Chapter 938: Deceive Him Once

The next morning, Chen Guanlou avoided everyone and slipped quietly into the commander’s tent.

The Marquis of Pingjiang had been waiting a long time; a full table of breakfast dishes, each with its own flavor.

“Warriors always have big appetites. I specifically instructed the cooks to prepare several extra dishes—see if anything suits your taste. Here with me, no need for formality; do as you please.”

Chen Guanlou didn’t refuse; he picked up a meat bun and started eating.

“What does my lord require? If there’s nothing urgent, I plan to return to the capital today.”

“Not used to the northwest climate?”

“Indeed not. Though Beijing’s climate isn’t great either, Beijing is still Beijing. I love bustle and comfort—I can’t endure hardship.”

“Hah… You keep saying you can’t endure hardship, yet in just a few years you’ve reached the ninth rank. Even with extraordinary talent or rare fortune, none of it would matter without diligent practice.”

“My lord, no need to flatter me—I know my flaws well, and I never hide them. Now, I can accept my shortcomings calmly and face others’ criticism without resentment.”

I let it go in one ear and out the other—never let it stick.

Chen Guanlou took things lightly.

Precisely because he took things lightly and his mind was clear, his cultivation progressed smoothly, encountering no major obstacles. No demonic thoughts, no cultivation deviations—none of it ever happened.

In his view, many warriors stalled at bottlenecks because they thought too much, their hearts clogged with thoughts, unable to remain clear—and thus unable to advance.

In life, eat and drink—that’s all. Overthinking harms health and longevity.

“Your temperament suits you well!”

The Marquis casually praised him, agreeing, then continued: “You probably wouldn’t relish a heavy responsibility. Forget it. Return and tell Chen Guanfu to act cautiously, don’t be impulsive. If the old lady truly takes a turn for the worse, do whatever must be done—follow the rules strictly; you can’t go wrong.”

“That’s all?” Chen Guanlou was surprised. “My lord, what about you?”

“I don’t need you worrying about me—just don’t cause trouble.”

So the Marquis had already made his preparations.

Chen Guanlou said nothing more, took the sealed wooden box, rose, and departed, setting off for the capital.

On the way, he stopped by Zhen’an Temple outside Jinzhou to meet the wild monk Liu Daowen.

Liu Daowen had grown even rounder; he seemed to have taken to monkhood like an addiction, utterly content.

When he saw Chen Guanlou, he was genuinely stunned.

Without hesitation, he quickly led him to a quiet side room.

“Prison Warden Chen, long time no see!”

“I’m the same as ever. But you—Cheng Wang is gone. Why keep being a monk? No plans to reunite with your family?”

“Prison Warden Chen, you jest. With this face of mine, how could I ever dare recognize my family? Just staying alive is enough. Besides, I’ve grown used to this life—being a monk is fine. The abbot doesn’t enforce rules strictly; I have some freedom.”

As he spoke, Liu Daowen chuckled awkwardly, feeling a bit embarrassed himself.

Once a corrupt official, one of Jiang Tu’s underlings, he faked his death and escaped—now he’s a monk, seemingly found joy in life.

Chen Guanlou raised an eyebrow slightly. “Really planning to stay here your whole life?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Liu Daowen said with a forced smile.

“Cheng Wang and his son are both dead. You know that, right?”

“I heard! Ah! Rebellion is no business to be in—your head’s always on a rope. I can’t do anything, so I just chant sutras for Cheng Wang and his son, perform a rite for them—may they be safe and peaceful in their next life, live to ninety-nine.”

“You’re thoughtful. There’s one thing I need to ask you.”

“Don’t speak of asking—I’ll answer anything you ask, I swear I’ll tell you everything.”

Chen Guanlou smiled faintly. “The Cheng Wang heir was imprisoned in Tianlaomiao. I spoke with him several times and heard something. He said Cheng Wang had a personal guard unit; after Cheng Wang’s death, they vanished. He swore to me their loyalty was absolute—loyal only to Cheng Wang. He suspects Cheng Wang, before dying, made arrangements to hide them.”

“Is that true?” Liu Daowen looked utterly bewildered. “I’ve spent years in this temple, rarely in contact with Cheng Wang’s circle. I truly had no knowledge of this!”

“You really didn’t know? Didn’t you hide them yourself?”

Chen Guanlou casually lied.

“I’m innocent!” Liu Daowen cried out immediately, voice full of genuine anguish—the kind no actor could fake. “Why would you suspect me? I—I—I, what virtue or ability do I have to be entrusted with Cheng Wang’s final wishes? If I had such trust, such power, why would I have spent all these years hiding timidly in this temple? My lord, don’t joke—this could get someone killed!”

“Precisely because you’ve stayed far from Cheng Wang’s mansion—even most people don’t know you exist—you’re the perfect candidate for such a trust.”

“How can you say that? I’m an outsider; my only connection to Cheng Wang was a financial transaction. Why would you assume Cheng Wang trusted me enough to entrust his personal guard to me? He had so many others…”

“All of them—every last one—were arrested, or surrendered to the troops and now serve under the Marquis of Pingjiang. As part of their bargain for survival, why wouldn’t they hand over this missing guard unit? Thinking it through, tracing the list, you’re the only one left unaccounted for—your identity is unique, perfect for concealment!”

Chen Guanlou spun wild theories, rambling wildly—yet it sounded increasingly plausible.

“Absolutely false.” Liu Daowen declared firmly, denying outright. “I’ve never even met Cheng Wang. I only heard of his death from temple visitors. Prison Warden Chen, please—I beg you, don’t frame me. I can’t bear it! I have no money to buy another rescue from some prince!”

So pitiful!

Chen Guanlou couldn’t help doubting himself—had he guessed wrong?

Had Liu Daowen truly turned over a new leaf, become a true disciple of the Buddha?

“Stop talking nonsense. When did I frame you? I just said it offhand—why are you so panicked? Are you guilty?”

Liu Daowen’s cheek muscles twitched several times—he’d never met such a brazen scoundrel, who turned the accusation around! The man had accused him first, yet now claimed Liu Daowen was guilty of guilt.

Injustice!

Heavenly Judge, strike this Chen with a bolt of lightning!

“Yes, yes, Prison Warden Chen, you didn’t frame me—I overthought it. You know my situation; how could I not panic? If anyone discovered my true identity, my head would be gone in an instant. I am guilty of fear! After all, everything now is a disguise!”

He openly admitted he was afraid.

Chen Guanlou suddenly felt he’d gone too far. “You’d better really be innocent.”

“I swear I’m innocent,” Liu Daowen vowed, raising his hand to heaven.

Chen Guanlou grunted twice. “Keep our meeting secret. Goodbye.”

“Prison Warden Chen, take care—come again soon!” Liu Daowen cheerfully saw him off, visibly relieved.