Chapter 215: The Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell: Faking Death to Escape

Chen Guanlou brought wine and dishes to Old Zhang's house; today he intended to have a proper chat with him.

Old Zhang lived alone; his son and daughter-in-law resided elsewhere.

This was an extremely rare situation.

Usually, three generations lived under one roof, sometimes even four. As long as the elders were alive, the younger ones could not split off to live separately. The whole family crammed together—yes, it was lively, but also a true nuisance, and conflicts were inevitable. Yet no one had ever thought about it, or if they had, they dared not voice it: a young couple moving out to live alone would be scorned, branded as unfilial.

Of course, it was more likely the family's financial means were too limited to afford rent.

Chen Guanlou was curious why Old Zhang lived alone, but he wisely refrained from asking.

To his surprise, Old Zhang volunteered an explanation: "In my line of work, the blood-qi is heavy, inauspicious—it easily disturbs those around you, especially children. Children who come near me have nightmares at night."

Chen Guanlou opened his mouth, unsure where to begin.

Similar beliefs were common in later times too. For instance, people who worked in morgues or crematoriums were avoided; no one wanted to shake their hands. Whether due to psychological bias or genuine superstition, everyone instinctively shunned such people and tried to avoid contact whenever possible.

"Living alone isn't bad—it's quiet," Chen Guanlou finally found his voice. "I live alone too. One man fed, the whole family doesn't go hungry."

Old Zhang laughed heartily. "You're different from me. Once you marry, that's when you truly have a home. A wife, children—that's what makes a home."

"Marriage? I'm not in any hurry," Chen Guanlou said lightly.

"I'm an old man, so I'll give you two pieces of advice—don't take offense. Lingering in brothels every day isn't sustainable. You should settle down, marry, have children—that's the real business of life."

"Yes, yes, you're right, Old Man. When I meet the right person, I'll marry."

Old Zhang watched him and gave up trying to persuade him. He couldn't understand: Chen Guanlou had money, looked good, was young, trained daily, and was in excellent health—why didn't he want to marry? Even if he feared losing freedom after marriage, he could take concubines or marry a gentle, submissive woman.

He couldn't figure it out.

Chen Guanlou quickly changed the subject, arranging the snacks on plates and setting two flasks of yellow wine on the table. "Tonight, let's two old fellows enjoy a proper meal."

"Hit the jackpot?" Old Zhang teased.

Chen Guanlou chuckled. "Small fortune, nothing much. Actually, I came today because I have a question I'd like to ask you."

"Go ahead, I'm listening," Old Zhang said, sipping wine and eating, his heart warmed.

Chen Guanlou put down his chopsticks, choosing his words carefully. After a long pause, he asked: "Is there any drug—or other method—that can make a person appear dead, even beyond the detection of the most skilled physician?"

Old Zhang looked surprised. "Why are you asking this?"

"Just pure curiosity."

"Are you suspecting someone?"

"Don't go saying things like that. Who would I suspect? I suspect no one. I just read novels where this happens, so I came to ask you."

Old Zhang studied Chen Guanlou closely, then abandoned probing further. If the man didn't want to say, fine. He treated it as idle chatter: "Yes, there are ways to fake death."

"Even the coroners can't tell?" Chen Guanlou leaned forward eagerly.

Old Zhang thought a moment. "I don't know if drugs can do it—I've never encountered such cases. I've heard rumors, but they're unreliable. But I can confirm: there are rare cultivation techniques that, when mastered to a high level, can induce a state of false death, fooling everyone."

"Must you cultivate a technique? Can't drugs alone do it?"

"In all these years, I've never seen anyone fake death with drugs and get away with it. Where did you hear this? Don't believe street gossip—it's all nonsense."

Chen Guanlou nodded twice, but internally wondered: could it be that Old Zhang's circle was too limited? Some secret methods known only to the elite might be beyond his knowledge.

He firmly believed that whether it was the mysterious, vast Jixia Academy or the mysterious, powerful imperial clan, both held secrets unknown to the world—methods so astonishing, so incomprehensible to common folk. The core truths of this world were never in books or folk tales, but in the hands of a few.

Truth, like reality, always rests in the hands of the few.

Of course, he had gained something: at least he now knew that a few cultivation manuals existed capable of faking death and escaping.

Several days later, a nameless corpse was found outside the city; it was said to be Liu's household steward.

Chen Guanlou immediately used his connections to visit the morgue and examine the body.

The corpse was severely decomposed—its original appearance was unrecognizable. Unless this era had DNA technology.

He asked the coroner beside him: "On what basis do you identify this corpse as Liu's household steward?"

The coroner told him: when the body was found, a jade signet ring lay beside it. Those familiar with Liu's steward confirmed he had indeed worn such a ring—a gift from Liu Daowen, never removed from his person. With the ring as proof, the corpse's identity was clear.

"Just a signet ring?"

"Of course!"

Chen Guanlou sighed inwardly. Under these conditions, he couldn't ask for more.

Thus, Liu's household steward was declared dead, and a manhunt warrant was issued.

If he had faked his death, he could now vanish, change his identity, fly as high as a bird, swim as free as a fish.

Stepping out of the yamen, Chen Guanlou drew a deep breath of fresh air, washing away the stench of death clinging to him. Even standing near him, he reeked. No wonder coroners were considered lower than jailers—jailers at least dealt with the living.

At this moment, he grew even more certain Liu Daowen was likely still alive.

Don't ask why.

Just say it was instinct.

He trusted his instinct completely.

Liu Daowen used the Golden Cicada Shedding Its Shell technique—his steward faked death and escaped. These master and servant—hah… truly, never underestimate anyone in this world!

Liu Daowen had no martial vein, yet he manipulated the court's ministers as if they were pawns. Who says this world rewards only brute force? How narrow-minded!

The infamous corrupt official clearly had his own unique talents.

It was another confirmation of the old saying: anyone who rises to prominence in their field must never be underestimated.

That night, Chen Guanlou donned a disguise, transformed into a wealthy young master, and visited a brothel to indulge.

Amid the clamor, he thought he glimpsed a familiar figure. When he chased after it, the shadow vanished without a trace.

He puzzled over it endlessly, finally attributing it to too much wine and blurred vision.

Yet beneath his feet, a secret tunnel held dozens of people covertly moving.