Chapter 292: Identity Completely Erased

With nothing else to do, Chen Guanlou stepped into the deepest recesses of the Jia-class prison for the first time in many years. Here was imprisoned a convict who had been locked away for over thirty years.

There were no records, no registry—allegedly lost.

Only the oldest laborer ventured daily into the pitch-black, lightless depths to sweep and deliver meals.

The torch in his hand crackled and burned.

Chen Guanlou peered into the darkness along the flickering light.

The sudden blaze startled the prisoner inside, who shielded his eyes with his arm.

Black!

White!

These were Chen Guanlou's first impressions of the man.

Black—his entire body was ink-dark; the prison garb had long lost its original color.

White—his hair and beard were entirely white; the exposed skin was ashen, untouched by sunlight for years.

"I'm the newly appointed jailer. May I ask your lordship's name?"

"Lordship?" The man's pronunciation was normal—perhaps the laborers spoke to him regularly, or perhaps he talked to himself. Either way, his language skills remained intact.

"You call me lordship?"

"Shouldn't you?" Chen Guanlou countered.

"Absolutely not. I'm a convict; you're a jailer. How could you possibly address a convict as lordship?"

Chen Guanlou frowned slightly. "May I ask your full name? How should I address you?"

"What year is it?" The man remained slumped in the corner, refusing to step forward. He seemed afraid of light—or perhaps of change.

"Don't you know? This is the forty-ninth year of Taixing."

"Forty-nine years already? Then he's nearly been emperor for fifty years."

"Yes, quite a long time."

"Heh heh…"

"Who are you? Why were you imprisoned in the Heavenly Prison, and why for over thirty years?"

"Who am I? Ha! Who am I! Hahaha…" The man burst into loud laughter.

Chen Guanlou watched him coldly.

"The world has surely forgotten me. You young ones have never heard of old man me. Hahaha! Who am I? Who truly am I?"

"Have you forgotten your own identity?"

"No, no, no—I remember perfectly."

"Then why won't you say it?"

The man fell suddenly silent.

Chen Guanlou grew impatient. "Though you still live, to the world you are already dead. All men undergo two deaths: the death of the body, and the death of being forgotten. Your body still breathes—but you are already dead. Tell me your identity, and you may yet come back to life."

As he spoke, the man's breathing grew heavy; his inner torment was palpable.

"Do you truly wish to know who I am?"

"Yes! As jailer, I must know the status of every convict in the Jia-class prison—you included. If possible, I can even arrange your transfer to a better cell outside, where you'll see sunlight every day."

"Sunlight?!" the man murmured. "Who am I? I am the Prince Consort of Princess LuYang of this dynasty, Commander of the Five City Military Commands, First-Rank General Wang Qiren."

Chen Guanlou: …

His heart stirred not at all.

Because the name was utterly alien—there had never been a Princess LuYang in court; he'd never even heard the title.

He frowned, thinking. "I don't recall any Princess LuYang. Are you making this up?"

"Hahaha… As expected. He could do this. He erased our very existence from the world. As you said—forgotten by all, even if the body lives, the man is dead. Wuhuu…"

"Are you truly the Prince Consort of Princess LuYang?"

"Without a doubt?"

"How could you have fallen so low? Killing is one thing—but this?"

"Is killing hard for him?" Wang Qiren suddenly lunged to the prison bars, trembling with fury. "To him, killing is the simplest thing in the world. A single frown, a single grunt, a single word—and countless lives vanish. How could he ever be so merciful to us? He wants us to suffer, to live like vermin. The more wretched we are, the more he delights. He's a madman. The world calls him wise and mighty—pah! He's a tyrant."

Chen Guanlou cleared his throat. "If by 'him' you mean the old emperor, his reputation has changed. He's no longer called wise and mighty—now the ministers call him a fool."

"I'm not surprised. That's his true nature. Hahaha…"

Wang Qiren seemed sane, yet utterly mad.

Anyone locked in the lightless depths of the Heavenly Prison would go mad. The fact that he still retained sharp thought and unimpaired speech was remarkable.

Chen Guanlou left the deepest part of the prison in silence; the man's mad laughter still echoed in his ears.

The Heavenly Prison's records contained no such person.

To learn what happened thirty years ago, he must ask the Hou Fu. Perhaps Master Du had heard of him.

Before uncovering the full truth, he would not rashly transfer him. He needed to confirm whether anyone in the world still remembered Wang Qiren.

He summoned Qian Fugui. "Are there any prominent clans surnamed Wang in the capital?"

"Wang? Not Wang—wait, I don't think so." Qian Fugui was uncertain.

Chen Guanlou slapped his own head—he'd asked the wrong man. He should've asked Lu Datou, not Qian Fugui.

Lu Datou mingled with all walks of life; he knew every major household in the capital. He could tell you which way their front gates faced.

Lu Datou was a living encyclopedia of the capital—a native, a local, nothing escaped him.

After delivering Lu Mingchuan to the palace, Lu Datou had basked in glory, even befriended several soldiers from the Divine Weapon Camp, chatted with them for half an hour, called them brothers, and planned to gamble together soon. Xiao Jin secretly admired him—Lu Datou's social skills were such that if thrown into a den of scum, he'd thrive like a fish in water.

Afterwards, Chen Guanlou rewarded this group of jailers.

Lu Datou, unusually, had saved some money. He couldn't gamble at the gambling dens—the prison's atmosphere was tense, only small bets were allowed. His coins were temporarily safe.

He figured that the moment the prison gates opened, his first act would be to storm a gambling den and gamble for three days and nights.

Go home?

There was no such thing.

What mattered more than gambling?

Hopeless.

Chen Guanlou called him to the office for tea and casually asked, "Are there any prominent families surnamed Wang in the capital?"

"How prominent?"

"Hmm… about the size of the Hou Fu."

"Nope. None." Lu Datou said firmly.

"What about smaller ones?"

"None either. As far as I know, the wealthiest Wang family has only a dozen or so shops and a couple hundred hectares of land. In the capital, they're just ordinary rich folk." Lu Datou munched on peanuts; without wine, it was slightly lacking.

"You're certain?"

"Hey! In this capital, nothing escapes me. If you don't believe me, go ask the Ministry of Revenue tomorrow—see if I'm wrong. If you ask about private scandals inside a rich household, I won't know. But if you ask where a big family lives or how much property they own—I tell you, I know it all."

"Then tell me—how much property does the Hou Fu have?"

"Can't say exactly. The Hou Fu's assets are scattered under the names of countless aunts and cousins. No ledgers exist—even the masters probably don't know the full extent."