Chapter 365: Kill One, Kill Two

"All this talk boils down to money."

Xie Changling's gaze was contemptuous; in the end, he was just a vulgar man.

"Without money, you can't move an inch, my dear Mr. Xie. You pride yourself on being above it all, but everything you eat and use was bought with money. You just don't have to earn it yourself—you only need to maintain your status, and those around you will gladly earn vast sums for you. But that's not why you cling to your lofty posture. It's simply that you scholars are masters of self-deception, hypocrites through and through."

"Nonsense! Utter rubbish!" Xie Changling snapped sharply. "All heresy and falsehood. No wonder everyone says the jailers of Tianlaomiao are greedy as sin—one slash, one dead, not a single one innocent."

"Hey, I could say the same about you, Mr. Xie. In the officialdom, one slash, one dead—no one's wrongly accused."

"Insolent!" Xie Changling's face hardened.

"Forget it, I'm too lazy to argue with you. Will you pay or not? Pay, and I'll arrange your outdoor time. Don't pay, and you get nothing. Tianlaomiao never had such a rule before—sunbathing was a luxury. Only I consider the needs of officials like you, sincerely thinking of your welfare. Sure, the price is high, but it's worth it! Convincing the higher-ups to approve this plan takes both effort and silver. Officials all prefer to avoid trouble rather than take on extra work. Without enough benefit, no seal will ever go on the paperwork. Paperwork without a seal is worth less than toilet paper."

"Thank heaven you never entered officialdom. If someone like you, spouting such heresies, got into the bureaucracy, I fear everyone else would be corrupted by you."

Chen Guanlou snorted at this. "You make it sound as if every official in the bureaucracy is a pure white lotus—spotless, innocent, naive."

He chuckled again. "Mr. Xie, don't get jealous just because others get outdoor time—it's beneath you. You're a man of lofty grace; don't show your ugly face and earn everyone's contempt."

Xie Changling nearly lost his composure, glaring fiercely at Chen Guanlou before letting out a cold snort and turning away.

Chen Guanlou laughed heartily. "If you change your mind, Mr. Xie, just tell one of the jailers—I'll make sure everything's taken care of."

He turned and left.

Ah!

Can't keep my mouth shut—every now and then snapping back at these prisoners might accidentally make enemies. No wonder I got targeted by assassins.

I wonder how the mastermind feels now, seeing I'm still alive and well?

Whoever hired a fourth-rank martialist to kill me must be someone important. Fourth-rank martialists aren't common as weeds—no gang has such resources. Either a family-trained asset, a sect-trained one, or a professional organization.

I want to see if the mastermind, seeing I'm still alive, will send another assassin. If fourth-rank won't do, send a fifth-rank.

If the mastermind can truly send a fifth-rank martialist, his identity narrows down drastically. Among all these imprisoned officials in the Jia-level cells, how many have the power to hire a fifth-rank assassin? A circle around them would be easy to draw.

Back in the office, he drank half a bowl of tea when the gatekeeper brought word: someone was asking for him.

"Who is it?"

"Says he's from the gambling den."

"Quick, show him in."

Old Zhao Feng had news.

Chen Guanlou couldn't hide his excitement—Old Zhao Feng was still reliable.

Moments later, the man was ushered into the office.

A middle-aged man, utterly ordinary-looking—the kind you'd forget the moment you saw him, lost in a crowd, perfect for gathering information.

The man introduced himself as Lin, working under Old Zhao Feng.

Chen Guanlou asked, "Got any news?"

"Old Zhao Feng told me to inform you, Mr. Chen, that your previous commission is canceled. Here's your fee—fully refunded."

Lin placed an envelope on the desk—inside were banknotes.

"What's going on? You can't even solve my little matter? That's Old Zhao Feng—the famed information broker of Jingcheng, who knows everything in the capital. A simple commission like this, and you return the fee?"

Lin's expression remained calm. "Mr. Chen, please don't be angry. I'm just following orders. From what I know, your lead has gone cold—no further investigation is possible. Since nothing useful was found, the commission must be counted as failed, and the fee returned. I hope you understand."

"Why did the lead go cold? How is it impossible to investigate?" Chen Guanlou pressed.

"All traces have been erased. Without leads, there's nothing to investigate."

Chen Guanlou snorted. "So you gave up."

"Old Zhao Feng said, if you still trust him, next time you come, he won't charge you."

Chen Guanlou thought for a moment, then tucked the envelope away. "Fine. Go tell Old Zhao Feng I got it. Next time I need something, I'll come back to him."

"Thank you! Goodbye!" Lin turned and swiftly left Tianlaomiao, vanishing into the crowd within moments.

Chen Guanlou realized: if they can't find anything, then fine. Let them come—one kills one, two kills two. If they're not afraid of death, let them keep sending assassins. If they've got the guts, send a ninth-rank martialist. Below ninth-rank, he could handle them easily—slaughter them like pigs and sheep. Especially now that he was about to break through the fourth chapter of Sheng Tian Lu and enter the fifth.

He'd never properly fought a ninth-rank martialist, but he was eager to test his strength against one. He'd been searching for a worthy opponent—if the mastermind kept sending martialists to train his blade, he'd welcome them gladly.

As for who the mastermind was—it no longer mattered.

He was going to keep provoking people. On his turf, to ask him to hold back, to avoid making enemies—impossible. As his power grew, he'd live ever more freely, as he pleased.

The weather was hot, and his home had no ice to cool it. So Chen Guanlou stayed overnight at Tianlaomiao—just as if on duty. He used official resources to get ice for cooling, eating chilled fruit juice and the most basic ice sticks.

Aside from the bed being a bit hard, everything else was fine. Three meals a day were taken in the mess hall—he didn't have to cook, sparing him the sweat and toil.

The kitchen chef was mediocre at big pots, but his small-pot dishes were exquisite—better than any restaurant chef. For a small fee, the chef was happy to cook special meals.

But nine out of ten Tianlaomiao jailers were gamblers. Gamblers' nature: they'd rather spend money at the gambling table than on food. Why pay for a special meal when free big-pot food was available?

Thus, very few in Tianlaomiao were willing to pay for special meals.

Chen Guanlou had plenty of money and didn't gamble—he did whatever made him comfortable. The chef was happy to earn extra. They reached an easy agreement.

In the middle of the night, noise came from the direction of Tianlaomiao's main gate.

Chen Guanlou instantly opened his eyes, threw on his robe, and stepped out of the office.

Six-Door men had arrived.

Chen Guanlou narrowed his eyes slightly. "Gentlemen, what brings you here at this hour?"