Once you entered Tian Prison, you had to abide by its rules.
If you didn't, the prison guards would teach you the meaning of a life worse than death, of a regret so deep you’d wish you were never born. They didn't need to resort to torture; there were countless ways to make a prisoner submit. Dare to withhold money, and they would show you what hell on earth truly was.
Those with money paid up quickly. Those without had to find a way to get some.
It was a dereliction of duty for a prison guard not to squeeze every last coin out of a prisoner.
Why else would a rookie earn a bonus of eight or ten taels of silver every month, on top of other side income? Money didn't fall from the sky. The prisoners locked up in Tian Prison were the lifeblood of the entire establishment, the guarantee of everyone's income.
Therefore, unless absolutely necessary, the guards preferred that the prisoners in their cells did not die.
Within just a few short days, Mr. Kongkong had finally compromised. He was now eating roast chicken and sipping on wine, and even the wound on his leg had been treated and bandaged.
The Flower Thief in the next cell was more sensible than Mr. Kongkong. Aware of how hated his crimes were, he had decisively cooperated with the guards' demands from his very first day. He gave money when asked and information when pressed, securing himself a life of meat and wine early on.
However, the prices in Tian Prison were steep.
Even a big shot like Mr. Kongkong felt the strain.
He grumbled to Chen Guanlou, "Two meals a day, thirty taels of silver per meal. That's sixty taels a day! Six hundred taels in ten days, six thousand in a hundred. And if I want my bandages changed, that's extra. Damn it, how is this any different from robbery? Do you think it's easy for me to earn money?"
Now familiar with him, Chen Guanlou was willing to exchange a few idle words. "That's a pointless thing to say. You could just choose not to eat."
"Damn it all, if your prison food wasn't so disgusting, I would have just endured it."
"You should be grateful you have anything to eat at all."
"Little brother, how about you help me? I know your rates are cheaper than the others. I have to pay someone, and I'd rather you earn the money than those black-hearted, rotten-gutted bastards."
Ever since receiving Luo Jingtian's package, Chen Guanlou was now a man of some means. He snorted, "Do I look like someone who needs money?"
For anyone thrown into Tian Prison, their desires were reduced to the bare minimum: survival. If they had money, they sought slightly better living conditions, a little good food. If they had money and connections, their demands grew. Besides food, they hoped to resolve their cases quickly and leave Tian Prison alive.
To live, and to live a little better—that was the plea of every prisoner in Tian Prison. For this, most were willing to give up anything short of their own lives, including but not limited to their wives, children, and parents.
"Little brother, please don't think it's too little! Just name your price. I'm just begging for a decent meal," Mr. Kongkong pleaded pitifully.
A half-smile played on Chen Guanlou's lips. "Are you sure? What if I want a cultivation manual? What if I want your unique secret technique? Would you be willing?"
Mr. Kongkong's expression was one of pure surprise. After a moment's hesitation, he asked carefully, as if terrified of giving offense, his tone both solemn and curious, "But you don't have a Martial Vein..."
Mr. Kongkong looked deeply conflicted.
Chen Guanlou didn't press him. This was, after all, a transaction. "Think it over. But let me give you a friendly reminder: even if I can help you, my ability is limited. You're free to treat my words as a joke."
With that, he resumed his patrol of the prison.
Two days later, Mr. Kongkong, having apparently made up his mind, called out to Chen Guanlou again.
"I'm willing to make the trade. If I give you the manual, I don't have to pay money, right?"
"You'd rather give up your secret manual than your money?" Chen Guanlou was quite surprised. It was said that martial artists valued their manuals above all else, and stories of murder and theft over them were commonplace.
Mr. Kongkong gave a bitter smile. He had his own unspoken hardships and had reached a dead end. Otherwise, he would never part with his manual for food, let alone see it as a chance to buy himself a guarantee of safety.
He said resentfully, "I'm not afraid of your retaliation, so I'll be blunt. Those guards want to squeeze me dry, to pick me clean down to the bone. I couldn't afford their extortion even if I had mountains of gold and silver. And I don't.
"I won't hide it from you. I may have committed many heists and seemed to have made a lot of money, but for people like me, money comes and goes quickly. I have no real savings. Otherwise, I wouldn't be so pained to part with silver.
"What I'm afraid of is that once they've squeezed me dry, those seasoned old guards will come for my life. I want to get out of here alive, and I'd rather take my chances with you. Little Brother Chen, you're a decent man. I know you won't be like them."
"But I'm just a rookie."
"A rookie has his own ways. I believe in you, Little Brother Chen."
"You believe in me? I don't even dare to believe in myself."
Mr. Kongkong gritted his teeth, his inner turmoil obvious. But then he thought, since he had already decided to invest in Chen Guanlou, why hesitate? It was time to go all-in.
"I believe in you!" he declared, his voice firm and resolute.
Now it was Chen Guanlou's turn to look at him in a new light. "You won't regret this?"
Mr. Kongkong's words rang out with conviction, "When a man dies, he dies. If he doesn't, he'll live forever. I'll take this gamble. I'm betting that you, Little Brother Chen, are a man of principle."
Chen Guanlou was silent for a moment before he said, "I can't bring you food every day. At most, once every eight or ten days. In between, you'll have to deal with the other guards yourself. Are you still willing?"
Mr. Kongkong's mouth fell open. He suddenly realized that Chen Guanlou was ruthless in his own way, just a cut above the other guards.
But the words had been spoken. If he backed out now, the terms would surely be harsher in the future. The man might refuse to deal with him altogether, or even team up with the other guards to make his life miserable.
Even if regret was gnawing at his heart, he clenched his jaw and affirmed heavily, "I'm willing!"
"Good! Since you're sincere, I'll do my best to look out for you. What is your unique secret manual?"
At the mention of his secret manual, Mr. Kongkong's spirits instantly lifted. "Little Brother Chen, what do you think a great thief like me relies on to roam the martial world?" This chapter is updated first at novelping dot com.
Brotherhood?
Definitely not.
Fame?
Even more ridiculous.
Chen Guanlou ventured a guess, "Sneaking in and picking locks?"
Mr. Kongkong looked at him with disdain. "That's for petty thieves. A great thief, a master thief like me, relies on Thousand Transformations. When I play a ghost, I look like a ghost; when I play a man, I look like a man."
"You mean the art of disguise!" Chen Guanlou was pleasantly surprised.
"Little Brother Chen is discerning. It is indeed the art of disguise. However, my version is a bit special. It doesn't rely on external objects, but on..."
As he spoke, Mr. Kongkong gave him a stunning live performance. His facial muscles and bones began to contort, twisting as if they were being torn apart—a truly gruesome sight. In an instant, the unremarkable thirty-something man transformed into a farmer in his early forties, his brow, eyes, and even his bone structure completely altered.
The transformation didn't last long. Mr. Kongkong quickly reverted to his original appearance, panting heavily. He was clearly exhausted.
He explained, "I'm injured. I'm not what I used to be."
"You rely on this art of disguise for your thefts?"
"People call us 'gentlemen on the rafters,' but I never do that. I always walk right into the victim's house through the front door."
"Did you walk through the main gate of the Princess Mansion too?"
"I disguised myself as one of the Princess Mansion's procurement managers and walked right in through the side gate," Mr. Kongkong said with great pride. None of his peers had ever reached his level. He was the master of his trade!
"And you still got caught," Chen Guanlou teased.
Mr. Kongkong's face stiffened. He argued defensively, "That was just bad luck. I ran into the real manager and was exposed on the spot."
"What's the name of this secret manual of yours?"
"It's just called Thousand Transformations. If Little Brother can master the internal art technique, you will discover its infinite wonders."
"I want this Thousand Transformations."