Chapter 387

Crash!

As Chen Guanglou stepped out of the official office, a heavy thud echoed behind him.

He twitched his lips slightly but didn't stop walking, returning to his own office.

Yet his hearing and sight were sharp—every sound from the Warden of Thunder's office reached his ears. It was maddening, so he simply left the Tianlao and went for a stroll through the streets.

The moment he stepped out of Tianlao, the Warden of Thunder emerged from the office, his steps hurried, as if he'd run a few paces.

The Warden of Thunder unleashed all his fury and bellowed, "Chen Guanglou, don't get too arrogant."

Chen Guanglou heard it, but he didn't care—he'd blended into the crowd, lost in the bustle of mortal life.

Other jailers and clerks quickly ducked behind doors. Chen Guanglou could ignore the Warden of Thunder, but they lacked such powerful backing—they still had to bow and scrape, at least put on a show, lest someone find grounds to strike.

Lu Datou beamed and said, "My brother Chen is the real deal."

"How old are you? How old is Warden Chen? You call him 'brother'? Can you even say it?"

"You don't get it! Brotherhood isn't about age—it's about strength. Tell me, shouldn't I call him brother?" Lu Datou expounded his logic while glancing around smugly, like a peacock spreading its tail.

Subordinates love two things most: first, getting paid—lots and lots of money. Second, watching their superiors get humiliated—that thrill is like an elixir, keeping them buzzing all day. And such gossip lingers, hot and lively—even three or five years later, it's still talked about.

Right now, everyone was laughing at the Warden of Thunder's humiliation—and five years from now, this joke would still circulate among the jailers, brought up from time to time.

Xu Fugui, speaking as a veteran, remarked, "Too impulsive, far too impulsive. Young people just can't hold their temper. The Warden of Thunder is still your superior—you owe him some face. Little Chen's showing off in the Jia-class cells? I say, enough already. Those prisoners aren't ocean-sized bandits; they can't take much punishment, and they can't afford to die. Back then, I said young men still need training—they're not ready for heavy responsibility, and trouble was bound to come. But no one listened to me."

Lu Datou secretly rolled his eyes but didn't retort outright—only said, "My brother Chen is young, yet he holds the position of jailer—he has his own strengths. Even without the Hou Fu as backing, he climbed here through sheer ability. I know many are jealous of him—useless! Ask yourselves: do you have his brains? Do you have the guts to stand up for dead jailers? All of you are cowards."

"You talk, but don't insult people," Xu Fugui snapped. "Lu Datou, your work ethic has always been problematic. I've never said anything, but you should have some self-awareness. Don't go looking for trouble."

Lu Datou chuckled silently, saying nothing.

Xu Fugui went on lecturing, "Don't think calling Chen Guanglou 'brother' means you've got a shield. You're trash—you'll never rise to the table. Your 'brother' might soon grow tired of you, ashamed of the shame you bring him."

Lu Datou clenched his fists. Had the timing been right, had he been a few years younger, his fist would've already landed on Xu Fugui's face.

Now, Lu Datou held back his rage and grinned, "If my brother ever tires of me, wouldn't that suit you perfectly, Xu Jailor? Then you could trample me however you like—how delightful for you."

"Vulgar! I'm not as low as you imagine," Xu Fugui put on a righteous air, his disdain for Lu Datou unmistakable—a single rotten apple, and only Chen Guanglou treasures it. What kind of taste is that? Lu Datou's got all five poisons in him—what's worth caring for? And even if you care once or twice, enough already—why keep it up? Your reach is too long.

Lu Datou had given up completely—let you curse, let you rant; if you think you've won by changing anything, fine. "Yes, yes, Xu Jailor is the most fair, utterly impartial. I'd say the Warden's seat should be yours."

Xu Fugui: …

Lu Datou had finally said something pleasant.

With his seniority, he was more than qualified to be Warden.

Yet those above never considered men like him—the Warden was always chosen from outside. They'd rather pick a lowlife like the Warden of Thunder than choose him.

It's all about backing and connections.

If he were willing to spend his Qian Cai, maybe he could too…

Never mind. Those above have insatiable appetites—they can never be satisfied. The Qian Cai he'd painstakingly saved couldn't be tossed into a bottomless pit.

What if, after two years as Warden, he got kicked out? Where would he go? He couldn't go back to being a jailer.

Xu Fugui shook off his chaotic thoughts and focused on hiding behind the door, watching the Warden of Thunder's humiliation.

The Warden of Thunder seemed to realize his situation—he'd become a laughingstock, publicly humiliated.

Unthinkable.

It was all Chen Guanglou's fault.

Chen Guanglou had become the Tianlao's troublemaker, defiant and unmanageable. What talk of duty and rules? As Warden, he couldn't even inquire about the lower cells—what kind of rule is that?

While Chen Guanglou was away, the Warden of Thunder's eyes darted, summoning the head jailers of the Jia-class cells to his office for a reprimand.

Xiao Jin was tense and anxious, but his resolve was firm: no matter what the Warden said, he'd follow Chen Guanglou's orders. He also quietly sent someone to the streets to fetch Chen Guanglou back to take charge.

Shi Hong showed no respect to anyone—he let the Warden talk, while his mind wandered elsewhere, utterly indifferent.

Wu's eyes darted around, calculating how much he could gain from this incident—should he make a move, take advantage of the chaos? If forced to pick a side, how should he respond?

Wang's expression was calmest—he smoked his pipe like an old farmer. No matter what happened above, he stuck to his own way—unchanging, unshaken.

"Speak up, speak up—say what's on your mind," the Warden of Thunder began, feigning openness to opinions. "Chen Jailor's caused such a stir—have any of you even gone down to the Jia-class cells these past few days? What's it like down there? People are dying, aren't they?" But no one took the bait.

The atmosphere was painfully awkward.

The Warden of Thunder's cheek muscles twitched twice uncontrollably, his rage surging—but he forced himself to restrain it. He let out a cold snort. "No one speaks? Then I'll call names. Shi Hong—you speak."

Shi Hong looked confused, glancing around. "Speak about what?"

The Warden of Thunder glared, eyes brimming with murderous intent. "Speak about what? What do you mean, 'what'? What did I tell you to say? Shi Hong—do you even want to keep your position as head jailer?"

"My position was appointed by Magistrate Fan—he's still in the Ministry of Justice. If you want to remove me, first talk to Magistrate Fan."

"How dare you!"