Chapter 33

The thirteenth prisoner was arrested because he got into a conflict with a noble while dining at a restaurant. After being taken into custody, he could not account for the origin of his belongings, so he was imprisoned for theft. Upon entering the Tianlao Prison, he was immediately subjected to severe torture—his skin torn open, limbs broken—yet not a single coin was extracted from him.

His accent initially sounded like that of a Beijing native, but certain words clearly bore the inflection of someone learning Beijing dialect from elsewhere. Thus, he was judged to be from outside the capital. Where exactly he came from remains unknown to this day.

After eating a few bites of mutton, Chen Guanlou voluntarily introduced the situation of the thirteenth prisoner.

These past days, he had not been idle—he had diligently inquired into the thirteenth prisoner’s background.

“That’s all?” the swordsman clearly was dissatisfied.

Chen Guanlou took a sip of wine, didn’t even glance at the man, and continued: “The Six Gates Bureau searched the thirteenth prisoner’s cell from top to bottom, even nearly prying up every brick. All I know is, they apparently found no useful leads. Also, the thirteenth prisoner has an iron will—the jailers say they haven’t seen such a hardened Jianghu thug in many years. Moreover, the thirteenth prisoner has calloused hands, clearly a martial practitioner—but he has no martial meridians. Therefore, he could not have cultivated any unusual martial art.”

Those without martial meridians can only practice crude, common techniques. They cannot master profound martial arts.

“So you mean the thirteenth prisoner purely relied on willpower to endure those endless dark days and still survived, only to be rescued?”

“It sounds incredible, but that’s the truth. Unless—he has a hidden meridian, and the jailers’ eyes are too shallow to detect it.”

At this moment, Chen Guanlou was filled with intense anxiety and unease.

This was the first time he had ever mentioned the term “hidden meridian” in front of others.

To conceal himself, he ate and drank heartily, not daring to look at the swordsman even once.

“Hidden meridian? Someone with a hidden meridian is one in ten thousand.”

“What is a hidden meridian? I’ve heard others discuss it—said the thirteenth prisoner might be one—but no one can explain what a hidden meridian actually is.”

The swordsman, without suspicion, replied directly: “A hidden meridian appears, on the surface, to be an ordinary person. Only a fifth-rank or higher martial practitioner can help unblock it, allowing cultivation of profound martial arts.”

“So you mean a hidden meridian is a blocked martial meridian? Undetectable below fifth rank?”

“You could say that—it’s a blocked martial meridian, deeply concealed. Most martial practitioners cannot distinguish a hidden meridian from an ordinary person.”

Chen Guanlou looked expectant. “Can you tell? Can you see if I have a hidden meridian?”

“You?” The swordsman seemed to hear the funniest joke imaginable. “I may not know how to detect it, but I can assure you—you have no hidden meridian.”

“On what grounds do you conclude I don’t?”

“The last time a hidden meridian appeared in Beijing was ten years ago. That alone shows how rare they are.”

“What happened to that hidden meridian from ten years ago? Did he achieve fame and success?”

“Dead. No.” The swordsman spoke briefly and plainly.

Chen Guanlou was puzzled.

Seeing his curiosity, the swordsman kindly explained: “Hidden meridians are exceedingly rare. Once discovered, the Jixia Academy immediately absorbs them. After that… there is no after.”

Chen Guanlou opened his mouth, unable to believe it.

So a hidden meridian was just like Tang Monk’s flesh.

“If they’re so rare, why kill them?” he asked, confused.

“Hidden meridians have one trait: they can conceal their cultivation level. Even a Grandmaster cannot discern their true depth. Moreover, hidden meridian cultivators advance in martial arts at an astonishing speed, with a high probability of reaching the Grandmaster realm. After hearing this, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

“Chosen one.” Chen Guanlou blurted out. A hidden meridian was unmistakably the chosen one—the classic novel protagonist.

To his surprise, the swordsman snorted in derision and shook his head. “A hidden meridian cultivator isn’t a chosen one—he’s a chosen assassin. As long as such a person lives, countless others will be unable to sleep or eat in peace.”

Chen Guanlou was speechless, wanting to refute but finding no words. He had nothing to say—only a bitter sigh for this damned world.

Indeed.

A martial genius, whose depth cannot be discerned, can perfectly disguise himself as an ordinary person. Tell me—do the powerful fear him? Do Grandmasters fear him? Do martial practitioners fear him?

In a world that reveres martial power, everyone plays their cards openly.

Then suddenly, a man appears who plays his cards in secret—who wouldn’t be terrified?

Kill.

Must be eliminated without delay.

Such a person must not be allowed to live.

Chen Guanlou silently drank a sip of wine, his mind churning—this hidden meridian was such a grave hazard; his earlier plan had already collapsed.

He suppressed his tangled thoughts and pressed on: “How do you determine if someone has a hidden meridian?”

The swordsman shook his head. “I don’t know. I only know the Jixia Academy has a way to test whether someone is a hidden meridian.”

Chen Guanlou raised an eyebrow slightly. “Is it really that mysterious?”

The swordsman chuckled coldly. “What do you think?”

Chen Guanlou: …

He quickly changed the subject, returning to the thirteenth prisoner: “If the thirteenth prisoner is also a rare hidden meridian, is that why he was rescued? Is that why the Six Gates Bureau took such serious notice—even the Embroidered Uniform Guard got involved? Has the upper echelon already confirmed he’s a hidden meridian?”

“I don’t know. You need to confirm that yourself.”

“You’re not connected to…” He stopped mid-sentence, clamping his mouth shut—his life was at stake. He nervously avoided the swordsman’s gaze.

“You were going to say I have connections within the government? Or even suspect I’m one of their hounds?” The swordsman smiled faintly, his eyes brimming with mockery.

Chen Guanlou laughed it off. “I just thought you must have broader connections, know more people than I do. I truly can’t get any information from above. I only heard about hidden meridians by pure luck—overheard a few casual remarks.”

“You overheard one thing and uncovered the key to my long-standing mystery. Why not listen again? Confirm whether the information is true.”

“I really can’t.”

“Chen Guanlou, you seem unaware of your own situation.” The swordsman picked up a piece of mutton, placed it in his mouth, chewed slowly, and watched him with calm, deliberate eyes.

Chen Guanlou took a deep breath—he knew the man wouldn’t let him off so easily.

He grimaced. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m certain you’ll accomplish this. Don’t worry—you’ll be well rewarded afterward. Thank you for the hospitality. I’m off.”

The swordsman leapt over the wall and departed.

Chen Guanlou ate his meal listlessly.

The swordsman’s threat was expected.

What truly chilled him was the perilous fate of hidden meridians—if he pretended to have one, he’d be signing his own death warrant.

Difficult. Difficult. Difficult.

How could this be resolved?

Wait.

Why hadn’t Duan Tianlin ever suspected him of being a hidden meridian? Was it because his martial skill was too low? Or was Duan Tianlin simply ignorant, never even imagining such a thing?