Chapter 24

“You’re twisting the facts!” the bearded prisoner barked.

Chen Guanlou smiled faintly. “The Heavenly Prison is where the law is concrete—how can you judge its ways by the rules of the outside world? Elder, you’re outdated.”

Hearing the word “outdated,” the bearded prisoner flew into a rage, his beard bristling, his wild hair standing on end, his eyes bulging like copper bells—terrifying to behold.

It was clear the bearded prisoner was a hot-tempered man. It was a wonder he had endured so many years in prison, cut off from sunlight, with no one to speak to.

At this point, Chen Guanlou could at least understand why the jailers feared him.

Hot-tempered, powerful in martial skill—even with his limbs shackled in iron chains—he was, to the jailers, a walking bomb, ready to explode at any moment, taking them all with him in a shower of shattered bones.

No one wanted to die. Yet they had to approach this bomb—so they only dared glance from afar, just enough to confirm he was still alive.

Poor the jailers who brought meals, and the laborers who cleaned the chamber pots.

“Why be angry with me, Elder? You’ve crossed more bridges than I’ve eaten salt. Your experience is vast—you should know I’m right. You struggle to accept it only because the Heavenly Prison is utterly dark, devouring all who enter—and you’re the one being devoured. So you’re bitter, you hate us jailers. Whatever we do, you call it bullying with power. Outside, your little finger could crush us. Now the strong and weak have swapped places—it’s tragic, no wonder you harbor resentment.”

“If you know the Heavenly Prison is dark and devouring, why do you willingly serve as a jailer, aiding the wolves? I hear you’ve studied books—how could you sink so low?” the bearded prisoner demanded, furious, bewildered, and sorrowful.

Since becoming a jailer, Chen Guanlou had encountered this reaction many times. Many, upon learning he was a jailer, would wear expressions of regret.

Facing the bearded prisoner, he immediately spread his hands. “Elder, I have to eat!”

“You’ve studied books—you could eat anywhere. No need to become a jailer. This trade damages your moral fortune.”

“But I still want to train in martial arts. Do you know how expensive it is outside? And you can only learn mediocre, common techniques. Someone like me, without martial veins, has no hope of entering a sect, let alone the Jixia Academy, to study profound martial arts. But the Heavenly Prison can fulfill my wish to learn such arts.”

The bearded prisoner never expected Chen Guanlou became a jailer just to learn martial arts. He didn’t know whether to call the boy foolish or clever—he only said, “You’re honest.”

He was certain Chen Guanlou spoke the truth—he truly came for the martial manuals. Over the past few months, it was obvious the boy had made some progress. From an ordinary man who couldn’t even perform fake forms months ago, he now could withstand three strikes from him—remarkable. Too bad he had no martial veins.

“Let Elder know: my greatest trait is honesty.”

“You want me to trade a manual for wine and meat?”

“You don’t have to.” Chen Guanlou felt a twinge of guilt—trading with a fifth-rank martialist gave him little confidence. And this man was hot-tempered.

The bearded prisoner laughed heartily. “Do you know who I am? Why have I been locked in the Heavenly Prison for years with no one caring?”

Chen Guanlou shook his head honestly—he truly didn’t know.

The bearded prisoner continued smiling. “Bring wine and meat next time, and I’ll tell you a story.”

Chen Guanlou hesitated.

The more you know, the more dangerous it becomes.

But he was truly curious—he wanted to know what crime the bearded prisoner had committed, what immortal he had angered, to be locked away in the Heavenly Prison, cut off from the sun.

A fifth-rank martialist—how many men, how deep a scheme, how brilliant a calculation would it take to capture him? Fifth rank! A realm one dared not even imagine.

Even now, with his rank fallen to third, limbs shackled and movement restricted, he had defeated Chen Guanlou with just three strikes. No wonder he was the most mysterious, most intimidating presence in the Bing-class prison—every jailer avoided him, none dared act boldly before him.

Dare to threaten heaven, dare to threaten earth—but never dare threaten the bearded one.

Seeing Chen Guanlou hesitate, the bearded prisoner was clearly displeased. “Boy, do you know how many people outside want to extract words from me?”

“I don’t believe it! If so many wanted to question you, why has no one ever come to interrogate you all these years?”

“Interrogate? Hah…” The bearded prisoner’s demeanor shifted instantly—cold, venomous, like a serpent. “Dare they interrogate me?”

“If they dare not, why keep you alive?” Chen Guanlou asked, curious.

The bearded prisoner sneered. “If I died, wouldn’t that be too easy for them? Keeping me alive, in utter darkness, making me wish for death—that’s what they truly want! Boy, I’ll tell you: back then, my nickname was the Killer Demon.”

Chen Guanlou’s heart jolted in alarm. Instinctively, he tensed, every muscle rigid, as if facing a deadly foe.

He had heard the nickname “Killer Demon” as a child. Legend said this man killed like a demon, slaughtered entire families, even whole villages. The number of lives he took likely numbered in the hundreds. The worst case: a village of hundreds, wiped out in a single night. Truly, he was saturated with evil—thousands of cuts could not soothe the souls of his victims.

He never imagined this man still lived—had not died.

“You’re truly the Killer Demon?”

“Without a doubt!” The bearded prisoner stood tall.

“Why aren’t you dead? Why are you still alive?”

It shouldn’t be.

A Killer Demon with such public outrage still lived? How was that possible? He had heard the real Killer Demon had been publicly executed ten years ago.

“Didn’t you die ten years ago? Executed by a thousand cuts?”

“Ask the government why they substituted one for another, deceived the world with lies. There’s a great secret here. Boy, do you want merit? Do you want promotion?”

“Yes! But you’re mistaken if you think this will tempt me. I’m no fool. Still, I’ll bring you wine and food another day—just to thank you for answering my questions.”

Chen Guanlou knew well: the bearded Killer Demon had no good intentions. Of course—he was so hot-tempered, so full of rage—how could he suddenly become kind? If Chen Guanlou were truly an eighteen-year-old boy fresh into the world, he might have been fooled. But having lived two lives, though curious, he knew survival came first.

The bearded Killer Demon clearly hadn’t expected Chen Guanlou to refuse. His face darkened. “Boy, you think refusing to listen will save you? If I spread the word, you won’t live to master supreme martial arts. Even your secrets—under torture—they’ll be dragged out eventually.”

“You dare threaten me?”

Since awakening his past-life wisdom, Chen Guanlou had never been this furious—he felt a boundless killing intent surge forth.