Chapter 377

Early in the morning, Chen Guanlou led his men to escort the prisoners and cargo out.

With both people and cargo, progress was slow—nowhere near as fast as on the way here. They could manage at most a few dozen or a hundred li a day, and even that was thanks to good weather.

Every day they pressed on, racing to reach the next relay station to rest.

Chen Guanlou was on official business; he carried imperial documents, and staying overnight at a relay station was only natural. Couriers and escort firms had never enjoyed such privilege—relay stations served only government personnel, not private clients. Only high-ranking households like the Hou Fu, with formal letters of introduction, were ever admitted.

Thanks to Chen Guanlou, the couriers and escort firms could now benefit too, staying at the relay station. It wasn't just cheaper—crucially, it was safe. No thief in his right mind would rob a relay station.

The good weather lasted only a few days. On the fifth day, they rested at Niu Jiao Shan Relay Station, when heavy rain began at midnight and showed no sign of stopping by the next day. The roads had turned into thick mud.

An experienced elder said this rain would likely last two more days.

Everyone was trapped at the station.

Niu Jiao Shan Relay Station was remote, and this season wasn't yet peak official traffic. The busiest time came during autumn harvest, when the imperial roads swarmed with officials carrying documents.

Inside the station, besides Chen Guanlou's group, there were a few minor officials and their families.

Chen Guanlou's group was the largest: over a dozen escort men, ten or so couriers, plus jailers and prisoners in the carts—nearly forty men, not a single woman among them.

The officials had brought their female relatives; they'd crossed paths at meals, all strikingly beautiful.

Chen Guanlou specifically warned his men: keep your eyes and hands under control. Don't look where you shouldn't, don't entertain thoughts you shouldn't. Whoever misbehaved would regret it.

The escort men were the most obedient—they traveled to earn money and always avoided trouble, valuing harmony for profit. The couriers were impulsive. On the first day, Chen Guanlou had demonstrated his strength and established authority before them. All the jailers were his own men, none dared disobey him.

Thus, after two days trapped at the station, everyone remained at peace.

After two straight days of rain, on the third day, the downpour finally eased. But the roads, washed to sludge, were impassable without days of baking sun. People could walk, but carts would sink into the mire.

Not in a hurry to move, Chen Guanlou decided to wait until the roads dried after the rain.

On rainy days, night fell early. Everyone ate supper early and returned to their rooms to rest.

He couldn't sleep. Whenever he had a moment free, he pondered people.

He hadn't met anyone in Suizhou. He'd thought someone would contact him en route—but no one had. Could the chief steward have lied to him?

But if this were merely escorting a few worthless, ragtag "generals" snatched from some back alley, why force him to use the Tianlaomiao banner for such a long journey?

Everything reeked of strangeness.

He'd secretly pried open two cargo crates. One held ordinary goods, valuable enough to fetch high prices. The other, as expected, contained forbidden weapons: knives, spears, bows, and crossbows.

Everything else was manageable, but crossbows were imperial contraband. If discovered, the penalty was rebellion—and the entire family executed.

The Hou Fu was so brazen, so openly transporting crossbows, they truly didn't fear death. Their nerve was astonishing. Didn't they fear being caught at checkpoints, branded as rebels, and sent en masse to the execution ground?

Was it arrogance? Or more arrogance?

The key point: with so much cargo, including so many contraband items, the Hou Fu sent no one to accompany him—only him, the jailer. Did they truly believe his Tianlaomiao status was invincible?

Ask anyone—these days, which office respects the Tianlaomiao? Say it aloud and you'll make people laugh.

Ahead lay a checkpoint. He hadn't flown the Hou Fu banner; the chief steward had told him to avoid using it if possible. When the toll officers at the checkpoint gave him trouble, his Tianlaomiao status would be worth exactly nothing.

He simply couldn't fathom the chief steward's calculations.

As he drifted in thought, noise stirred outside.

Sleeping smoke!

Ah, after waiting so many days, hoping so many days—finally, movement.

He feigned unconsciousness. One courtyard after another, one room after another, all were opened and searched. No one took money, no swords, no valuables, no documents—only people.

"Not him. Not him… none of them."

"Did the intel mislead us?"

"All other routes failed. We were told the man is likely hidden in this group."

"We checked everyone. Still no trace. Is the intel reliable?"

"We've watched this route since Suizhou. No anomalies. But our superiors insist the man is here. What now?"

"Grab one man, interrogate him thoroughly—he'll break."

"Who?"

"The jailer. He's the leader. Heard he's from the Chen family—he must know something."

"Fine!"

Chen Guanlou was dragged away. A pungent odor jolted him "awake."

He blinked dazedly. Around him: the main hall of the relay station. Dozens of people—all unconscious, even the station attendants. He guessed the animals in the sheds were drugged too.

Dim light. He squinted ahead.

Only three figures visible—but five qi signatures. One qi was like a bottomless abyss: silent, endless. A rare expert—at least eighth rank.

Eighth rank!

Who could possibly draw an eighth-rank expert?

The Hou Fu's secret cargo—tonight, the truth might be revealed.

"Where is he? Hand him over."

"Who are you? Do you know this is a relay station? Everyone here is government personnel, on official duty."

"Enough talk. Hand him over."

"Gentlemen, I advise you to stop now. I don't know who you're seeking. I'm a Tianlaomiao jailer, escorting prisoners. As long as the prisoners are safe and my men unharmed, I'll pretend tonight never happened. Otherwise, your reckless actions will draw the Embroidered Uniform Guard—and you'll regret it."

"Still mouthy, even at death's door. Hand him over."

"Who?" Chen Guanlou demanded sharply. "I don't know who you mean. You've seen the prisoners I'm escorting—is any of them who you seek?"

He was bound to a chair, immobile. The three hidden figures were led by a man with a full beard—the one interrogating him. The other two had not spoken a word.

The two hidden qi signatures: one guarded outside, one drank wine in the courtyard.

"Hand over Ning Zecheng."

"Who is Ning Zecheng?" Chen Guanlou looked utterly confused—he'd never heard the name before.

"Don't play dumb! You're Chen family—how could you not know Ning Zecheng?"

Chen Guanlou's face was blank with bewilderment. "I am Chen family, yes—but I'm not of the Hou Fu. Why should I know this Ning man? Who is he? What's his status? What does he do? Tell me."