Chapter 417

After all the Ministry of Justice officials had left, Prison Warden Lei darted into the public office of Cell Block Jia, driving out everyone else warming themselves by the fire.

Chen Guanlou: …

Prison Warden Lei, you're an official—can't you do your job without being so sleazy? It's undignified! If this gets out, your authority as prison warden will take another hit.

"What did Vice Minister Sun tell you?" Prison Warden Lei looked tense, almost manic, as if he might snap at any moment.

Chen Guanlou didn't answer right away, but asked in return: "Did Vice Minister Sun make any promises to you?"

"Promises? Pfft. He flat-out refused to send anyone to guard the Heavenly Prison. The safety of Great Ming Wang rests entirely on our prison guards. Tell me—how are your men supposed to hold off anyone?"

"No one can hold them off." Chen Guanlou replied honestly.

Prison Warden Lei seethed inwardly. Logically, he had no courage to resent Vice Minister Sun—but now, with his life at stake, he no longer cared about rank or hierarchy; he hated Vice Minister Sun with every fiber of his being.

"Then what do we do?"

Chen Guanlou soothed him: "Vice Minister Sun promised that if something truly happens, he'll do his best to protect everyone in the Heavenly Prison."

"Really?" Prison Warden Lei, drowning in despair, finally glimpsed a sliver of hope and urgently sought confirmation.

"Actually, my lord, you needn't worry so much. Great Ming Wang's importance is undeniable. Think about it—what would happen if he were actually rescued?"

Prison Warden Lei frowned, deep in thought. "What would happen? Some would rejoice, others would despair. The Ministry of Justice would be shrouded in gloom, burning with anxiety. The court would erupt in arguments over blame. If blame must be assigned, the Ministry of Justice would be the first to fall. Our Heavenly Prison…"

"Our Heavenly Prison is just a tiny, insignificant unit. Everyone above knows exactly what kind of men we are." Chen Guanlou added.

Prison Warden Lei nodded silently. "You're right. The public doesn't know our level, but the court certainly does. Expecting us to stop a bandit jailbreak is a joke. Even if blame must be assigned, it wouldn't fall on us. They won't let the Ministry of Justice off the hook—they'll crush it. Wait, it doesn't make sense. How could Vice Minister Sun not see this? If he knows the consequences, why leave us to rot? Does he really want the Ministry of Justice to be torn apart by everyone?"

Prison Warden Lei racked his brain but couldn't figure out the logic behind it. He couldn't understand what the Ministry of Justice officials were plotting.

Chen Guanlou casually muttered: "Maybe the Ministry of Justice already has a backup plan. Or perhaps some things are destined—fate itself!"

"Don't talk about fate," Prison Warden Lei shuddered. His mind was like congealed porridge, a tangled mess. He felt the Ministry of Justice was playing a game of weiqi, and he, as a pawn, couldn't fathom its strategy.

"I just can't understand it." He was deeply troubled.

Chen Guanlou advised him: "Why torment yourself? Even if the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up. If you can't figure it out, don't figure it out—it won't change how you live."

"You're right. It won't change how I live." Prison Warden Lei left, carrying a storm of thoughts, deciding that from now on, he'd never set foot in the Heavenly Prison unless absolutely necessary. This place cursed him—every visit brought nothing but misfortune.

Once he'd made enough money next year, he'd find a way to transfer out of here. This dump? Let someone else have it—he didn't want it.

Chen Guanlou warmed himself by the fire a while longer, then descended into the prison and walked straight to the cell of the rebel Great Ming Wang.

Physician Mu was setting his bones.

Chen Guanlou asked curiously: "Bones broken? No wonder Great Ming Wang never screamed in pain."

Great Ming Wang, seeing Chen Guanlou, flickered his gaze and instinctively tensed every muscle in his body.

Physician Mu patted his shoulder. "Relax. Don't clench up. It'll be over soon."

Chen Guanlou smiled knowingly and stood by, watching Physician Mu work. He possessed the Fruit of Immortality, which automatically healed his injuries—he never caught a cold, never felt pain. He'd never experienced Physician Mu's skills firsthand, and sometimes, when he felt melancholy, he regretted it.

That feeling? It's called being fussy.

He was a fussy person.

Physician Mu expertly reset Great Ming Wang's bones, applied ointment, strapped on wooden splints, and gave medical instructions: "Avoid movement for half a month. Let the guards or laborers handle any chores. Don't overexert yourself. Your body may be strong, but you're no longer young."

Chen Guanlou checked the records: Great Ming Wang was forty-five—middle-aged, even elderly, by any standard. Men his age were already grandfathers.

At forty, he started a rebellion, shook the realm to its core, and even if he failed, he'd lived a life worth remembering. The people will forget him someday—but history will forever record him. Even centuries from now, readers will still see his name.

That's a kind of success. A life no one else can replicate. Perhaps future generations will even revere him, worship him. Truly impressive.

Chen Guanlou asked Physician Mu: "Any other ailments?"

"I've already told the guards everything and written the prescription. Great Ming Wang, didn't your army have its own physicians?" Physician Mu asked curiously, mainly because Great Ming Wang carried too many chronic injuries—poorly treated, some even mismedicated.

Great Ming Wang replied calmly: "We had physicians—but they used to be veterinarians. After joining me, they switched to treating soldiers."

Physician Mu looked utterly speechless. No wonder the medicine didn't work. Dammit—veterinarians treating humans? These rebels really could do the impossible.

"When you were winning, you seized so much territory—why didn't you capture a few physicians to serve as army doctors? Don't tell me you couldn't control them." Chen Guanlou asked curiously.

Great Ming Wang sighed. "My men were all poor. Only during victories did we have temporary wealth. Back then, we didn't understand anything—we only cared about grain, gold, silver, jewels, women. By the time we realized our mistake and went searching for medicine, it was all gone. Even the best cook can't make a meal without rice. Even if we had good physicians, without medicine, what could we do? My lands never produced herbs—everything had to be imported. I wanted to open a trade route, but every time I had a chance, the imperial army came crashing down. It felt like they knew we were short on medicine and weapons—and deliberately attacked when we were weakest. Tell me—is there a traitor among us?"

"You don't need a traitor. Even your toes could guess you're short on medicine. If you didn't seize enough, it's either with the wealthy or the imperial troops—never with you. Just ask any clerk to tally your accounts, and you'll see your situation crystal clear. With your conditions, the empire took years to crush you. You've got remarkable resilience."

Chen Guanlou genuinely praised him.

But Great Ming Wang didn't take it well—his expression grew even darker.