Chapter 8 Save Every Innocent Person Like Us

On the slightly cool night, the slaves in the mining area were still vigorously chipping at the ores, like machines that would never get tired. Gradually, the temperature at night rose a little bit, then a little more. It was not until the slaves couldn't bear it and raised their hands to wipe the sweat that someone saw the fierce blaze that had broken out. A slave with burn marks on his body immediately fell to the ground. "Fire! Fire!" His scars were left when Ardashir pushed him into the fire. "Don't slack off! Don't say there's a fire. Even if you're going to be burned to death the next moment, you have to keep working!" The guard's raised long whip lashed mercilessly onto the burn marks. The nearby slaves chipped at the ores sporadically, their eyes dull and lifeless, filled with nothing but despair. In this hell for slaves, where hopelessness hung thick in the air, they could never think of any other way out. The shouts of the guards could be heard from afar. Annoyed by the commotion outside, Ardashir stormed out in a fit of rage. He casually grabbed a passing guard and demanded in a shrill voice, like the screeching of iron, "What's going on?" The guard he grabbed lowered his head, his voice panicked. "M - my lord, there's a fire in the residential area in the east." Ardashir's anger flared up suddenly. He fiercely grabbed the guard's collar and yanked him forward. The standing cap on the guard's head fell off and covered his face. "If there's a fire, then go put it out! What are you being fed for!" The residences in the east area were the most elaborate buildings where the city lord and senior soldiers lived. Naturally, Ardashir flew into a rage upon hearing this. The guard cowered and hesitantly whispered, "I saw Miss Elythia going towards the east too." "You useless wretch!" As expected, Ardashir became even more enraged. But he didn't have any extra time to vent his anger. He threw off the guard's collar and rushed towards the east in a hurry. What he didn't see was that the soldier behind him caught the slipping standing cap, and a look of understanding appeared on his handsome face. Atar knew he was right. Ardashir's concern for Elythia was an important factor that could be exploited. In the haystack beside the wooden house, the beautiful girl was sound asleep, unaware of the outside commotion. Atar retied the standing cap and put it on his head firmly. With a big step, he leaped into the wooden house. As soon as he entered the door, Atar smelled a thick stench of blood. Inside the house, the thin young man sitting behind the table had fallen forward onto it. His left hand was spread out, with slender silver needles densely stuck in the back of his hand, piercing through his palm and nailing it firmly to the table. It was a terrifying sight. Atar walked over quickly. He didn't dare to pat the slave, but just asked with concern, "Wake up. Can you still walk?" If the slave stayed there, Ardashir might vent his anger and inflict even more severe private punishments on him. The slave was almost like a startled bird. Even the slightest sound from the outside woke him up abruptly. His empty eyes slowly shifted to Atar. When he saw Atar's guard uniform, he suddenly jumped up. With a violent tug, his palm retracted. In an instant, several silver needles pierced through his palm, rubbing against the tender flesh inside. "Ah..." His hoarse voice could barely make a sound, and his pupils constricted in pain. "I'm not a soldier," Atar instantly understood why the slave was startled. He pulled down the collar with his right hand, revealing the slave tattoo engraved on his collarbone to the air. "I'm here to save you." He stretched out his hand, his eyes gentle yet decisive. "There's no time to lose. Let's go quickly." "Go..." Omid opened his mouth, looking blank and clueless. Atar didn't give him any more time to be slow. He forcefully grabbed his hand and stepped outside. Omid's eyes were dull. His numb left hand felt no pain at all. He stared blankly at their joined hands as they moved, then looked up at the tall figure in front of him. It was like... a beam of light. Kaveh paced back and forth in the mine. His wound had been properly treated and bandaged, but his heart was pounding with unease. He had never thought that he would have such courage in his old age. First, near the residential area in the east, he pushed down the huge stone that Atar had prepared in advance to prevent anyone from dying in the fire and overly angering City Lord Ardashir. Then, he and Atar set fire to the residential area in the east, which eventually turned into a raging inferno. Kaveh had originally wanted to reject Atar's plan. But —— "You've said you're no different from a dead man. Why are you still afraid to take a gamble with me? At least this way, when you meet your old friends in hell after you die, you'll have something to brag about." Those eyes blazing with fire were as if his old friend was standing right in front of him alive, stretching out an invitation to go forward together. Decades ago, Kaveh had backed down, broken his vow, and managed to survive in Zaravash. But the old and dying Kaveh didn't want to make a choice that he would regret. The rapid sound of footsteps came from the entrance of the mine. Kaveh looked up and saw Atar dragging a stranger in. He quickly rushed forward to take over the injured person. He saw the obvious marks on Omid's hand. It was clearly Ardashir's doing. His voice, full of years of wear and tear, was filled with disbelief. "You set that fire just to save one person?" A fire that was powerful enough to shake the entire mining area was just to rescue one trapped slave. In the face of Kaveh's doubts, Atar was unhurried. He took off the blood-stained white gloves. "It wasn't to save just one person." "Rather, it's to save every innocent person like us." Since he had seen their suffering, he couldn't turn a blind eye. "You're staking everyone's lives on this!" Kaveh felt desperate. He pressed his hand to his chest and gasped for breath. This was too reckless! Just like before, it was nothing but a senseless sacrifice. "Don't worry." Atar smiled reassuringly. Soon, Ardashir won't have the time to worry about this fire. There are more urgent matters waiting for him to deal with." The army of Duzakh was about to arrive. The residential area in the east was ablaze, while the western part of the mining area, where no one was around, was in stark contrast, with one mining pit after another exposed. In the pitch-black night sky, the moon had risen to the exact center of the sky. The sunken mining pit formed a semicircle. When Tirdad arrived, he immediately saw the figure in the pit. Dressed in a guard's uniform, the figure's back was ramrod straight. Upon hearing the footsteps behind, he suddenly turned his head, his eyes sharp. Tirdad slid into the mining pit. The gravel under his feet rolled away as he descended. He walked up to Atar and handed a scroll of parchment to the person standing there. "Sorry to have kept you waiting. Here is the topographic map of the city of Zaravash." Atar took the scroll of parchment and, as if chatting casually, said, "Did you see that? The big fire in the east." Tirdad was taken aback for a moment. The words he was about to say were interrupted by Atar, but he quickly came to his senses and lowered his voice. "Did you set that fire?" "Yes. It proves my determination, my sincerity, and the foundation of our cooperation." Atar grasped the edge of the paper and gave it a shake, and the entire parchment unfurled. But instead of looking at each marked trace on it, he turned his eyes to meet Tirdad's. "You and I don't have a master-servant relationship. It's impossible for you to see me as a tool and use my slave status to win the trust of other slaves." The bright moonlight shone on him, coating him with a white sheen. "You're here for the righteousness you uphold, and I'm here for the safety of the city of Zaravash. We're just partners." As Atar said this, he held out his hand in the moonlight. His hand was covered with calluses but looked particularly bright in the moonlight. Tirdad was shocked that Atar had seen through his thoughts. He shifted his gaze to the other hand and let out a helpless laugh. "I admit I had such thoughts. But not anymore. No, I'm quite glad." He wasn't moving forward alone. Even though their goals were different, at least the path they wanted to take was the same. Their hands clasped together at this moment. Atar shook the parchment map in his hand. "Since everything's out in the open, you should have something else more useful, right?" A map like this could also be drawn by Kaveh, who had lived in the mining area for years and even failed to escape once. Tirdad shrugged, drew out a small knife and slit the fabric. A small piece of paper sewn between the two layers of cloth was pulled out. "Originally, I just wanted to keep this for myself." The paper was covered with small, densely written words, with detailed illustrations beside them. Atar took the paper and compared it with the parchment map in his hand. A flood of information rushed into his mind all at once, as if causing a buzzing sound. He subtly held his head and muttered to himself, "The initial attack is scheduled for the day after tomorrow, and the location is the Colosseum?"