Chapter 805: One Hundred and Fifty, Eight Palms

One Hundred and Fifty, Eight Palms

Merit cannot be spent so lavishly; it must be used sparingly.

After inspecting the small wooden fish, Ouyang Rong sighed softly in his heart.

Returning down the mountain to reunite with Xiao Xuan and the others in Taoyuan Town, he still had to visit Lu Changgeng’s grave and enter the circular hall once more—the bronze door in the tomb passage required another portion of merit-purple mist to open.

Descending the stairs, he saw the wooden gate ahead and walked toward it, silently thinking.

Actually, verifying whether the merit spent over these two nights was worth it was simple.

All he needed to do was see if Yun Xiangyi had returned.

Clearly, these merits had been invested on the blade’s edge.

Ouyang Rong pushed open the wooden gate, glanced at the still-empty Wuzui, devoid of the White Robe Lady’s figure, and thought silently.

Moreover, if he had consumed merit-purple mist to threaten and intimidate Miss Zhishuang, yet Yun Xiangyi suddenly returned from the Lady’s Hall, reversing his strategy,

it would also indirectly confirm one thing.

That is, Miss Zhishuang and the Lady’s Hall had already prepared countermeasures against him, the Master of Butterfly Love, with backup plans in place and no longer needed Yun Xiangyi.

If so, Ouyang Rong ought to be cautious and unnecessary to further waste merit-purple mist on intimidating Miss Zhishuang.

After organizing his thoughts, Ouyang Rong set down the food box, turned, and walked out the wooden gate, then returned upstairs to retrieve the remaining food boxes.

Having done this, Ouyang Rong stood beside the entrance gate, glancing at the inner wooden gate within.

He who once craved entry to this door now had no intention of going in.

Several food boxes were placed beside the wooden gate.

Ouyang Rong walked around the room, found a corner near the door, and sat down.

He did not sit at the table where Yun Xiangyi had read the sutras.

Ouyang Rong fixed his gaze on the eternal candle flame atop the table, sat cross-legged, leaned against the cold, hard wall, with several lacquered food boxes beside him.

He closed his eyes and pretended to nap.

Soon, seconds ticked by; the candle flame on the table flickered intermittently. Though both wooden gates before and behind were tightly shut, some unseen draft seemed to creep into this small room.

At this moment, the dull youth breathed evenly, as if slacking off, dozing on the floor.

His faint snores echoed within the room.

How long had passed? Midnight had long since passed. Within this underground prison, one heard no sounds from aboveground and struggled to gauge time’s passage, especially within this half-enclosed space, where time felt sluggish.

At one moment, the dull youth lying on the floor stirred, as if half-awake, stretched lazily, and slowly rose to his feet.

He glanced around the empty room, feigned haste, grabbed the food boxes, and hurried toward the inner wooden gate.

Following the familiar staircase, he ascended quickly and reached the corridor.

Black water curtains stood silently on both sides of the corridor.

Ouyang Rong, who had delivered the vegetarian meal late today, was unsure whether this silence was due to the water curtains’ soundproofing.

He swiftly scanned the surroundings.

The prison remained dimly lit; the eight water curtain doors were still pitch-black.

Though there were slight differences in light, the overall tone remained dark.

No clear distinction could be made.

Ouyang Rong did not rush, for according to his estimate, it was not yet dawn—there was still a little time left.

The dull youth began placing down the food boxes, deliberately slowing his movements as he delivered the vegetarian meals into the cells on both sides of the corridor.

After delivering the meals, he stopped before Cell “Bing,” choosing not to proceed deeper into the corridor, instead turning back to observe the eight cells from which meals had been taken.

Today, the speed at which they withdrew the food boxes from behind the doors was noticeably faster than usual.

It seemed they had noticed the delay in meal delivery.

Though time felt blurred within the water prison, where inmates could hardly distinguish hours, hunger remained the most punctual of clocks.

Ouyang Rong absorbed every small detail along the corridor, pretending not to notice.

Soon, he stood alone at the corridor’s entrance, waiting silently.

Logically, he could not leave yet—he must wait until the prisoners finished their meals.

As Ouyang Rong yawned while waiting, he occasionally lifted his gaze to observe his surroundings.

Especially the brightness of the black water curtain doors and the luminance of the faint glow on the ceiling rocks.

He observed with exceptional care.

Tonight’s vegetarian meal was delivered unusually late; he wondered idly whether the prisoners were annoyed—except, of course, for the patient, kind-hearted Old Daoist Sun.

As Ouyang Rong drifted in thought, it came to him unbidden.

At that moment, a series of crisp wooden fish knocks echoed beside his ear.

Not many—about fifty or sixty.

Yet they startled Ouyang Rong.

This modest increase in merit matched exactly the daily gain after delivering the evening meal.

And though the meal was delivered late, it was now obvious where this merit had come from.

Ouyang Rong felt a twinge of embarrassment.

He turned his head toward the surrounding black water curtain doors.

Who, he wondered, was so grateful?

Of course, first eliminate the sarcastic Old Daoist Sun.

Moreover, he had feigned sleep and delivered the meal late, yet no one deducted his merit.

Ouyang Rong felt even more ashamed.

At this very moment, Ouyang Rong suddenly sensed something had changed around him.

Looking closely, the entire environment seemed brighter.

Due to being immersed in it, he had nearly overlooked it—but now that he noticed, he immediately scanned around and realized the entire prison had brightened several degrees, as if windows had been opened.

And if his estimation was correct, it should now be dawn outside.

His hypothesis was confirmed.

Ouyang Rong felt greatly encouraged.

He immediately turned to the “Bing”-marked cell beside him, frowned, and stared intently at the changes in the black water curtain door.

The black color of the curtain was gradually fading.

Or rather, it wasn’t fading—it was reverting.

If one were to use a vivid analogy, it was as if a black curtain over a window were being slowly drawn aside by someone inside.

But as he watched, Ouyang Rong’s brow furrowed, and his earlier joy dimmed.

Because it differed from his expectations.

The curtain had been pulled away, the black veil removed, yet the water curtain itself remained like a fogged glass pane blocking the doorway.

Making it difficult to discern the details within.

Ouyang Rong leaned closer, then quickly abandoned the attempt, his expression turning entirely neutral, as if lost in thought.

In other words, his goal had been achieved—but not entirely.

First, his hypothesis was correct.

Each night when he delivered meals, the black water curtain doors and the dark corridor were characteristic of nighttime.

The entire prison, however it was constructed and whatever mysterious array it employed, adapted automatically to the brightness or darkness of the outside sky.

But the reason his goal was only partially achieved was because he had overlooked one detail.

That is, the black water curtain doors, beyond their blackness, inherently possessed the water curtain’s own visual obstruction effect.

Now, though the sky outside had brightened considerably and the black on the curtain had faded, as if black water had turned into normal flowing water,

the water itself carried white, frothy foam like a misty, snowy mirror, making it difficult for outsiders to see clearly inside.

Without guessing, the imprisoned inmates must see the same.

Even if they pressed close and strained their eyes, both sides could only perceive a vague, blurred, circular shadow.

Ouyang Rong pressed his lips together.

He looked around at the water curtain doors, each containing a dark silhouette, like ink accidentally smudged on a white sheet of paper.

Yet Ouyang Rong was unsure whether, at noon when the sky was brightest, the light would be strong enough to pierce the fogged water curtain and allow outsiders to see clearly inside.

The only slightly better news was that he could now definitively confirm that all eight water prisons contained living beings.

Thinking of this, Ouyang Rong turned his head toward the corridor’s depths.

Even as the water curtain had brightened overall, the corridor’s end remained dim, revealing only a faint outline of a cell door at the far end.

Primarily because the corridor was indeed long; even with daylight now brightening the prison, visibility remained limited.

Ouyang Rong studied it carefully, uncertain whether it was a “Jia”-shaped or “Yi”-shaped cell.

Either way, those two cells were certainly at the corridor’s end.

Whether they contained prisoners, Ouyang Rong dared not yet conclude.

He was about to step forward when he remembered something and glanced down at the bronze token at his waist.

Intuition told him the token was suspicious; moreover, Yun Xiangyi and Chen Jiaxin’s warnings echoed in his ear.

Ouyang Rong pressed his lips shut and dared not gamble.

At least for now, he had gained something—he was close to unraveling this prison, and Old Daoist Sun was very likely confined in one of these eight outer cells, not the two innermost ones.

So there was no need to risk entering.

As for why he was certain Old Daoist Sun was not in the two innermost cells, it was simple: just look at Chen Jiaxin’s attitude.

Miss Chen must have acquired some sensitive information and likely knows the situation of Old Daoist Sun; by helping him enter the water dungeon to find someone, she aims to obtain the exact cell number.

Overall, without knowing what backup measures Tong Ling and Yun Xiangyi left behind in the water dungeon, it’s unwise to rashly enter its forbidden depths.

After all, the White Robe Lady Lord could return at any moment; if she encounters Ouyang Rong now, he can still fabricate an excuse—that he was exhausted and dreaming, hence late in delivering the meal.

But if Yun Xiangyi or anyone else from Jianze catches Ouyang Rong near the Jia- or Yi-sized water cells, it’ll be mud in his pants—he’ll never wash it clean.

Ouyang Rong doesn’t yet wish to compromise his current identity or clash with the Lady Lord’s palace; moreover, he’s on their territory—he’s the intruder.

As the dull youth’s thoughts churned, movement came from the Ji-sized cell.

He turned to see a food box being pushed out from behind the water curtain.

At that moment, as if recognizing something, his pupils contracted slightly.

Again, the most impatient occupant of the Ji-sized cell pushed out the food box first—but that wasn’t the key point; the key was that the prisoner inside the Ji cell had moved close to the water curtain, and from outside, the dark shadow grew nearer, gradually becoming clearer!

Especially when the occupant of the Ji-sized cell reached out to push the food box, his palm pressed against it and advanced toward the water curtain along with the box!

Ouyang Rong’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He saw clearly.

It was a short, thick, rough palm—like that of a peasant.

Ouyang Rong suddenly realized and immediately turned to look at the other cells.

When prisoners in these cells pushed out their food boxes, they too would approach the water curtain—especially their pushing hands!

At this moment, the advantage of his earlier careful observation and experience-gathering became subtly apparent.

According to Ouyang Rong’s memory, the second prisoner to push out the food box was usually the occupant of the Xin-sized cell, directly opposite the Ji-sized cell.

He looked—and indeed, the Xin-sized cell’s occupant pushed out the food box, precisely second.

Ouyang Rong clearly saw this hand.

It belonged to a woman—slender, soft, boneless, yet painted with deep purple-red nail polish, strangely alluring.

The woman’s slender hand near the water curtain vanished in an instant.

Ouyang Rong had no time to dwell or process; he immediately recalled his observations, turned to the next cell, mimicking his earlier method, shifting his gaze one by one, scanning the entire row:

The Ren-sized cell’s occupant had a pale, slender hand—skin still young, yet utterly bloodless, like a corpse’s hand; merely gazing at that pallor made one feel a chill radiating from it.

The Gui-sized cell’s occupant had a wrinkled, black, rough hand—the middle segment of the index finger was charred yellow, nails dull gray, clearly weathered by time.

The Geng-sized cell’s occupant extended a massive, calloused hand—a rare large hand, with a prominent scar on the back, shaped like a beast’s bite.

The Wu-sized cell’s occupant extended a plump palm, flesh on both back and palm, yet the skin’s condition suggested an elderly person.

Next was the Ding-sized cell’s occupant—he had a “small” hand, emaciated like dry twigs, resembling a black chicken’s claw, with faint lumps barely visible on the back; his age was likely advanced.

Finally, the Bing-sized cell’s occupant.

He was the slowest, slowly extending an ordinary yellow-skinned hand from behind the water curtain—proportionate in length, indistinguishable from an ordinary person’s; aside from his sluggishness, Ouyang Rong could detect nothing unusual—nowhere near as distinctive as the previous seven.

Ouyang Rong also looked last at the Bing-sized water cell.

Because he had anticipated it would be last—no need to rush.

His guess proved correct: now, he stared at the ordinary hand of the Bing-sized cell’s occupant before the water curtain, waited a long while, before finally seeing him push out the food box and withdraw his hand.

Yet Ouyang Rong observed it with great care—even more carefully than the previous seven prisoners’ hands.

The Bing-sized cell prisoner’s sluggishness offering a chance to observe was secondary; the main point was, Ouyang Rong desperately wanted to determine whether this man was deliberately setting a trap to lure his attention…