Chapter 391: Whoever Protects Me, I Believe In

When the seven days were up, with a rumbling roar, the three gates of the Jia-class prison slowly opened, and a foul, indescribable stench rushed out.

The jailers all waved their hands like fans, trying to disperse the stench, but to no avail.

No one can get in!

Even jailers, used to Changnianyuzhuoqidajiaodao, couldn't bear this smell—no one knew what state the imprisoned officials were in.

They sent laborers in first to clean, spending nearly a full day just to preliminarily clear it, then sprinkling lime for disinfection.

Chen Guanlou took a jar of ointment from Mu Yiguan, smeared it on his nose, and now smelled nothing but the pungent medicinal odor. He descended the steps and entered the Tianlaomiao, where sunlight had never touched.

Walking past cell after cell, he saw the imprisoned officials—listless, half-dead, filthy, and mad—and his mood instantly improved.

Good riddance!

All of them were used to being arrogant, yet even locked in Tianlaomiao, they couldn't control their hands—secretly colluding was fine, but why kill?

No one cared about these things before; no one cared if jailers lived or died. Now that he was jailer of the Jia-class prison, this was his territory—he would not allow such incidents to happen again. Whoever dared act out, he'd impose collective punishment: the entire prison would suffer together.

This rule must be established.

He arrived before the cell holding Xie Changling, staring at the man's sunken cheeks, matted beard and hair, bloodshot eyes—exhausted from days without sleep—with not a trace of sympathy.

"How are you feeling, Master Xie?"

Xie Changling lay sprawled on the ground, worms crawling over his head, unmoving. Who could have imagined this man, once so noble and radiant, the former top imperial scholar, reduced to this state? Truly pitiful.

"I've seen your methods, Jailor Chen. I'm impressed," came the sarcastic reply. He'd suffered greatly, and hatred had taken root. Hunger could be endured; spiritual torment could kill.

For scholars, spiritual needs outweighed material ones. Especially for a top scholar like him—his heart burned with rage.

Chen Guanlou chuckled softly, dismissing it: "My methods mean nothing, not worth mentioning. You haven't seen Tianlaomiao's true tortures yet. Those are the ones that make you beg to die but can't. Everyone says ZhaoYu is hell—those who enter lose half their lives. But Tianlaomiao's methods aren't much different from ZhaoYu's."

"Only, our jailers follow rules, have boundaries. We don't use those methods unless absolutely necessary. But some think our restraint means weakness—so they kill, treat jailers' lives as worthless. This time, I'm telling everyone: we jailers can drop our boundaries too. We can break our rules. Don't push us too far."

"Why tell me this, Jailor Chen? I've done nothing. I'm innocent—I've suffered unjustly."

Xie Changling spoke with open, upright demeanor, showing no guilt. He stood tall, unafraid of any investigation. Don't you dare blame him.

"I never said you did. I only want you to understand: everything has a boundary. Don't push people too far."

"Jailor Chen, you're joking. You're surnamed Chen—no one would be foolish enough to kill you."

"Master Xie, you're wrong. Someone really wants to kill me—and not just once."

Xie Changling raised an eyebrow slightly, but said nothing.

Chen Guanlou crouched down, closer to Xie Changling. "You've suffered these past few days."

Xie Changling remained silent.

Chen Guanlou continued: "You imprisoned officials—you're already locked in Tianlaomiao, yet still stir up trouble, dragging innocent people into your schemes. Your secret maneuvers, I've always turned a blind eye. You took my tolerance for weakness. Indeed, one mustn't be too kind—you must show your fangs now and then. Have you ever heard of ZhaoYu prisoners killing jailers? Those in ZhaoYu are all obedient. Hmph! Cowardly, spineless bastards—only bully the weak, fear the strong."

Xie Changling half-closed his eyes, avoiding Chen Guanlou's gaze.

He didn't argue, but said: "Jailor Chen, are you pleased with this collective punishment?"

"Of course I am. Looking through Tianlaomiao, seeing you all listless, terrified, repulsed—I'm delighted. And the Ministry of Justice? Not a single word. Clearly, they approve of this punishment—they want me to clean you up."

Chen Guanlou sounded like a petty man who'd just gained power—boastful, arrogant, his words dripping with exaggeration.

Xie Changling opened his eyes, feigning confusion. "Why tell me this, Jailor Chen? Do you suspect I sent men to kill you? I have no grudge against you. I openly colluded with the outside world—I wouldn't kill you, nor any jailer. I'm innocent."

"Every prisoner who enters says he's innocent."

Chen Guanlou couldn't explain why he suspected Xie Changling of sending assassins. If pressed, it was a faint, elusive intuition—not strong enough to confirm guilt, but enough to feel a connection.

Even if Xie Changling didn't arrange it, someone close to him did.

Old Zhao couldn't find clues—not because there were none, but because he dared not dig deeper. Old Zhao was old, valued his life—he knew things but would never speak them.

This had nothing to do with Prince Zhong. A man of his stature wouldn't bother paying attention to a lowly jailer.

Xie Changling had a dark secret.

Had he accidentally uncovered it—and that's why the martial artist tried to kill him? If he were truly just an ordinary jailer, he'd be dead already.

Xie Changling turned his head, clearly signaling: I won't waste words on you.

Chen Guanlou didn't care about his attitude—he just wanted to talk. "If you really can't stand me, and want to kill me, just tell me outright. You won't succeed anyway. I'll chat with you, help you vent—so you don't get desperate and kill yourselves. The Jia-class prison's death quota isn't even met yet."

Xie Changling sneered: "You've got a huge heart. Someone wants to kill you, and you want to chat and counsel them? You're that optimistic?"

"They can't kill me."

"Why not? Do you have immortality?"

"I have a talisman. An old fortune-teller said I'll live past a hundred."

"You believe in fortune-tellers?"

"Why not?"

"As a scholar, you should revere spirits but keep your distance."

"I'm only a half-baked scholar—not like your proper scholars. I believe in books, and I believe in spirits. Whoever protects me, I believe in."

"Pragmatic!"

"You're not pragmatic? Then why spend every day scheming for promotion and wealth? Look at your face when Yu Zhaoan became Grand Secretary—twisted with envy. Master Xie, you pretend nobility, but your soul is crawling with greed. Don't deny it. Everyone who enters Tianlaomiao eventually shows their true face."