Chapter 80: The Prison

Zhang Tianbao struggled to open his eyes, his face swollen like a pig’s head, barely managing to squint through the bruised slits. He’d been beaten soundly when the soldiers caught him in the street, and again upon reaching the yamen. Though his body was sturdy as an ironclad arhat, he was no true arhat; those men had struck ruthlessly, though at least they’d spared his bones and tendons. Superficial wounds were of little concern to him.

A lone blue lantern hung at the door, its glow like a firefly—useless for anything but a shred of comfort. Fortunately, high up on the wall was a ventilation hole, the size of a human head, barred with iron as thick as a child’s arm. Through it, a shaft of sunlight, pure and holy, pierced like a sword, illuminating several leering, vile faces.

Prison was never a place for the righteous, least of all a lowly cell such as this. The floor was strewn with straw of indeterminate age; rats scurried about fearlessly, and beside him stood a bucket, foul enough to sear the nostrils. Around his neck hung a massive cangue, chained to the bars so tightly that even the smallest movement was a torment.

He was a murderer, a felon bound hand and foot. The shackles bit deep into his flesh, the wounds raw and inverted, a grim and ghastly sight.

The only small mercy was the cold weather, which had chased away most of the flies. Had it been warmer, the wounds would be swarming with maggots. No matter how strong a man, sepsis would have claimed him without pity.

A wretched fellow swaggered over, loosened his waistband, and relieved himself without restraint. The bucket, long unemptied, splashed urine over Zhang Tianbao’s face. The cangue weighed over a hundred pounds; even if he’d wanted to dodge, he could not.

“Well, well, you’re awake, boy? Not a bad flavor, is it, my overnight piss?” the man sneered, yellow teeth bared. “Heard you killed Rolling Dragon—quite the feat!”

Zhang Tianbao spat blood and saliva, eyeing the man coldly. “Mock me all you want. Sooner or later, I’ll smash every tooth in your mouth.”

A sharp slap landed on his face, splitting a scab open so that blood welled instantly, glowing eerily under the mingled light.

“Spit all you like! Feels good, doesn’t it? Must be the same technique you practiced with your old lady,” Zhang Tianbao retorted, spitting again. He tried to glare, but his swollen eyes were just narrow slits.

“You’ve got some guts, I’ll give you that. Listen up, I’m Rolling Dragon’s sworn brother. I came in here just to teach you a lesson—let’s see how you like having your eyes gouged out!”

The furious man lunged, fingers poised like claws, aiming for Zhang Tianbao’s eyes. But just as he drew close, Zhang Tianbao moved—his head lunged like a savage bull terrier, jaws clamping down on two outstretched fingers. With the cangue on, he was limited, but not helpless.

A terrible scream echoed through the prison. Those itching for a fight recoiled, seeing Zhang Tianbao chewing the fingers, bloodied mouth twisted into a ghastly grin. The crunch of bone was chilling, and he looked every bit a demon sprung from hell.

“Are you all dead? Kill him for me! Tear him apart!” Rolling Dragon’s brother howled, writhing in agony on the floor.

“What’s all this racket? Drilling Leopard, pipe down,” the cell boss suddenly appeared, a seven- or eight-year-old boy standing behind him, carrying a large food box.

With a clatter of chains, the cell boss unlocked the door and entered.

“Head Warden, can you remove his cangue?” The child glanced at Zhang Tianbao, smiling as he pressed a pouch of copper coins into the boss’s hand.

“Young sir, that’s not the rule. He’s a murderer—the higher-ups…” The cell boss didn’t refuse outright, but made no move to release the cangue.

“Head Warden, I came with orders from above. I may be young, but I know this: ‘Leave room for maneuver—who knows when paths may cross again.’ To be frank, I’m a physician from the Tang Duke’s household. I cured the Duke’s illness and the Second Young Master’s wounds. If your family ever falls ill, seek me out. If it’s within my power, I’ll see them well again. What’s more useful in life than the friendship of a doctor?

I know the higher-ups have given orders on this case, and I won’t make things hard for you. Perhaps in a day or two, there’ll be new instructions. I’ll say no more—you understand, don’t you? If I have to spell it out, it loses all meaning.”

“Oh! So you’re the famed physician—my apologies, I didn’t recognize you,” the cell boss exclaimed. “As for removing the cangue, that’s up to my superiors… but since you’ve put it this way, I’ll take the risk. My mother’s health hasn’t been good these years—she has a lingering ailment…”

“That’s easily arranged. After your shift, bring her to Zhang’s Apothecary. Divine Healer Zhang and I will tend to her together. How does that sound?”

“I’ve sought out Divine Healer Zhang several times, but he’s always too busy. If both of you could…”

Yun Hao had no patience for further pleasantries; the stench in the cell was enough to make his head reel. The fact he hadn’t vomited already was a testament to his endurance. With a polite smile, he gestured to Zhang Tianbao. The boss understood at once, unlocked the shackles, and called two inmates to help remove the heavy cangue. Watching them struggle with its weight, Yun Hao marveled that Zhang Tianbao had worn it for a day and a night.

Once freed, Zhang Tianbao sprang to his feet and landed a solid punch on Drilling Leopard’s face, knocking him out cold. Several yellowed teeth flew across the cell.

“Guards!” the boss was about to call for help, but Yun Hao stopped him. “Head Warden, please move the other prisoners elsewhere. I wish to speak with him alone.”

“But young sir, this man is a murderer. You…”

“Rest assured, he won’t harm me, nor will he cause you any further trouble. I take full responsibility.”