Chapter 379: We're All Dogs—Don't Be Picky

The air seemed to freeze in an instant, a palm print descending from the sky like mountains and seas, carrying overwhelming murderous intent.

Swish!

The frozen air was suddenly sliced open by a light motion, letting in fresh air. The cultured scoundrel felt himself come back to life.

But before he could escape, a sudden pain pierced his heart, and a few drops of blood rolled out from his chest.

He could hardly believe it, turned his head—and saw a scene he would never forget for the rest of his life.

A palm print rose from below, cutting through the storm and rain like a sharp sword piercing the torrent of murderous intent. The two palm prints collided, shaking the entire building, ripping the roof clean off. Candles fell, igniting the structure. Amid flickering flames, the two palm prints shot apart, and a figure surged upward, flying out through the roof.

The cultured scoundrel lay slumped in the corner, relieved to have survived.

Today, the boat was definitely capsizing. He never imagined it would capsize in the hands of an obscure jailer.

If you possess such immense strength, why become a jailer? The world is vast—where could you not go? Why on earth would you choose to be a jailer?

He staggered to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Then more blood gushed from his mouth—he had celebrated his survival too soon. He had overthought it; someone that strong would never miss a kill.

Clutching his chest, he took half a step forward, then finally collapsed, unwilling. In his final moments, only the roaring flames surged toward him.

In midair, two figures—one ahead, one chasing from behind.

"You're really a jailer?" The figure ahead suddenly stopped, landing on the treetop.

"You're all from Wanfeng Mountain?" The figure behind was Chen Guanlou. He too halted, standing casually atop a treetop, studying the other.

So this is the peak of eighth-rank power.

Without realizing it, he had grown this strong.

"Young friend seems quite fond of Wanfeng Mountain." The man ahead, shrouded in night, had a blurred face.

Even Chen Guanlou, squinting hard, could only make out faint, indistinct shapes—as if some technique concealed his form.

"I only wish for you to introduce me to Boss Qi?"

"Why do you want to meet someone surnamed Qi?"

"He owes me money. I need to settle accounts."

"You're truly a jailer?" The other kept fixating on his identity.

"Absolutely true, no deception," Chen Guanlou declared firmly.

The other seemed stunned, unable to accept it. "You were born a gem—why become a criminal?"

"What's wrong with being a jailer? Good pay, little work, close to home. Do you really want to spend your days sleeping in the open, starving, chasing three taels of silver while being treated like dogs? You don't look much stronger than me—and your income might even be less. At least I don't have to be anyone's dog."

"You've got a sharp tongue, young friend."

"Did I say anything wrong? Life boils down to eating and drinking. You've trailed us for days just to complete your mission and collect your pay. I don't need to travel, don't need to watch day and night, don't need to sleep in the wild—and I earn several times what you do. You despise the jailer's low status? I despise you more—you're worse than beasts of burden."

"That does make some sense."

"Exactly! You're all blinded by society's prejudice, thinking jailers are lowly, ignoring the real benefits."

Meeting someone who agrees with you—what's wrong with talking a bit more?

Chen Guanlou wanted to talk things out. He always believed: if you can talk, don't fight. Only fight when talking fails.

"You've been following us—just to find one person? Tell me, who are Ning Zecheng and Er Dan? Why are you looking for them? What's the connection to Hou Fu?"

"You don't know?" The other seemed surprised.

"I already told your men I knew nothing. They didn't believe me—they tried to kill me. If you can't talk, fine—but why draw blades? If they hadn't struck first, I wouldn't have killed anyone. I'm a government employee—I follow rules. If you'd come to me respectfully from the start, shared information, we wouldn't be here with dead bodies. Don't you agree?"

Hah!

"Your tongue is wasted as a jailer. You should be a litigator—or a bureaucrat. I bet you're excellent at kissing ass."

"How do you know?" Chen Guanlou looked genuinely astonished. "Senior, you're no less skilled. I'm young, inexperienced—I need to learn from you. May I ask, what's your relationship with Boss Qi? Are you fellow disciples? Or..."

"I have no connection to the man surnamed Qi. I'm not from Wanfeng Mountain."

To his surprise, the other answered Chen Guanlou's question directly.

Chen Guanlou looked slightly puzzled. "If you're not from Wanfeng Mountain, why are you involved with those three?"

"I'm only here to supervise. Once I find the person, I take them away. Those three were hired by the employer—they have nothing to do with me."

"Senior, do you think I believe you?"

"Whether you believe me is none of my concern. You willingly serve the court, sink to the level of a jailer. I'm nothing like you."

Chen Guanlou wouldn't stand for being silenced—he fired back. "You think I'm a dog? You're one too. At least I serve the court with a legitimate title. What do you have? How much does your master pay you each year? How many nights do you spend sleeping under the open sky? You're this strong—and still scrounge for a few taels of silver. In terms of degradation, you're far worse than me."

"Insolent!"

Trees stirred without wind. Countless leaves transformed into blades, slicing through the air toward Chen Guanlou's face.

Chen Guanlou waved his hand—a plain twig fell into his grip. He casually flicked it, forming a knife flourish. The once-mighty leaves fell lifelessly to the ground, swept away by the wind.

"You're not from the Hidden Vein—why can't I perceive your cultivation? What technique do you practice? Can it conceal your true level?"

"May I ask, Senior, what technique do you practice? I still can't see your face. Your technique is astonishing—it hides your appearance."

"You're a martial arts master, yet you sink to living in Tianlaomiao, complacent, lazy—shameful for any martial artist."

"Same to you! You're a martial artist who chooses to be a thief—and worse, you let others treat you like a dog. If you're short on silver, tell me. My rank may be low, but I've got money. Fellow martial artists should help each other. Take the silver, and tell me about your mission. At dawn, we part ways—deal?"

"You're rich?" The other sounded surprised, half-testing, half-disgusted, half-indifferent, and one part suppressed resentment.

Why on earth?!