Chapter 37: Cast into Prison

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Chapter 37: Thrown into Prison

Another three years passed. It was now the eighth year of the Gongzhi era. Qin Yuan had been in this world for twenty-one years, and he was forty-one.

He examined his body.

The Dao Platform, where his divine consciousness resided, had shrunk from the size of a vast lake to half the size of a fishpond.

The Golden Membrane had advanced from seventy-five percent completion to ninety percent.

His Sea of Qi had expanded vertically until it was the size of a coal mountain.

The Five Beasts Slaughtering Art was nearing perfection.

His Tyrant Blade technique had reached mastery.

His magical power had increased from seventy years to a hundred.

“My achievements today are entirely the result of my own efforts,” Qin Yuan declared proudly.

As long as he himself felt no embarrassment, the embarrassed one would be someone else.

A moment later, Qin Yuan appeared before a bronze mirror.

In truth, he had no need for a mirror. But life required a sense of ceremony—especially for someone who would never grow old.

“Old.”

Like Yin Zhong, who had lived for five hundred years, Qin Yuan allowed his hair, beard, and eyebrows to turn white and grow long amid the gale stirred by his surging aura.

In less than fifteen minutes, he looked a hundred years old.

He seemed liable to breathe his last at any moment.

Soon, Qin Yuan returned his appearance to that of a man around forty.

He was still handsome.

Sure enough, being handsome was a lifelong affair.

At precisely the hour of the Dragon, Qin Yuan arrived at the tranquil and harmonious Left Historians’ Office. Amid the greetings of countless juniors, he came before the residence of the office’s head.

He raised his hand and knocked.

“Bang, bang, bang.”

“Come in.”

Qin Yuan entered.

His old superior, Yang Huchan, was seated behind a desk.

The old fellow remained as splendid as ever.

After You Ting’s downfall, he had clung to General Duan Hu’s coattails.

He truly was an untopplable survivor in the sea of officialdom.

“Yuanda, you came at just the right time. Talk some sense into that nephew of yours. Tell him to stop doing foolish things. If I hadn’t vouched for him before General Duan, he would already be dead.”

Yang Huchan spoke with a pained expression.

“You have gone to a great deal of trouble, Chief.”

Qin Yuan’s face was apologetic.

What had happened?

Over the past few years, the demons and monsters unleashed by Duan Hu and Feng Gou had grown more numerous, causing public resentment throughout the north to boil over.

Many farsighted men had stepped forward, calling on everyone to overthrow the rule of Duan Hu and Feng Gou.

In recent months, the most vocal of them had been his dear nephew, Shao Pingping.

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Not only had he written article after article in the tabloids and posted denunciations condemning Duan Hu and Feng Gou, he had even gone to the entrance of the governing offices and cursed them to their faces.

He had now been locked away in the Heavenly Prison, where sunlight never reached.

“Rest assured, Chief Compiler. I’ll take care of this.”

Qin Yuan was about to leave when Yang Huchan suddenly asked, “Yuanda, your cultivation still hasn’t reached the Ninth Rank?”

“Not yet.”

Qin Yuan shook his head.

A Ninth-Rank martial artist who reached that level step by step, without taking shortcuts, would be a prime target for every faction’s efforts to win him over.

Only a fool would reveal Ninth-Rank cultivation under these circumstances.

A trace of disappointment flashed through Yang Huchan’s eyes.

Recently, Duan Hu and Feng Gou had been frantically searching for Ninth-Rank martial artists who had never practiced the Five Beasts Exercise Diagram.

They seemed terribly eager.

If he could find one, he would surely win the pair’s favor.

Everyone said he was an untopplable survivor in the sea of officialdom.

In truth, it was nothing so grand.

If he performed poorly, he could still be cast aside.

After leaving the Left Historians’ Office, Qin Yuan leapt onto his beloved third-generation little donkey.

The first generation had died of old age three years ago, and he had buried it beneath the peach tree.

The second had been struck by lightning on a rainy day the previous year. It had turned into donkey meat on the spot, and Qin Yuan had eaten three large bowls through his tears.

He arrived at the Heavenly Prison, which was as unclean as ever.

He did not even have to present his credentials before entering.

After coming and going for more than twenty years, who in the Heavenly Prison did not know Recorder Qin?

How many of the wardens had not received some benefit from him?

Qin Yuan had originally planned to find an opportunity in a few years to fake his death, then return under a new identity and continue lying low.

Now he hesitated.

The connections he had accumulated over so many years resolved countless problems without anyone noticing.

Starting over would probably be enough to drive him mad.

Before long, Qin Yuan stood outside a relatively clean cell.

Although he had suppressed his breathing completely, Qin Yuan sniffed with his spiritually sealed nose and could still detect the stench of urine.

Alas, it was an ancient prison.

He could not set his standards too high.

Looking inside, he saw Shao Pingping sitting against the wall on a wooden bed that was nearly falling apart. Rust-covered shackles bound his wrists and ankles, but there were no visible injuries on him.

Clearly, the people in the Heavenly Prison had shown Qin Yuan some consideration.

Otherwise, Shao Pingping would have received at least a hundred executioner’s rods.

With his slight build, even if he survived, he would have been beaten half to death.

“Pingping.”

Qin Yuan called out.

Hearing someone familiar call his name, Shao Pingping turned his head. When he saw Qin Yuan, the undisguised affection of a son for an elder appeared on his face.

“Uncle Qin, you came.”

“You little rascal. You caused such a huge disaster, yet you’re acting as though nothing happened.”

After spending so many years together, Qin Yuan had come to regard Shao Pingping as half a son.

The other half was Li Shoumin.

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That other boy, however, gave Qin Yuan no cause for worry.

“It’s already done,” Shao Pingping replied calmly.

His calmness was almost unnatural for someone his age.

“This is not something you can meddle in.”

With that single sentence, Qin Yuan stirred Shao Pingping into agitation.

“When the world rises or falls, every common man bears responsibility. Look at the age we live in—the demons run rampant, and everyone is living like neither human nor ghost. If you do not stand up, and I do not stand up, what hope is there?”

There were three kinds of people in this world: the clever, the foolish, and those willing to be fools.

The third kind was the most precious—and the most beyond saving.

At that moment, a prison guard opened the cell, brought in a table and chairs, and thoughtfully wiped them down.

Following the usual procedure, Qin Yuan took out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, then began his questioning.

“First question: Do you have people from the south supporting you behind the scenes?”

“No.”

Shao Pingping answered without hesitation.

His eyes were clear as well.

Either his ability to lie had reached an almost supernatural level, or he was telling the truth.

Qin Yuan leaned toward the latter.

“Second question: Do you have—”

“Uncle Qin.” Shao Pingping interrupted him. “I have no accomplices either. I oppose those two man-eating demons, Duan Hu and Feng Gou, because I want to rally everyone to eliminate these two great scourges.”

This boy had far more courage than his father.

He even had more courage than Qin Yuan, his uncle.

“Think carefully. You are still young. Once you take this step, there will be no turning back.”

Qin Yuan offered another earnest word of advice.

It was just as he had once advised Lin Yidong.

“Uncle Qin, I have made up my mind. Don’t try to persuade me again.”

Shao Pingping spoke with resolve.

Then he turned around and presented his back to Qin Yuan.

What a little rascal—he changed his attitude faster than one could turn a page.

But considering the heroic spirit and youthful vigor radiating from him, Qin Yuan chose not to take offense.

“Then what about drinking and eating meat? If you don’t want any, I’ll enjoy it alone. It’s all good stuff—you can’t get anything like this in prison.”

Like a magician, Qin Yuan produced a large bundle of cooked donkey meat and a bottle of fifty-year-old Moutai.

This world had Moutai as well; it simply was not very famous in the capital.

As for why he had brought donkey meat rather than beef, duck, or chicken—

That was because Qin Yuan had become addicted to it after eating donkey meat the last time.

“That, I can accept.”

Shao Pingping immediately returned to the table.

With a swift movement of his left hand and right, he began to eat with gusto.

At that moment, Shao Pingping was no different from any ordinary young man.

End of Chapter.