Later that day, the slave trader arrived with another group of people.

"Is this the barbarian woman who brought disgrace to the famous Eunriel family?" one person said with a chuckle, "the one who caused trouble for Governor Sirel's son, Arshul?"

The northern woman lay on a pile of straw, raised her eyelids, and looked briefly, then shifted her gaze away.

These were several teenage boys, around 17 or 18 years old. Unlike Lucius and the slave trader, the boys' skin was black as coal and they were all bald and had shaved eyebrows. They wore long red silk robes with wind caps, adorned with shiny silver threads and fine gold buttons on the sleeves and collar. Several people were shoulder to shoulder, giggling and laughing, not caring about the nauseating stench in the prison.

The slave trader stood beside these frivolous young people, calling them "Your Limitless Future High Priests," nodding and bowing, even more humble than when he greeted Lucius that morning.

"Her skin is as beautiful as salt and silver," the speaker marveled. "Is this color common among women in the North?"

"It should be," another person said. "The High Priest says that the pale skin of the northern people is a mark of their ignorance. They do not believe in the great Katanosoa and do not understand the significance of Niyara."

The first person gasped, "This cannot be!"

"If you paid more attention in geography class, you wouldn't utter such uncultured remarks," the second person sighed. "The High Priest says that the people of the North only worship two ancestral spirits. Men worship Kroam, honored as the god of land, harvest, forge, and wisdom. Women worship Freya, who is honored as the goddess of fertility, love, female warriors, and magic. According to scholars, these two names should have belonged to the chiefs of two tribal alliances of the North a long time ago."

The first person was stunned, showing a disgusted expression.

"What foolishness," he said, "these primitive people who don't know the power of the real deity. They worship and pray to something nonexistent, yet they don't know that they cannot possibly receive a response... it's simply too ignorant."

He rubbed his chin, staring at the body on the straw pile in a trance, "Maybe I should buy this poor mare and show her the truth, save her from ignorance, and lead her on the right path."

The second person laughed.

"Be careful, Ashur just made a statement, whoever buys her will become the enemy of their family."

"That kid has too high an opinion of himself," the previous person said lazily, "what is he? Trash, a spoiled brat, brings shame to the whole family! General Xiner has just returned victorious from his southern conquest, riding in four war chariots captured from the conquered kings, along the way the streets and alleys displayed hundreds of cages filled with captive noblemen. As soon as he entered the house, he saw his beloved son, who had been cut off by a barbarian, crying loudly... If I were Xiner, I would have drowned the kid in a basin when he was born."

So everyone burst out laughing.

The slave trader also laughed while wiping sweat.

"I heard it's pretty vicious," the second person said, "I wonder if the doctor is skillful enough to take it back?"

The previous person laughed and raised his voice, "I'm a little curious," he shouted, "Come over here, mare! Let me see that face that makes Arslan dizzy!"

The northern woman lay there, thinking of her thoughts, indifferent to the calls from outside the fence.

She covered her belly with her hand.

At this moment, her belly growled, her head was dizzy, and her hands and feet were weak. For some reason, the slave trader had not given her food or water all day.

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This made her secretly alarmed.

"Respected elders, priests," the slave trader said respectfully, "Sir Ashel has already made arrangements for this slave. If you could kindly condescend and visit the small hall in the slave trader's quarters, you will be able to see it soon."

The northern woman lay hungry and tired on the pile of thatched roofing, closing her eyes and regaining her strength, listening to the group of people laughing and talking as they walked away outside the fence.

But a slight, even breathing outside the fence reminded her that there was still one person who had not left.

She lay there for a while longer, unable to resist rolling over, opening her jade-like eyes, and sitting up from the pile of thatched roofing.

She saw that the outline of one person was still outside the fence, quietly standing in the shadow of the prison corridor two rows of white teeth li in the dark shadows up: "Hello, mare."

Her muscles tensed slightly.

This light-hearted tone was indeed the same person who had been talking for a long time before. But his voice, it seemed to have gone with the crowd just now... How did it stay behind?

"Indeed beautiful, the mare cast in silver," the shadow spoke with a mesmerizing tone, saying words she couldn't understand, "What does the string of runes tattooed on your back mean? Ah, you probably don't know what you will be facing soon. You've offended a powerful person..."

He stopped speaking and sighed, "Actually, the things I just said, you didn't understand a word, right?"

She had been staring at him coldly, but now her eyebrows rose.

In his last sentence, she suddenly understood.

Not really.

She realized that his final words were not spoken in language, but rather projected directly into her mind.

She tentatively asked, "Magic... are you a male witch from Assyria?"

The shadow laughed.

"Servant, I am a servant of Naelat," he answered her from the shadows, "I saw the runes of Nifl engraved on your back spine... Are you the servant of your Freyja?"

She shook her head.

The amber-like eyes released hatred and anger without reservation.

"When the battle was to the death, I gave up resistance," she said calmly, "I no longer have the qualifications to go to the Einzbern Temple. I live with the only purpose of finding my family and taking her away. Servant, what do you want from me?"

"Clever," the person in the shadows praised, "The man who came in the morning, Lucien, is my friend. He asked me to bring this to you."

Before she could understand what he meant, the temperature from her fingertips suddenly came, making her unconsciously lower her head and then open her eyes wide.

On the previously empty thatch beside her, there was suddenly a hot pastry.

She was slightly moved, and when she looked back at the corner of the darkness, she found that there was no one in the darkness.

The next moment, she grabbed the pastry, quickly stuffed it into her mouth, tore it into pieces, and swallowed it without even chewing.

She could hear the approaching footsteps of the slave trader and his minions.

The slave trader pulled out a large key chain and poked the gate open, then roughly pushed it open.

There were shadows outside the fence.

Two tall, muscular henchmen entered the prison, armed with long poles.

"Be good and listen," said the slave trader outside, "or you'll get a big headache."

She appeared not to understand or even hear.

She simply looked down, not resisting.

The two henchmen lifted her shackles over her head and fastened them to the iron ring on the wall. One of them whistled while the other twisted her chest.

Then her ankle shackles were also fastened to the iron ring at the bottom of the wall.

The slave trader beckons two trembling female slaves standing outside the door. They struggled to enter the prison while carrying heavy buckets of water.

She recognized them.

On her first day in the small cell, they tried to approach her following the slave trader's orders, but she kicked them out with a foot.

Ice-cold water was poured on her.

One bucket.

Then another.

She almost moaned with pleasure, quickly licking the remaining water stains on her lips, and sucking the beads of water on her arm. The greedy look made the slave trader and the thugs laugh out loud.

The slave trader laughed loudly: "Two days without food and water, even the stubborn must submit."

"Wash this wild horse clean for me," the slave trader commanded loudly, "from this head's Yin and Yang's hair to these two big feet, the top [buzz] and the bottom [buzz], give me every seam, every hole, inside and outside, rub it clean for me, don't leave a bit of dirt."

The woman faced the dirty words in front of her and dared not to touch her, which made the slave trader's face red and pleased.

He happily rubbed his hands, "The stage has been set up, it's your turn. Lord Ashur has prepared a gorgeous revenge program for you, guaranteed to please everyone."

She listened without a word.

The magic spell cast by the Assyrian wizard is still in effect, and she understands every word the slave trader says.

Two female slaves with mane brushes roughly brush their bodies. They brush their teeth with effort, the strength is so great that they almost scrape off her skin.

She knows they are reporting their grudges, but she doesn't care. Their strength and the short-faced bear and cave lion's slap are too gentle.

Despite this, she still appeared to shrink away, twisting her waist to move her hips, thighs, and arms.

She breathed a satisfied sigh and the pastry and water she had just eaten had now transformed into strength, restoring her condition to a certain extent.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, tinged with a reddish-yellow hue.

Yes, I guarantee to "please" everyone.