A person sacrifices himself to become a saint in a chaotic world of martial arts.

After completing all the formalities and meeting with the relevant leaders, Su Bai prepared to take up his new post.

An official in charge of personnel led him to the prison. This man, named Zhao Jinhong, was in his forties, short and stocky, with a perfectly timed smile always plastered on his round face. His position was roughly equivalent to a low-ranking official—he had spent most of his life working in the Fenjiang County government, and this was the position he had reached; there was absolutely no possibility of climbing any higher.

"Lord Su is truly a young man of great promise," Zhao Jinhong said, stepping aside to lead the way. His tone was warm and his small eyes gleamed with shrewdness. "At your age, you will surely rise higher and higher in the future. Don't forget to give me a hand when that happens."

As he spoke, he secretly glanced at the young man beside him out of the corner of his eye. The young man, barely in his early twenties, had already surpassed him; such success was truly enviable. He sighed inwardly. He had toiled in this government office for over twenty years, and in the end, he was less fortunate than this young upstart who had climbed the social ladder.

"Hehe, Lord Zhao flatters me," Su Bai smiled slightly, returning the greeting with a respectful bow. "It's all thanks to your appreciation, sir. I'm just fortunate to have caught your eye."

He knows the trick of carrying a sedan chair together with a flowery one.

Upon hearing this, Zhao Jinhong's smile became even more sincere, and he nodded repeatedly, his round face trembling slightly: "Lord Su is too modest, too modest."

As they talked, they arrived at the gate of the prison. The gatehouse, built of blue bricks, looked somewhat old, with a layer of dark green moss growing at the corners, damp and seemingly formed from the condensed yin energy seeping from the cracks in the bricks. The paint on the lintel was peeling and cracked, revealing the blackened wood beneath, exuding a sinister and murderous aura. Two stone lions crouched on either side of the gate, their faces blurred by wind and rain; one had half an ear missing, and the other had a corner chipped off its chin, yet they still glared with their round stone eyes, fiercely staring at everyone who entered or left. Su Bai was about to step over the high threshold when his gaze inadvertently swept over the area, and he suddenly stopped.

He saw an acquaintance—or rather, someone he had met once before.

Zhou Changqing.

The man was emerging from inside, dressed in a brand-new, dark gray official robe, his leather belt neatly cinched at the waist, and a pair of black-and-white official boots treading on the bluestone slabs. His gait was unhurried, yet carried an air of innate arrogance. Even his posture exuded a sense of superiority; his shoulders and back were ramrod straight, his chin slightly raised, as if the entire government office should bow to him.

Su Bai narrowed his eyes slightly, a barely perceptible glint of light flashing deep in his pupils.

He already knew some things. Zhou Changqing was at odds with Ning Yuechan, and naturally, he was also at odds with him. Meeting him here today, things likely wouldn't end well.

Zhou Changqing had obviously seen him too. He paused, then walked straight over, raising his chin even higher, a cryptic smile playing on his lips, a smile that carried a condescending scrutiny, as if he were looking at a bird that had brazenly wandered into its cage.

"Lord Zhou!"

Zhao Jinhong's eyes lit up, and he hurriedly took half a step forward. His round body was as agile as a ball, and his waist naturally bent into a shrimp shape. His round face was instantly filled with smiles, and even the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes were squeezed into several deep grooves. His fawning expression was almost overflowing from his face.

Zhou Changqing didn't even glance at him, only grunting in response, his gaze fixed on Su Bai as if trying to find some flaw in that young face.

"Reporting to Lord Zhou," Zhao Jinhong bowed and reported, fine beads of sweat glistening in the sunlight on his forehead, "this is Warden Su. I brought him here to take up his post and complete the handover procedures."

"Oh—" Zhou Changqing slowly shifted his gaze over, looking down at Su Bai's face, drawing out the last syllable with obvious mockery and disdain, "So it's Lord Su."

He sized Su Bai up and down, his gaze sweeping over him as if he were looking at something interesting, from head to toe and back again, finally settling on Su Bai's face. He said with a half-smile, "I, Zhou, am blind; I almost didn't recognize you. Isn't this the same Su the constable from last time? You've been promoted so quickly? Just as I thought..."

He paused, his smile deepening, tinged with undisguised sarcasm. He deliberately raised his voice so that the passing constables could hear him clearly: "Going through the back door makes all the difference."

These words were so blunt that Zhao Jinhong's smile froze. He lowered his eyes awkwardly, wishing he could shrink his head into his chest. He didn't know where to put his hands and could only unconsciously rub the hem of his clothes.

Su Bai remained unmoved, not even frowning. Instead, he smiled and calmly cupped his hands, saying, "Lord Zhou, you flatter me. Compared to you, Lord Zhou, who has already risen to the position of deputy commissioner at such a young age—this shows that Lord Zhou is a true young hero, and doesn't need to pull strings."

As soon as he finished speaking, Zhou Changqing's expression changed drastically, as if he had been slapped in public. The color drained from his face instantly and then surged back up, turning pale and then flushed.

Whether he used connections or not, he knew best in his heart. Almost all the credit, big and small, was practically handed to him; this petty affair was common knowledge in the government office. But no one dared to openly criticize him—after all, his father was the county magistrate, who would dare?

Unexpectedly, this lowly clerk who had only latched onto that damned woman Ning Yuechan dared to say such things to his face right in front of him.

Zhou Changqing's smile gradually faded, his lips twitched, and a sinister glint flashed in his eyes. His once handsome eyes now seemed to be coated with poison. He stared at Su Bai for a moment, his gaze seemingly trying to see through him. The surrounding air seemed to freeze, and even Zhao Jinhong subconsciously took a half step back.

Suddenly, he smiled again.

"Hehe," the laugh rolled out of his throat, low and cold, with an indescribable meaning, like a cat teasing a mouse. "You flatter me, Lord Su."

He took half a step forward, leaned closer, lowered his voice, and said, word by word, "Now that you've become the jailer, you'd better—do a good job."

The last few words were enunciated with extreme force, as if squeezed out from between his teeth, each word carrying a chilling edge. Having said that, without waiting for Su Bai's reply, he turned abruptly, flicked his sleeve, drawing an arc in the air, and vanished. His footsteps echoed crisply on the bluestone slabs, gradually fading into the shadows of the gatehouse.

Su Bai stood there, watching the receding figure, his brows twitching slightly, a thoughtful look flashing in his eyes.

He thought Zhou Changqing would lash out on the spot or say some harsh words, but he didn't expect him to just leave like that.

but……

There's more to this than meets the eye; things in prison might not be so simple. Zhou Changqing's last sentence was clearly implying something, and the meaning hidden in his eyes was definitely more than just a verbal threat.

But when he touched the brand-new prison guard's badge at his waist, the bronze surface still felt slightly cool from being freshly forged, the edges were smoothly polished, and the character "prison" was engraved on the front. He then secretly assessed his own abilities and felt reassured.

Even if there are some dangerous places inside, with his current strength, is he afraid he can't handle it?

"Lord Su..."

Beside him, Zhao Jinhong cautiously approached, a fawning smile plastered on his face, but a hint of sympathy, or perhaps anticipation of watching the spectacle, lurked in his eyes.

He rubbed his hands together, opened his mouth as if to say something but hesitated, and ultimately didn't dare to say anything more. He just secretly glanced at Su Bai's face with his small eyes.

Su Bai snapped out of her daze, glanced at him with a calm expression, her gaze as still as water, and said indifferently, "Let's go."

Having said that, he took the lead and walked towards the gloomy prison gate.

The threshold was high, about half a foot wide. As he stepped over it, a wave of cold, damp air hit him, carrying the smells of mildew and rust, along with a faint, almost imperceptible stench of decay, as if seeping up from the depths of the earth. The light dimmed at that moment, as if even the sunlight refused to shine into this place.

The Fenjiang County prison has five floors in total—three floors on top and two floors underground.

It is said that the two underground levels are the truly terrifying places.

As soon as I crossed that threshold, the light in front of me suddenly dimmed.

The interior of the prison was even more eerie than the exterior. A narrow passageway stretched forward, with an oil lamp hanging every few feet on the walls on both sides. The flames flickered in the cold wind that swept through the passage, casting shadows that were sometimes long and sometimes short.

The bluestone slabs underfoot were damp and slippery, with dark green moss growing in the cracks. The air was filled with a mixture of musty smells, the stench of urine, and an indescribable putrid odor, as if something had rotted in some unseen corner.

Zhao Jinhong followed behind Su Bai, his pace noticeably slowing. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, saying, "Lord Su, according to the rules, the handover procedures should first be given to the original jailer. However... that jailer has been unwell these past few days and has taken leave, saying that you should familiarize yourself with the situation first, and he will come to discuss it with you in detail later."

Su Bai didn't stop walking, only glancing at him sideways.

Zhao Jinhong felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze, chuckled twice, and continued, "There's also... the personnel allocation in this prison is somewhat complicated. Originally, there were two deputy wardens, one surnamed Li and the other surnamed Mao, both veterans. Warden Li was in charge of the top three levels, and Warden Mao was in charge of the bottom two levels. However, Warden Li is getting old and doesn't manage things much anymore. In fact, the entire prison is basically controlled by Warden Mao. Since you're new to the job, if you have any questions, you can ask him."

"Mm," Su Bai replied without asking any further questions.

Although there are many unreasonable aspects to this.

For example, isn't the jailer one of Ning Yuechan's people? Why did this situation suddenly occur? Did Ning Yuechan know about it? If she did know, how long ago did she find out, and why didn't she tell him? Or maybe she didn't know.

And that jailer surnamed Li—Ning Yuechan hadn't mentioned him, but since she said he wasn't in charge, he probably didn't have much power. The most important thing was to find a way to get rid of that guy surnamed Mao.

He kept these thoughts to himself, but remained outwardly calm, simply following Zhao Jinhong as they continued walking forward.

At the end of the passageway was an iron gate, locked. The iron bars, about the thickness of a thumb, were rusted, and several faded seals hung on the frame, their corners trembling slightly in the draft. Zhao Jinhong pulled a key from his waist—a palm-sized iron key with deep teeth. He inserted it into the lock and gave it a hard twist. The spring clicked, and the iron gate creaked open—the sound sharp and piercing, echoing in the silent passageway like some kind of warning.

Behind the door was another passageway, wider than the first, enough for three people to walk side by side. To the left were rows of cells, and behind the wooden bars, one could vaguely see huddled figures. The wood was blackened, covered with countless scratch marks left by fingernails, a horrifying sight. Some people heard the noise, raised their heads, revealing a pair of cloudy eyes, yellowish whites, and unfocused pupils. They stared blankly at Su Bai for a couple of moments, then lowered their heads again, as if they didn't even have the strength to look up. Others didn't even raise their heads, as if they had lost interest in any sound, simply huddled motionless in a corner, whether asleep or awake, it was unclear.

As Zhao Jinhong walked, he introduced the situation in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing something: "The top three floors hold minor offenders, petty thieves, brawlers, debtors, and maybe a few troublemakers. The really important ones are on the bottom two floors."

When he said "the two floors below," his voice was even lower, almost a whisper, and he subconsciously glanced down at his feet, his eyes filled with an inexplicable sense of apprehension.

Su Bai noticed these subtle changes in expression and asked calmly, "Who are the people imprisoned downstairs?"

"This..." Zhao Jinhong rubbed his hands together, the rough palms making a soft rustling sound. A troubled smile appeared on his face, and a complex light flashed in his small eyes. "Lord Su, it's not that I'm unwilling to tell you, it's just that... I don't know much about what's going on down there. It's always been Warden Mao who handles it personally, and no one else is allowed to ask. You'll know when you see him later."

Before he could finish speaking, a commotion suddenly broke out ahead.

Someone was shouting and cursing loudly, the voice rough and fierce, booming through the passageway: "I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget! I'll show you what's what today!"

The curses mingled with the clanging of chains dragging on the ground, and the dull thuds of wooden planks striking each other—once, twice, three times, each strike heavy and solid, making one's heart tighten. Su Bai looked up and saw several jailers gathered in a circle around the corner a dozen steps ahead, doing something he couldn't tell what they were doing. Through the gaps in the crowd, he could vaguely see a wooden stick being swung high and then brought down heavily. One of the burly men, with his back to them, was swinging that stick and smashing it hard against the ground.

The wooden stick fell with a dull thud, followed by a suppressed groan of pain—the sound as if someone had covered his mouth, muffled in his throat.

"Lord Mao!" Zhao Jinhong's expression changed, his small eyes widened, and he quickly took a few steps forward, shouting loudly, "Lord Mao, stop!"

Upon hearing this, the burly man turned around, revealing a dark face with thick eyebrows and large eyes. A tangled beard covered half of his face, making it almost impossible to discern his true features. His eyes held a hint of ferocity, like charcoal just pulled from a fire. He still held the wooden stick in his hand, about the thickness of his forearm, with a dark red substance dripping from its tip.

At his feet lay a disheveled man, his face obscured, dressed only in a filthy, blackened prison uniform, its original color indistinguishable. The man huddled in a ball, trembling like a wounded wild animal, a small pool of dark red blood spreading slowly across the stone slab beneath him.

"Oh, Lord Zhao?" The jailer grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, but made no attempt to bow. He even slung the blood-stained wooden stick over his shoulder and asked casually, "What brings you here?"

Zhao Jinhong quickly stepped forward, leaned close to his ear and whispered a few words. As his lips moved, he turned back and pointed towards Su Bai, his face showing extreme caution.

Mao Chenggong's gaze passed over him and landed on Su Bai. His gaze swept over him from top to bottom and then from bottom to top, scrutinizing him carefully, as if assessing the quality of a newly arrived item. The disdain in his eyes was undisguised, and there was even a hint of amusement on his lips.

"Oh—" he drawled, tossing the stick aside with a dull thud. It rolled twice on the ground, leaving a dark red mark. He strode over, his boots clattering on the flagstones. He stopped three steps away from Su Bai, clasped his hands in a perfunctory gesture, and merely touched Su Bai's shoulder with his fingers.

"So it's the new jailer, Su," he grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "I've heard so much about you."

Su Bai looked at him but didn't speak immediately.

The man reeked of alcohol, a mixture of sweat and blood, making one wince. His soapy robe was wrinkled, with a few dark stains on the front, whether alcohol or blood, it was hard to tell. His gaze swept over himself, from his face to the brand-new prison guard's badge at his waist, then back again, with undisguised scrutiny and disdain.

Su Bai's gaze passed over him, glancing at the trembling figure on the ground. The person was curled up in a ball, holding their head in their hands, their shoulder blades heaving with each sob, and the bloodstains beneath them had spread out again.

"What's going on?" Su Bai's voice wasn't loud, but it was clearly audible in the narrow passageway.

"Oh, that one," Ma Chenggong glanced back, waved his hand dismissively as if shooing away a fly, "a disobedient prisoner who tried to escape, got caught by the brothers, and was taught a lesson. These kinds of things happen often in the prison. Warden Su just arrived, and he'll get used to it."

As he spoke, he took another half step closer to Su Bai, his mouth, reeking of alcohol, almost touching Su Bai's ear. He lowered his voice, his tone playful, and said, "Sir Su, you've reached this position at such a young age; you must have some skills. From now on, if there's anything you don't understand in this prison, feel free to ask me. This place is not like the outside world; the waters run deep here."