Taking on the appearance of Scarface, Lu Ce still felt a bit off—he hadn’t exactly made an effort to rember what this guy looked like.
Just so minor character, a last-minute idea to make use of.
But whatever, as long as it wasn’t his own face and looked roughly convincing, that was enough.
As long as this face could get Scarface killed, and he could achieve his own goals in the process, it’d all be worth it.
So far, no one really knew he could change his face at will—at most, probably just the prison guard, and soon, maybe the Warden too.
While there was still ti, of course he was going to make the most of this opportunity.
Wearing Scarface’s mug, he headed straight for the area with the most people.
It was a large courtyard with a bunch of workout equipnt, where prisoners were gathered, the atmosphere somber.
After all, this was a prison where torture and death could co at any mont—no one here could really stay ntally balanced.
Well, except for Lu Ce. His whole mindset was about torturing others anyway. And if he ended up getting tortured? Perfect chance to farm so Pain Points.
He was in a completely closed logical loop at this point—pretty much bulletproof.
A quick glance around and he confird one thing—there were no won here.
Which ant Xie Antong wasn’t here.
Good. It gave him more freedom to move. Otherwise, it’d feel like soone was watching him all the ti.
He looked up at the sky.
As for whether the Know-it-All Eye would pose a problem... well, nothing he could do about that. Let it watch.
He walked into the crowd, randomly grabbed soone and asked:
"Hey, did you get fed today?"
Other guy: !?
He imdiately yanked his hand away, face twisted in disgust as he cursed:
"You sick in the head? Hope you get fed soon!"
Lu Ce walked up to soone else and grabbed them too, asking:
"You wanna go get fed? What’s it feel like?"
"F*** off! You got a death wish?!"
......
Lu Ce kept randomly picking people out of the crowd to harass. Every single one cursed at him, but he wasn’t mad. Watching them lose their minds was actually pretty fun.
Every few minutes, he found himself admiring that envious bastard.
Gotta admit—when you drop all pretenses and act like a beast, life’s kinda sweet.
He kept asking the sa question over and over, trying to figure out what "feeding" really ant.
Just asking outright would give him away too quickly. But this insane, lowlife persona? Easy to hide behind.
Feeding... definitely not a good thing. Based on the wording, it probably didn’t an the prisoners were feeding sothing.
More likely, they were the ones being fed—to sothing.
These guys weren’t feeders. They were the feed.
But while he was busy interrogating people, soone had been watching him from a distance, quietly deep in thought.
Just as Lu Ce had beco completely despised by everyone, the man stepped forward a few steps.
"Bro, player?"
The man slipped up beside Lu Ce and whispered.
He had sharp instincts—he could tell Lu Ce wasn’t like the rest of these walking corpses.
Lu Ce glanced at him, clearly up to no good, giving him a slow scan from head to toe.
The man felt super uncomfortable, like he was being sized up at a nightclub. Still, he pressed on:
"Bro, I go by Cutter—that’s my codena. You heard of ? What’s yours?"
"Nice to et you. You’re a player too, right?"
Lu Ce looked at him and suddenly shouted:
"Player? What player? You like playing gas? You can play gas in prison?!"
Cutter: ?
Several people nearby turned to look thanks to Lu Ce’s yelling. Cutter panicked and quickly lowered his voice.
"Why are you yelling?! Hey... keep it down!"
Lu Ce yelled even louder: "Why should I keep it down?! What’s the problem? Being a player’s not shaful! I think it’s great! I’m good at gas!"
"What do you like to play? I—"
Cutter couldn’t even get a word in. He just wanted to crawl into a hole. He ran off imdiately, disappearing into the crowd.
Sh*t! Got the wrong guy! He’s not a player at all!
What a damn lunatic! Why the hell is there a psycho in prison? Aren’t they exempt from legal responsibility?
Muttering curses in his head, Cutter sulked off to a corner to re-evaluate his escape plan.
A few minutes later, a familiar scarred face appeared in front of him and said sothing that twisted his soul:
"Hey bro, I’m a player too."
Cutter: .....
"F*** you!"
"Whoa, what’s with the na-calling? You sure you’re not the psycho here?" Lu Ce patted him on the head.
Cutter’s chest heaved, emotions fraying, but he quickly cald himself—had to stay focused on the bigger picture.
After a mont, he said coldly:
"I’ve got a plan to escape. You in?"
"I’m in."
"I... wait, what?" Cutter froze. That was it? Just like that?
Looking at the guy’s feral face and manic attitude, Cutter started to hesitate.
"I need to see what you’re capable of. As for —"
"No problem. Watch closely." Lu Ce cut him off before he could finish and imdiately started scanning the crowd for a target.
Cutter stared blankly at him, feeling like his brain couldn’t keep up.
Was this guy even listening to him?
While he stood there confused, Lu Ce had already walked up to a bald, tatted brute surrounded by a few others.
Clearly, the guy in the center was the ringleader.
They were hogging a section of gym equipnt, lifting weights like clockwork.
Lifting weights in prison? So disciplined. Lu Ce had to respect that.
He walked right up and said to the boss:
"Hey, do you know ?"
"Who the f*** are you?" the brute squinted, sneering. "C’mon, let get to know you."
"Sure thing." Lu Ce nodded obediently.
Then swung a full-power slap straight across the guy’s face.
It looked brutal, but he’d actually held back just enough not to kill him.
SMACK!!
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