Even though he had anticipated it, Yaxiu's heart still skipped a beat when he heard that the Blood Moon Trial truly meant execution.
Deep down, he had harbored a few faint fantasies: maybe the people here would realize he wasn't actually the cult leader; maybe he would go through an extensive trial process; maybe there was a two-year reprieve...
Such illusions had peaked after entering the prison. To Yaxiu, how could condemned inmates possibly get their own en-suite rooms with private bathrooms?
How could death row inmates roam the prison freely?
How could death row inmates receive such preferential treatment from the prison?
Langna's words completely shattered all his naive hopes—precisely because they were doomed to die, the prison treated them so well.
"The prison is fattening us up just so we can die a more miserable death?" Yaxiu said with difficulty. "Isn't that a waste of resources?"
"Would you complain about fireworks not exploding brilliantly enough?" Langna chuckled. "I'm surprised. You really don't seem to know much about the Blood Moon Trial. It's a live broadcast in every city. At eight in the evening on the first and fifteenth of every month, most citizens stay home, turn on their light screens, and watch the end of every sinner together. The viewership rating is close to seventy percent.
"By the way, compared to the advertising revenue brought in by the *Blood Moon Trial*, the cost for the prison to keep us fed is completely negligible."
*Watching executions is actually a hit show in this world...*
The corners of Yaxiu's mouth twitched. "That's utterly ridiculous. How can seventy percent of people be watching an entertainment show at eight in the evening? Don't they have overtime? If you ask me, their workloads just aren't saturated enough..."
Langna wasn't surprised in the least by Yaxiu's impotent rage.
He had seen far too many death row inmates make fools of themselves as the Blood Moon Trial drew near—from denouncing the social system on a grand scale down to cursing the ignorance of the populace. As long as you stayed in this prison long enough, you were bound to witness it all.
"But if you want to escape the Blood Moon Trial, it's not like there isn't a way."
Yaxiu instantly perked up. "What way?"
Langna didn't play hard to get, answering bluntly, "Although someone is guaranteed to die in every Blood Moon Trial, eight people are sent each time. Those eight spots aren't fixed; they're ranked by 'contribution points.'
"Every death row inmate starts with 50 contribution points, and 10 points are deducted every month. Not that hitting zero matters much—the prison won't do anything to an inmate just because of that.
"However, the higher a person's contribution points, the further back they are in the trial queue, while those with lower points are placed closer to the front. In theory, the first eight at the front of the queue are the participants in the Blood Moon Trial.
"There are many ways to earn contribution points, the simplest of which is creating value. Although memory masters extracted all our memories before we entered prison, rendering our intelligence worthless, we still have plenty of ways to contribute:
"Some were sent here for dereliction of duty and corruption, so they can provide institutional reform proposals to reduce the chances of future corruption;
"Some came in for illegal experiments, so they can continue conducting legal experiments and writing papers in prison;
"Some are naturally gifted in various talents, and some have even written bestselling books from inside prison—which naturally counts as creating value.
"But in this prison, most people are murderers who came in for killing, without any special creative talents—like me."
Langna pointed at Yaxiu. "Like you.
"So how do we earn contribution points? The Death Match Club is our answer."
Yaxiu realized something. "You said earlier that participating in death matches comes at a price..."
"Apart from death and pain, the greatest cost of a death match is the transfer of contribution points," Langna said. "In every death match, both sides must wager a certain amount of contribution points. The victor escapes the Blood Moon, while the loser faces judgment.
"If the Blood Moon Trial is the dead end, the Death Match Club is the sea of blood along the path. In the end, almost every death row convict takes part in the death matches, betting their last shred of contribution and draining their last drop of blood, before stepping onto the universally watched live broadcast in the most despairing state imaginable.
"That is how we contribute—weeding out the weak and keeping our ferocity alive!
"That's also why the prison allows the Death Match Club to exist." Langna's voice was as calm as if he were discussing someone else's business. "Before taking the stage, actors always need their makeup."
Actors always had to put on makeup, otherwise the audience wouldn't care to watch.
Even without having seen the Blood Moon Trial, Yaxiu understood what Langna meant.
Just like making exquisite character splash art for mobile games, the so-called 'death matches' were simply the process of turning condemned inmates into character portraits: gambling, fighting, despair, terror, agony... Nothing stoked a person's bloodthirsty ferocity quite like a life-or-death battle.
When a death row convict grew hysterical from pain and driven into frantic despair by fear after repeatedly losing death matches, he became an 'entree' ready to be served. What would be presented before the audience at that point was a 'beast' brimming with vicious ferocity, fierce defiance, and sheer terror.
Compared to a numb, withered, dull 'human,' slaughtering a 'beast' that still seemed to dare to resist was naturally far more entertaining to watch.
It was an open conspiracy—an overt scheme that death row inmates couldn't refuse.
Not only did the losers turn into the product the prison needed, fetching a 'good price' during the broadcast, but the winners were merely drinking poison to quench their thirst. One day, they too would appear on the livestream, meeting the exact same end.
From the very beginning, these death row convicts had only one outcome: drained of every ounce of value by the prison, and then killed. Rooms with en-suite bathrooms, good food, and comprehensive facilities were all just meant to fatten them up.
The so-called trial queue was essentially an involution mechanism—a zero-sum game where either you faced trial, or I was executed.
Then again, it was entirely reasonable. Who told them to break the law and become death row inmates?
And if a convict didn't want to be exploited, they could just lie flat and wait to die; it was only wanting to survive that dragged them into the rat race.
If Yaxiu were outside the prison, he would surely applaud this system while enjoying some popcorn on the sidelines.
Too bad Heath had not only been a cult leader, but such a pathetic one at that, dragging Yaxiu into prison alongside him. Now, Yaxiu had no choice but to find another way out.
"Having heard all that, do you still want to join the Death Match Club?"
"Of course!"
Langna wasn't surprised. Finishing his milk, he let out a burp. "Then follow me. If we're lucky, we might even catch a steaming-fresh corpse when we get there."
"People are already fighting to the death this early in the morning?" Yaxiu asked curiously.
"Though you have to wager contribution points in a death match, you don't have to bet a lot right from the start. You only need to wager one point for the first match, and every subsequent match requires one point more than the last. Two points for the second, three for the third, and so on.
"While the wagers add up to quite a lot over time, even if you lose all of your first five matches, you still have a chance to turn things around. That's why everyone tries to make the most of those first five matches—gauging the strength of others and assessing their own standing in the prison.
"That's why death matches happen quite frequently; one a day is completely normal. There are only a few days left until the fifteenth, so the ones ranked at the bottom are bound to try escaping the trial through death matches. I'd wager the blood on the ring won't even dry these next few days.
"Speaking of which, do you want to buy some meat?"
Yaxiu blinked. "Meat? What kind of meat?"
"The meat that falls onto the ring. It's one of the few ways we can spend contribution points. Once flesh drops onto the arena, it belongs to the prison, but we can buy it back from them."
Langna glanced back at Yaxiu, baring two neat rows of pale teeth. "If you're lucky, you can get thigh meat. Whether eaten raw as sashimi or cooked, the texture is fantastic. Highly recommended."
Chapter 16