed a row, yet it never felt crowded.

He wanted to stand somewhere inconspicuous, but to his dismay, he was placed in the front row. Muttering curses, he moved to the least noticeable spot by the edge and looked around.

And what he saw stunned him.

Even at the far end of the front row, everyone stared at him as if he were an idiot. Mu You’s spine chilled; he instinctively stepped out of line, searching for a more obscure place.

But wherever he went, the other condemned wouldn’t let him pass. They kept their eyes fixed on him. At last, unable to bear it, Mu You looked to Aunt He for help.

Aunt He seemed reluctant to associate with him in public, but spoke up, “You’re a dangerous condemned—you should stand at the very front.”

After she spoke, most people pointed, directing his gaze to the first spot—the most prominent position on the platform.

“Damn!” Mu You’s face darkened, and he couldn’t help but blurt it out.