Chapter 459: Just Keep Living

As the Sacrificial Rite approached, Chen Guanlou assigned more guards to watch over the Great Ming King.

The Great Ming King silently counted down his remaining days.

Many wanted him dead—dead before the Sacrificial Rite—to sabotage it.

This left the Tianlaomiao staff exhausted and overwhelmed.

Mu Yiguan had to reside permanently at Tianlaomiao, with no time even for himself.

Chen Guanlou cursed those people bitterly.

The Great Ming King is merely a tool. Even if he dies before the Sacrificial Rite, what does it matter? We can simply replace him with another offering, another tool. He's not irreplaceable. If killing him could sabotage the Sacrificial Rite, you're vastly underestimating the palace. I don't believe the palace has no contingency plan. They've surely already prepared a substitute offering—perhaps one with an even better birth chart.

Mu Yiguan found him tiresome. "Talking to me won't help. If you're capable, tell those scheming fools yourself."

Chen Guanlou sighed. If he could uncover the mastermind behind it all, why would he be venting in Tianlaomiao?

He asked Mu Yiguan, "Will the Great Ming King hold out until the Sacrificial Rite? Don't let him actually die—that'll bring a mountain of trouble."

"The Great Ming King is now extremely weak. He's been poisoned too many times. Even though the poison has been neutralized, his root has been damaged. Even without the Sacrificial Rite, he won't live much longer."

Mu Yiguan spread his hands—it was unavoidable. All medicine carries some toxicity, let alone being poisoned every few days. His body hasn't fully collapsed only because Mu Yiguan's medical skill is exceptional.

Chen Guanlou asked for little: "Just live until the Sacrificial Rite."

The Sacrificial Rite was set for the second day of the second lunar month, the Day of the Dragon's Head—an auspicious date certified by the Imperial Astronomical Bureau. It was said the ritual ground had already been constructed, with a towering altar built under Jiang Tu's personal supervision. The palace had halted all garden renovations; every craftsman was redirected to the altar site.

The altar stood in the northern city, behind the imperial palace. It was said the Imperial Astronomical Bureau had personally selected the location.

Chen Guanlou descended into the dungeon to visit the Great Ming King.

The Great Ming King looked plump, but it was merely edema. A closer look revealed his body was swollen, giving the illusion of weight gain.

Chen Guanlou asked with concern: "How's your health? Can you hold on?"

The Great Ming King nodded firmly. "I won't die."

Chen Guanlou told him, "I've ordered the physician to remove the poison from your body. Now you only need to take your medicine on schedule and rest well. Strive to arrive at the altar healthy and strong on the day you see daylight again."

The Great Ming King chuckled. "They built an entire altar just to kill me? My treatment is unprecedented."

"You're overestimating yourself. Even without you, there would be another offering. You're not important—what matters is the Sacrificial Rite itself."

"Officer Chen, why do you always try to crush me? Even if I wanted to recruit you to rebel, shouldn't you show mercy to a man about to die?"

"I'm just trying to make you sober. Don't indulge in fantasies," Chen Guanlou snorted. "Just hold on. If you want anything to eat, tell me—I'll have the kitchen prepare it."

"I don't want anything to eat. My two greatest regrets are: one, my great cause remains unfinished; two, after all these years, I've left no son or daughter."

Chen Guanlou replied immediately: "Tianlaomiao doesn't provide baby-making services. Give up."

"What if I pay for it? I'll pay—could you ask outside if any woman would bear me a child?" The Great Ming King was always dreaming up absurd ideas.

Chen Guanlou often thought: rebels truly had minds unlike ordinary people. While ordinary people faced with hardship either accepted fate, fled, or sought help, rebels thought only of overthrowing heaven itself—death is nothing, but if you live, you live forever.

"Great Ming King, what do you think Tianlaomiao is? You want to leave an heir? Drop these delusions. I don't have time to play with you."

"Officer Chen, can't you make an exception? I'm the most important prisoner here. For a high-profile convict, a few special requests shouldn't be too much to ask."

Chen Guanlou laughed bitterly. "Tianlaomiao doesn't offer this service. Give up."

"If you refuse, I'll kill myself early." The Great Ming King was skilled at exploiting himself to achieve his goals. He knew Chen Guanlou feared for his safety, so he threatened suicide.

Chen Guanlou didn't indulge him. "Go ahead and die—don't hesitate. I've already said it: you're just an offering. As an offering, know your place. The Sacrificial Rite doesn't need you. There are countless people here—I'm sure we can find one with a better birth chart. If not, we can buy one. A little makeup, and we say it's you—who cares about the truth?"

The Great Ming King was stunned.

He thought his own ideas were bizarre—but Chen Guanlou's were even stranger.

Chen Guanlou watched his shocked expression and smiled, whispering: "Don't think I'm joking. This is standard procedure in Tianlaomiao. You don't really believe all the jailers here are upright, law-abiding men, do you? Clearly you've never dealt with the imperial legal officials—you don't even know these basics. Tell me, Great Ming King, what kind of rebellion have you even mounted?"

"It's precisely because of scoundrels like you that this dynasty is rotten to the core," the Great Ming King suddenly turned into a righteous crusader, launching into a furious tirade.

Chen Guanlou watched his impotent rage with calm expression.

What could be more thrilling than destroying a man's last hope?

His view of the Great Ming King was complex: he admired the man's courage—anyone bold enough to raise a banner in rebellion deserved respect. Yet he despised his character—a worthless man, merely a product of circumstance who achieved greatness, though ultimately failed. But he had lived, left his mark, and thus his life was not in vain—history would record him.

The Great Ming King ranted for a long time, venting all the resentment he had stored inside. But when he met Chen Guanlou's calm expression, he suddenly felt drained, realizing he had misread the situation.

His spirit collapsed instantly.

He felt the world was beyond saving.

"Don't worry—I won't kill myself. I must see the old emperor. I have much to say to him. I will hold on until the Sacrificial Rite. I will tell him face to face: he is rotten. He is the worst emperor since the founding emperor of the Great Qian Dynasty."

"Good luck to you!" Chen Guanlou had never attended the Sacrificial Rite—he didn't know the rituals or the scale. But he could imagine: security would be extreme, the spectacle immense. In such a setting, the Great Ming King would never be allowed to speak—lest order be lost.

"Do you really not care whether I live or die?" the Great Ming King asked again, seeking confirmation.

Chen Guanlou smiled softly, dismissively: "If you die, I have countless ways to make you 'alive' at the Sacrificial Rite—and then have you slowly flayed alive. So if you want to see the old emperor, just live well."