Chapter 15: How Dare You Covet It

The flower-plucking thief had his head cut off, and Cell 60 was empty again.

Due to the struggle over the prison warden’s position, the entire Tianlao prison had become increasingly fierce in its infighting, and the jailers were forced to pick sides.

Trying to remain neutral and play both sides meant only death. Matters of career and life were at stake—neutral parties were usually the first to die.

No one could tolerate a neutralist lingering around them.

But before they could deal with the neutralists, trouble erupted first in the Yi-character prison block.

A servant of a noble family had died.

Servants taking the blame for their masters were merely performative—just a formality. Once the matter settled, the servant would be released.

No one expected the man to die before the case was even resolved.

This had stirred up a hornet’s nest—it couldn’t be covered up!

The incident reached the attention of the overseeing official, who finally deigned to look downward, learned that the Tianlao prison had been in chaos due to the warden’s struggle, and now a death had occurred—he flew into a rage.

“The position of prison warden is not something for lowly jailers like you to covet.”

One sentence sealed off everyone’s path to advancement.

“Since you refuse to know your place, don’t blame me for being merciless!”

With those words, someone had to die. Only the blood of the dead could satisfy the noble family behind the servant, and make every jailer, guard, and laborer in the Tianlao prison understand their place.

Even though the Tianlao prison was filthy, it was still government land—no band of lowly guards could rise up against it.

Zhao Jailor, who managed the Yi-character prison block, had long been on leave for illness; daily affairs were handled by several shift leaders.

The overseeing official made an example of them: the shift leaders and jailers on duty the day the servant died were arrested, imprisoned, or executed—all without exception.

After this purge, the entire Tianlao prison fell silent; no one dared cry injustice for the wrongfully killed jailers, at most offering a few extra taels of funeral money as a token gesture.

Zhao Jailor, though not held accountable for mismanagement, lost his authority over the Yi-character prison block and was demoted to guard the storage depot. Zhang Jailor replaced him.

For a time, the entire Tianlao prison became eerily quiet, everyone strictly obeying the rules.

Zhang Wantong’s path to advancement was also cut off; he grew visibly despondent, sleeping all day and refusing to step foot inside the prison. No one dared speak out—he was a senior with many disciples and protégés; even Xu Fugui could only find petty faults, unable to dismiss him.

Previously, when Zhang Wantong sought advancement and Xu Fugui harassed him, he had been deeply troubled. Now, he had fully given up. When Xu Fugui harassed him, he no longer cared. He wasn’t afraid of being reported—he just slacked off, so what?

Reporting such a trivial matter as a jailer slacking off would only make the superior think Xu Fugui was stirring up trouble for no reason—inept and clueless. Clueless people ought to be kicked out entirely.

Xu Fugui was a man with sense, so when he saw Zhang Wantong had fully given up, he stopped caring. After all, there were so many underlings—someone capable would eventually step forward.

Several days later, the prison warden’s position was finally settled—the higher-ups appointed someone directly from outside.

The new prison warden was surnamed Fan; he was said to be a Rank-One martial cultivator who had once taken the imperial examinations but failed. He served as a private secretary for several years, saved money and built connections, leveraged his old employer’s ties, and was appointed prison warden, officially entering the bureaucratic ranks. Fan Warden’s personal journey was a true rags-to-riches story.

His life was inspiring—but for Xu Fugui and the others, it felt like blood dripping from their hearts.

They couldn’t bear it!

After work, Xu Fugui dragged Chen Guanlou, Lu Datou, and a few other honest men to drink. After too much liquor, he began complaining: “We’ve spent our whole lives as jailers—wanting advancement is wrong? Why shut the door on us? They look down on us as lowly, yet can’t do without us—who’s really lowly? That Fan guy? He just read a few books, has no official title either—why can he become prison warden? I have money too—why won’t you give jailers like us a chance to advance?!”

“Uncle Xu, you’ve had too much. Drink some tea to sober up.” Chen Guanlou quietly swapped his cup for tea.

“I’m not drunk. Xiao Lou, you’ve studied—try to find connections in the Hou Fu. See if you can get transferred to another yamen. This place isn’t right for you—you’re wasting your potential here.”

“Uncle Xu, you’re joking—I’m fine right now.”

“Fine now doesn’t mean fine forever. The prison is a lowly trade. Don’t let a few taels blind your eyes and ruin your future. We’re stuck—we can’t find another way out, so we cling to this half-cooked meal and pretend it’s delicious. You’re different—you’re surnamed Chen, same ancestor as the Marquis of Pingjiang. You have other paths. Don’t stubbornly cling to this half-cooked meal. I’m telling you this from the bottom of my heart. If you weren’t so honest, I wouldn’t say a word.”

Xu Fugui was truly drunk.

When sober, he’d never say these things—not even under threat of death.

Only because they were drinking together, emotions running high, did he dare speak these heartfelt words.

But Chen Guanlou had his own ambitions. In his mind, no other yamen could compare to the Tianlao prison—quiet, time to cultivate martial arts, collect martial sect techniques, and earn plenty of silver—all without working under the watchful eyes of superiors. Perfect.

Chen Guanlou raised his cup. “Thank you, Uncle Xu, for truly thinking of me. I toast you. I’ll drink mine—you can drink as you please.”

He downed the cup in one gulp; everyone cheered.

He appreciated Xu Fugui’s goodwill, but he had his own long-term plans.

Xu Fugui hugged him. “Listen to me—find more connections. What’s the point of being a jailer your whole life? Don’t be afraid to spend money. Fight for advancement while you’re young.”

Xu Fugui turned into a life coach, delivering his grand lecture on life. No matter how much they disliked it, everyone had to pretend to listen humbly. If tomorrow Xu Fugui woke up and remembered who had been disrespectful or dismissive, he’d harbor a grudge—and that would be trouble. They weren’t old-timers like Zhang Wantong; they had no right to slack off.

After the drinking session, they were more exhausted than after a full day’s duty. They’d spent the whole time listening to Xu Fugui’s lectures and complaints—and couldn’t dare contradict him. If anyone dared object, he’d throw a drunken tantrum.

In the end, Chen Guanlou and Lu Datou carried Xu Fugui home, left without even drinking a cup of hot water.

Walking under the moonlight, Lu Datou sighed and muttered quietly, “That Fan guy doesn’t know jack, yet he got parachuted in as prison warden—I think it’s unfair. Jailers just read less; when it comes to understanding and controlling the Tianlao, ten Fan guys couldn’t match one of us.”

Chen Guanlou said only one thing: “Fan Warden is a Rank-One martial cultivator.”

Lu Datou still resented it. “So what if he’s Rank-One? The Tianlao isn’t the Six Gates’ constables, nor the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s spies—it doesn’t need such high martial power. Like me—I only know a few flashy, fake moves, yet I still do my jailer job well. You, though—stop obsessing over martial manuals. They’re useless. We’re ordinary people without martial meridians. Better to think about how to make more silver.”