Chapter 998

"Is it true that a convicted official once insulted the Emperor to his face?"

Director Bai was deeply curious.

Chen Guanlou nodded. "It’s true. And not just one."

"What happened to them?"

"Some were beheaded on the execution ground, some had their entire families exiled, and others were acquitted and restored to their former posts."

"They were insulted the Emperor and still got restored to their posts?" Director Bai was stunned. "Didn’t anyone report them?"

"No one else will hear our conversation. So rest assured. Don’t forget—I’m a ninth-rank martial cultivator." Chen Guanlou kindly reminded him.

Director Bai suddenly understood. In the Heavenly Prison, only private talks with Prison Warden Chen were truly safe.

"I’ve heard people say you, Prison Warden Chen, have connections everywhere. As long as the money’s right, nothing’s impossible."

"It’s all thanks to everyone’s goodwill. Whether I can get something done depends on what it is. I’ve failed at tasks before." Chen Guanlou spoke honestly—he wouldn’t raise expectations too high, lest someone grow bold and reckless. Money should be earned steadily, not squandered.

"Then what do you think of my case? Is there any chance of acquittal and restoration to my post?" Director Bai asked softly. He just wanted a reference point.

He still had connections in the capital and had already mobilized them to lobby and gather information on the case’s progress.

Still, he wanted to hear an outsider’s opinion.

"Your case… " Chen Guanlou pondered. "If nothing unexpected happens, the best outcome is dismissal from office, expulsion from the capital, and a lifetime ban from setting foot in the city. Normally, you’d face at least ten years of exile."

"That bad?" Director Bai doubted it, still clinging to hope of a turnaround.

"My dear Director Bai, think for a moment—your patron is gone, and your crimes are ironclad. What do you have to overturn this?"

He’d seen too many officials like Director Bai. When first locked up, they all clung to delusions, believing their fellow townsfolk, classmates, or mentors would spare no effort to save them.

After months or even a year in confinement, they slowly came to see the truth. In the face of self-interest, everyone looks out for themselves.

Only greenhorns, fresh out of the bureaucracy with fiery idealism, would throw everything away—even their own lives—to rescue someone.

Anyone who had survived three or five years in the bureaucracy had long since cooled their passion. They had all become realists.

"Don’t speak nonsense! My charges haven’t been finalized—I still have a chance to turn things around!"

It won’t happen.

Chen Guanlou chuckled. "Your political enemies won’t give you a chance. Even without accusations of embezzlement or corruption, just the charge of stealing relief grain, plus failure to suppress bandits—do you really think you have any chance? Unless you can find a new patron? But do you have the opportunity? What leverage do you have to make a court official vouch for you and pull you out?"

Director Bai frowned. "I’m still useful. How do you know I have no chance?"

"Because I’ve seen a hundred cases like yours—maybe not a thousand, but close. Not a single exception. Director Bai, you’re no rookie. You know better than I do what kind of people the bureaucracy breeds. Put yourself in their shoes—would you risk everything to save a classmate or fellow townsman?"

This question left Director Bai speechless.

He clenched his teeth, still refusing to accept reality. "There are always exceptions!"

"But you’re not one of them."

"Why not me?" Director Bai protested.

Chen Guanlou laughed. "I read faces. Your fortune and official luck are spent. What little wealth luck remains won’t last long. You’d better take care."

"Nonsense!" Director Bai naturally didn’t believe in face-reading.

Chen Guanlou gave him a half-smile, scanning him from head to toe. "Don’t dismiss it. If you accept reality and stop recklessly struggling, you might still live a long life. Otherwise, the consequences are unpredictable."

He spoke with solemn seriousness, utterly convincing.

Director Bai was half-convinced. "You really can read faces?"

"At the ninth-rank martial level, everyone picks up a bit. Each person has their own unique aura. Calling it face-reading is just a metaphor—it’s really about sensing individual energy. From yours, I can see only this much. Whether you believe it is up to you."

Director Bai frowned, deep in thought.

"Then… can you help me?" he asked after a pause.

"How?"

"Get me out of prison safely."

"Impossible!" Chen Guanlou refused outright. To expect safe release? Dream on.

These convicted officials kept growing bolder, daydreaming constantly. Just surviving is luck enough—now they want to return home as wealthy landowners? How sweet.

"Then what can you do? Price is negotiable."

"I can do nothing. You’re different from the others. They were caught up in cases—you’re targeted, and your charges are sealed. The person behind you is powerful. Think about how to avoid disaster instead."

Director Bai looked defeated, wiping his face. "I won’t die."

"All officials die!" Chen Guanlou bluntly shattered his delusion. "Every official locked in the Heavenly Prison doesn’t want to die. But out of ten, three or four always die. Sometimes, the Emperor simply flies into a rage and executes a batch to appease heaven. Pray to the Bodhisattva you won’t be the unlucky one."

"I’ve always been lucky since childhood—I won’t be that unlucky!" Director Bai declared with firm confidence.

His record did show good fortune: mediocre academic performance, yet he passed the imperial exams with astonishing luck—better than even the top students. His official career flowed smoothly. Even finding patrons came effortlessly, without hardship.

But now his luck was spent. The next ten years would be misfortune.

Clearly, Director Bai hadn’t realized this. He still believed good fortune would return.

Chen Guanlou didn’t bother to argue further.

Time would make him see reality.

Even Xie Changling—with such a powerful family and such a formidable background—still spent a year in prison before being released.

How many Xie Changlings are there in this world?

Chen Guanlou surveyed deeper into the prison. The further in, the longer the sentences. Some had been imprisoned for twenty years, utterly forgotten by the outside world. Even the guards rarely came here.

Only the laborers came daily with meals, cleaning every five days in winter, every three in summer.

The stench was unbearable.

Chen Guanlou counted the prisoners. No one was missing.

Whether they matched the official records? He didn’t care. Each one was a mess of beard and hair, like wild weeds, faces caked with grime—no one could tell if someone had been swapped out.

These men were forgotten. Most would die here, locked away until their last breath.