Chapter 69

Chen Guanlou met Lu Datou at the gate, grabbed him, and pulled him to a secluded corner to talk.

“What’s going on? Did Master Kongkong really escape?”

Lu Datou opened his mouth in shock and asked, “You heard about it?”

“Is it true?”

Lu Datou cursed through gritted teeth, “That little thief Kongkong is a coward—he used disguise to slip away without a trace. Now all of us are going to lose our heads. If I catch him, I’ll peel his skin and strip his tendons.”

“Where are you going to find him? Two days left until execution—has the Bing-class prison come up with any solution?” Chen Guanlou was genuinely concerned; they were old colleagues, and he couldn’t bear to see them all die.

Lu Datou harbored a secret, and under Chen Guanlou’s sincere gaze, he grew uneasy. “We’ll handle it ourselves—don’t worry. We won’t let things spiral out of control.”

“Handle it?” Chen Guanlou narrowed his eyes at Lu Datou. Suddenly, he realized something—his expression changed, and he whispered, “Lu Datou, tell me the truth—are you planning to substitute one for another, to deceive heaven and earth?”

“Shh! How did you figure that out? You just know it—don’t say a word. If you speak of it, it won’t work!”

“You really are…” Chen Guanlou couldn’t blame him; since arriving at Tianlao, his integrity had crumbled, his bottom line had sunk lower and lower, and sometimes he even wanted to spit on himself.

The world was this way—no human effort could change it.

Lu Datou looked both guilty and innocent. “Little Chen, you’re different from us—can’t you just pretend you don’t know? Dozens of lives in the Bing-class prison hang on my shoulders. I don’t want this either, but if we don’t do it, everyone dies.”

Chen Guanlou’s face was grim, his eyes locked on Lu Datou. Lu Datou grew uneasy under the stare and muttered, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

Chen Guanlou snorted coldly. “I don’t care how you do it—just don’t drag in the innocent, and don’t force anyone.”

“Yes, yes, yes—don’t worry. I’ve already thought of it. There are plenty of miserable people in the capital—I’ll pay well, and someone will always be willing to die.”

Hearing this, Chen Guanlou could only sigh.

When he was poorest, he still owned a house. He and his neighbors lived frugally, but they were already among the better-off citizens of the capital—solid, stable, with property and principle, the backbone of the city’s stability and the main consumer base for its prosperity.

The truly miserable had no money, no home, and were crippled by years of labor—sick, in debt from medicine and treatment, behind on rent, always one step from being thrown out. Every winter, people froze to death by the dozens.

These were the true bottom of the capital.

Lu Datou’s target was this group. Finding someone whose build matched Master Kongkong’s, someone with weaknesses and burdens, whose life was a drag and whose death could buy his family a better one—wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t easy either.

Chen Guanlou let go of Lu Datou and promised, “I’ll pretend I don’t know. I’ll also keep my jailers quiet—no loose lips. Get on with it—don’t delay. Before they die, at least let them eat a decent meal. A little conscience never hurts.”

“Little Chen, don’t worry—we’ll handle it. We won’t shortchange them. We’ll pick only those who volunteer.”

“Go.”

“Yes!”

Lu Datou hurried off.

Chen Guanlou felt melancholy.

Thinking of Master Kongkong—that thief—had slipped away silently, pulling off a grand escape. And with his disguise skill, finding him now was nearly impossible.

In low spirits, he went to a brothel that night to listen to music.

He transformed into Boss Guan, changed into brocade robes at his Nancheng residence, dressed as a traveling merchant, and headed to the flower streets, summoning the alluring Su Su Niang.

The brothel had a new song—Su Su said they were promoting a new girl for the Flower Queen title. The song was meant for her, to build hype before unveiling her.

“Our madam bought this new girl from afar—she’s been locked away, none of us have seen her. They say she’s been trained since childhood in music, chess, calligraphy, painting—all flawless, and stunningly beautiful. She’ll be formally coiffed next month. Boss Guan, if you’re interested, you must come. It’ll be a spectacle.”

“Is your madam aiming for the upper echelons? What about you—don’t you have any ambitions?”

“I’m a withered flower, a fallen leaf—how could I dare dream? I’m deeply grateful you never turn me away, always calling for me. I toast you, Boss.”

Chen Guanlou laughed, drank the wine Su Su poured, and said, “I love your flavor, Su Su—lazy, yet naturally alluring. Other men are blind—they don’t see your worth.”

Su Su giggled, flinging herself into Chen Guanlou’s arms, her body limp as noodles, delightfully soft.

Real men know what a true beauty is. Only virgins and men lost in fantasy like the pale, young, thin type. “Young” and “thin”? Terrible.

As they played merrily, the downstairs erupted in noise, people coming and going.

Chen Guanlou froze, leaning forward to peer down.

He’d caught a glimpse—he hadn’t mistaken the figure.

He shoved Su Su aside. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He rushed downstairs, searching the crowd for that familiar shadow. He scoured the main hall—no sign. Then he ran to the back courtyard.

The back courtyard had private rooms, each guarded by servants—he was at a disadvantage.

He changed clothes again, climbed onto the roof, and decided to wait all night like a hunter.

Midnight in the capital was silent, deep, like a sleeping beast. Occasionally, patrol troops passed by—like the beast’s fangs. In the distance, the imperial palace still glowed with faint lights.

At midnight, the Embroidered Uniform Guard mobilized en masse—someone else was about to suffer.

Compared to the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s imperial prison, the Tianlao was a resort. Officials feared the imperial prison more than the Tianlao—it was truly nine deaths, one life. Many officials who survived the imperial prison were ruined for life—crippled, disfigured, or doomed to die soon.

Someone emerged from the brothel’s back door.

Watching that back, Chen Guanlou followed without hesitation.

He remembered the man had Second Rank strength. After a year in prison, even if not at peak, he should still retain some skill.

Dark alley!

Chen Guanlou struck instantly—sword drawn, one slash—

Three moves!

He needed only three moves to know he could kill the man within ten. After a year imprisoned, he hadn’t regained his peak.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” the man demanded sharply. His new identity was known to no one—how had this man found him? Where had he slipped up?

Chen Guanlou spoke with the voice of a seasoned Jianghu veteran: “Since you’ve come out, get out of the capital now. With your pitiful skills, you dare linger here? Do you truly not fear death? Then let me send you straight to Yanwang.”