In the Ming Dynasty, I became invincible simply by extracting memories!

Shen Lian knew exactly what was going on.

My only advantage—the memories of my past papers and the intelligence I gleaned from Wei Liangbi—won't last more than a few days.

Information asymmetry is like that bowl of braised pork in prison—it tastes delicious, but there are only a few pieces. Once you've eaten them all, that's it.

To survive in the Embroidered Uniform Guard's territory, to counter Zhu Xixiao, and to control Wei Liangbi, one had to dig deeper and get in touch with the core personnel.

His first target was the man in cell number T—the accountant, Qian Dehou.

His intuition told him that Qian Dehou's mind was not only locked with evidence of Yan's party's collusion with Japanese pirates, but also with the private treasury of Yan's party in some corner of the world.

Who has the Yan family's account books? In Mr. Qian's mind.

Who in the Yan faction colluded with the court, how much they embezzled, and how they traded with the Japanese pirates—all these crucial secrets were locked in the mouth of this one-legged accountant. He was the Achilles' heel of the entire scheme; whoever pried open his mouth held the Yan faction's Achilles' heel.

Shen Lian found an excuse to go see Wei Liangbi.

"Lord Wei," he said in a nonchalant tone, "that memorial from Zou Yinglong will implicate quite a few people. As for Qian Dehou, I'd like to help you keep an eye on things and dig out as much information as possible to avoid any mishaps later."

Upon hearing this, Wei Liangbi's eyes lit up.

That's great! Shen Lian is resourceful and has intelligence; if he can really get Qian Dehou to talk, it will be another achievement for him. He was about to nod in agreement on the spot.

But as he opened his mouth halfway, a "buzz" went through his mind, and the scene in the signing room a few days ago flashed before his eyes.

Chen, holding his teacup, spoke softly, yet each word felt like a nail piercing Wei's heart: "Lord Wei, the Commander promoted you because he values ​​your talent. But in this prison, rules are rules. Who is Qian Dehou? A wanted criminal of the Yan faction. You use him as a pretext to frighten a mere scholar—what kind of talk will that make? If someone with ulterior motives reports this to the Emperor, accusing you, Wei Liangbi, of colluding with the prison and leaking information—can you bear that charge?"

Wei Liangbi broke out in a cold sweat at that moment.

Now that Shen Lian brought up Qian Dehou again, how could he dare to respond?

"Mr. Shen," he quickly put on a smiling face, his tone as soft as freshly cooked glutinous rice cake, "this matter is too big, it's beyond my authority. We should first report to Commander Zhu Xixiao, the highest-ranking official."

Shen Lian's face immediately turned cold.

"If Lord Wei doesn't trust me, then forget it."

He turned to leave.

Report to Zhu Xixiao? Are you kidding me? Once it reaches the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, there will be layers of approval and numerous checkpoints. Forget about contacting Qian Dehou; you won't even be able to get a glimpse of his cell. Worse still—it would alert him. Zhu Xixiao, that shrewd man, would immediately start wondering: Why is Shen Lian targeting Qian Dehou? How much does he actually know?

Wei Liangbi panicked and quickly stepped forward to stop him, bowing and smiling apologetically: "Mr. Shen, Mr. Shen, please don't take offense! Please don't take offense! It's really due to limitations of authority and duty. Please forgive me! We have a long road ahead of us to cooperate!"

Shen Lian gave him a cold glance.

"Lord Wei's words are well said. However, although I am currently in the imperial prison, I am still serving the court. If I am constantly constrained, even interrogating a prisoner requires reporting through multiple levels—then how can we even begin to discuss cooperation, Lord Wei?"

Wei Liangbi's face stiffened, and he said awkwardly, "Mr. Shen, you flatter me. It's really... alas, you don't know, but the commander's advisor Chen just gave me a warning a few days ago, saying that I was too casual in the Qian Dehou matter. My position is also very precarious. Mr. Shen is very talented, and he will surely understand my difficulties."

Shen Lian's face was ashen, his expression clearly showing his displeasure at being suspected. He gave a cold shake of his hand, indicating that he was too lazy to say anything more and didn't want to get involved, and then turned and left.

But as he turned around, a cold glint flashed in his eyes.

The obvious path is blocked.

Then there's no other option but for an "accident" to happen.

Fang Xuejian had met Qian Dehou before and roughly knew the location of cell number T. This was the first step.

— He needed to find a plausible excuse to "wander around" in the imperial prison.

That day, the opportunity came.

Upon seeing Zhou Kui, the centurion guarding him, Shen Lian said calmly, "I've been in the imperial prison for so long, and I haven't even had a chance to look around. Now, in terms of status, I'm a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. After being imprisoned for four months, it's not unreasonable for me to walk around and see the sights, is it?"

Zhou Kui opened his mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed his words back.

I couldn't refuse.

Who is Shen Lian now? He's someone highly regarded by Zhu Xixiao, Wang Chong, and Wei Liangbi. A mere centurion like him can't stop him. He can only accompany him.

The two walked through the passageway one after the other.

The corridors of the imperial prison were narrow and long, with cells on either side resembling upright coffins, dark and damp. The torchlight cast flickering shadows on the stone walls, and the air was thick with the smells of mildew, blood, and an indescribable stench of decay—the smell of festering wounds. Occasionally, the groans of prisoners could be heard, along with the ear-piercing sound of chains dragging on the ground, like the wails of ghosts rising from the depths of the earth.

As Zhou Kui walked, he observed Shen Lian's expression and tentatively said, "Mr. Shen, this prison is filthy; there's nothing to see. If you want to clear your mind, why don't you take a walk in the courtyard?"

Shen Lian waved his hand, his tone indifferent: "It's alright. I just want to see what kind of place this Northern Garrison's prison really is."

He remained outwardly calm, but his feet seemed to be intentionally or unintentionally moving towards cell number T.

Just as I reached the corner—

Several jailers dragged a person past hurriedly.

Shen Lian's gaze sharpened.

Qian Dehou.

The man was being dragged along like a rag doll, with his arms held by two jailers and his legs dragged on the ground.

The jailers whispered amongst themselves, their voices not loud, but clearly audible in the corridor:

"That old accountant is really stubborn. Even with his legs broken and all the torture he endured, he still couldn't utter a single important word."

"What a pity. No matter how tough he is, he can't withstand the methods of the imperial prison. If he had held on for a few more days, he would have been gone."

"How could that be? Lord Zhao knows his own strength. He'll recover in a few days, but he'll definitely be crippled."

Qian Dehou was on the verge of death, his head drooping, his breath as weak as a thread that might break at any moment.

Shen Lian was still wondering how to touch him.

At that very moment—

Qian Dehou suddenly opened his eyes.

His eyes, bloodshot and murky like two pools of muddy water, suddenly revealed a final glimmer of clarity. He roared, as if using the last of his strength:

"I'm innocent! I'm innocent! I'm innocent!"

The sound echoed in the corridor, sounding eerie.

Don't miss out.

Shen Lian's heart skipped a beat, and he stepped forward instinctively, reaching out to help—

He grasped Qian Dehou's hand.

In that instant, the ability to extract memories was activated.

Qian Dehou's last consciousness and deepest secrets, like a flood bursting its banks, surged wildly into Shen Lian's sea of ​​consciousness.

The images flashed by rapidly, like a carousel.

It was the twenty-fifth year of the Jiajing reign. In a cramped accounting room in Suzhou, Qian Dehou, in his early thirties, was bent over his desk, meticulously calculating salt tax accounts, the abacus clattering loudly. He had prepared an extremely detailed account, which caught the eye of Yan Shifan's steward, who then recruited him into the household. At that time, he was skilled in mathematics and cautious, and quickly distinguished himself in Yan's accounting room.

In the twenty-ninth year of the Jiajing reign (1550), Yan Song celebrated his seventieth birthday. Qian Dehou privately presented him with a meticulously prepared "Ten-Year Income and Expenditure Ledger," meticulously detailing all of Yan Song's faction's illicit income from the nineteenth year of the Jiajing reign to the twenty-ninth—salt taxes, customs duties, the sale of official positions, and local tributes—leaving no detail unaccounted for. Yan Shifan was overjoyed and immediately appointed him as the chief accountant of the Yan household.

From that day on, he gained access to the most core secrets of the Yan Party.

Deep in my memory, a scene from late at night suddenly surfaced—

Yan Shifan gripped Qian Dehou's hand tightly, his tone both sinister and deliberately feigned warmth:

"Mr. Qian, my father and I have treated you with immense kindness for over a decade. We have taken excellent care of your wife, children, and elderly parents. This account book concerns your very life and fortune; you must guard it at all costs and not divulge a single word of it!"

In the video, Yan Shifan's eyes stared at you like a venomous snake, and his voice was kept extremely low:

"Remember, this ledger is divided into three parts—the first is the official revenue ledger, which records every single transaction of who in the court accepted bribes and who sold official positions. The second is the military revenue ledger, which records where the military funds for the anti-Japanese pirate campaign in the southeast went. And the third…"

He paused, his voice lowering even further, almost squeezed out through clenched teeth:

"It's a Japanese camp."

"And the private treasury of Zuixianlou, no one can say anything about it, not even Grand Secretary Yan."

Qian Dehou knelt on the ground, trembling all over, his forehead pressed against the cold floor tiles: "Young Grand Secretary, rest assured, even if I die, I will never utter a single word."

Yan Shifan bent down, patted his shoulder, and his tone suddenly softened:

"Mr. Qian, we are family, and I trust you. Your wife and children are in Suzhou, and I have already arranged for someone to take care of them. Your youngest son, Qizhi, is only six years old this year, right? He has a good talent for studying, and I have already hired Mr. Wang to be his tutor. In the future, if he takes the imperial examination and enters officialdom, my Yan family will guarantee him a bright future."

Memories jump again.

It was a rainy night in the thirty-fourth year of the Jiajing reign.

Yan Shifan summoned Qian Dehou to a secret room. The candlelight flickered, casting dappled shadows on the walls like countless writhing snakes. A map of the southeastern coast's defenses hung on the wall. Yan Shifan pointed to several red circles marked on the map, his tone chilling:

"Mr. Qian, do you know what these red circles mean?"

Qian Dehou shook his head.

Yan Shifan sneered: "This is the supply point for Wang Zhi's gang of pirates. Every month, the grain, medicine, and ironware that we send out are transported to these places by sea, and what we bring back is silver, Japanese swords, and spices from Southeast Asia."

He stared into Qian Dehou's eyes, speaking each word clearly:

"You'll keep track of this debt too. But we can only use code words."

Qian Dehou's face turned deathly pale, and his voice trembled: "Young Grand Secretary, this...this is a crime punishable by confiscation of property and extermination of the entire clan! Even though the household's finances are considerable, we really shouldn't risk such a death sentence..."

Before he could finish speaking, Yan Shifan grabbed him by the collar.

The face drew close to Qian Dehou's nose, and each word pierced his heart like a poisonous thorn:

"You know nothing! You better remember this. If this happens, remember this: you can admit to embezzlement; but you absolutely cannot utter a single word about colluding with the Japanese! This is the bottom line, the lifeline for your entire family!"

These extremely hidden memories, buried deep in Qian Dehou's heart, are his only support in getting through this long.

At this moment, everything was forcibly exposed by Shen Lian, leaving nothing out.

Deep in my memory, there is still a scene—

Yan Shifan leaned back in his armchair, toying with a jade thumb ring in his hand, and sneered at Qian Dehou:

"How could His Majesty not know that I, Yan Shifan, am embezzling money? The reason I have been so tolerant is that I, Yan Shifan, can bring money to the court and stabilize the overall situation. Those upright officials can only stand around talking and spouting empty morals; they have no ability to govern the country whatsoever. What I do is not corruption; it is to share the Emperor's burdens and solve his problems."

Shen Lian's heart skipped a beat.

It turned out to be the case.

Suddenly, another vague memory surged up.

The footage must have been from a few days ago. Qian Dehou's eyes were bloodshot, and he was in a daze when the cell door was suddenly kicked open.

A jailer hurried forward—Jailer Sun. He limped forward, quietly wiping Qian Dehou's wounds, and whispered:

"Mr. Qian, the young Grand Secretary is trying to save you. You must hold on! I'll be there to help you in prison, don't worry."

The scene then changes.

Zhao Yan entered the cell with a forced smile, a smile that made people feel uncomfortable.

"Mr. Qian, as long as you reveal Lin Yiqing's whereabouts and hand over Yan Shifan's general ledger, Grand Secretary Xu will guarantee your safety, and I, Zhao, will also ensure your well-being. Being in a position of power, I have used some methods; please forgive me."

A weasel offering New Year's greetings to a chicken has ulterior motives.

Immediately afterwards, Wei Liangbi appeared with a sinister expression.

The face was distorted in the torchlight, and the tone was as cold and sharp as a knife:

"Qian Dehou, you have to confess, whether you like it or not! Once you're in my Northern Garrison Prison, don't even think about leaving alive!"

He not only pressed for evidence of collusion with Japanese pirates and embezzlement, but also focused intently on one sentence:

Do you know Shen Lian?

In his dazed state, Qian Dehou only managed a mumbled reply: "Who is Shen Lian?"

Wei Liangbi's words were cold and deliberate, each syllable spoken with deliberation:

"Shen Lian, a scholar from Southern Zhili. I suspect he's Yan Shifan's mole, aiding and abetting his evil deeds. Is he your accomplice? Are you on the same side?"

They were actually trying to use this opportunity to drag Shen Lianyi down with them, confirming that he was a member of Yan Song's faction!

Shen Lian quickly sorted through these fragments of memory, and a chill ran through him.

It was truly a perilous journey.

Within the imperial prison, undercurrents surged—Wei Liangbi was investigating him, Zhao Yan was pressuring Qian Dehou, the prison guard Sun was secretly protecting him, and the factions of Xu Jie and Yan Song took turns appearing on the scene, one after another. Every step was fraught with danger; one wrong step would lead to utter ruin.

Shen Lian slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.

The hand in my hand was already cold.

Qian Dehou was still clinging to a faint breath, his chest barely rising and falling. Shen Lian slowly released his grip, stood up, and looked calmly at the pennant with a pitying gaze.

Zhou Kui stepped forward, frowning, and said, "Mr. Shen, this man is already crippled..."

Shen Lian shook his head, his voice low: "Yes. Our bodies and hair are given to us by our parents. It's truly pitiful and lamentable that we've fallen to such a state. He was just crying out for justice, and I was merely acting on instinct to help him up."

Zhou Kui, without suspecting anything, ordered the jailers to drag the man away and said to Shen Lian, "Mr. Shen, this place is unlucky, let's go back."

Shen Lian nodded, then turned and followed Zhou Kui back.

His footsteps thudded on the damp stone slabs of the prison. His mind, however, was rapidly replaying the memories he had just acquired—account books, lists, codes, transactions, Japanese pirates, military pay… A vast and intricate web was slowly unfolding in his mind.

Back in the cell.

The books, food, and clothing that Wei Liangbi had sent were still on the table, and the Longjing tea in the teapot was still warm. Fang Xuejian was engrossed in reading a copy of "Tiangong Kaiwu" (The Exploitation of the Works of Nature), muttering to himself with anticipation, "Lord Wei treats us so well; our treatment in the future will probably only get better and better."

Upon hearing this, Shen Lian's heart sank.

He stepped forward with a cold face, showing no mercy to Fang Xuejian, and said in a deep voice, "Shut up. This prison is fraught with danger, every step is a knife, every place is a trap, and you still harbor such naive thoughts? Who is good and who is bad, how can you see that now?"

Fang Xuejian was taken aback by the retort. He opened his mouth but didn't know how to refute it. He could only lower his head and mutter, "Okay, okay, you're right. I'll listen to you... Are you out of your mind? I was just working on my book and didn't bother you."

Looking at his innocent appearance, Shen Lian felt a mix of emotions.

Fang Xuejian possessed a pure and clear mind. Even imprisoned, he still held fast to his passions and purity. Yet, the clarity in his eyes concealed an unusual shrewdness—far beyond the pedantry of ordinary scholars. However, such a mind was all too easily crushed in the treacherous court and the covert struggles of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

He made up his mind.

If there is an opportunity in the future, I will definitely protect Fang Xuejian and help him get out of this quagmire of political struggle, and send him to a place where he can study art in peace.

The prison was silent.

Shen Lian thought of Qian Dehou's plight again. That poor man, who had been relentlessly exploited and thoroughly brainwashed by Yan Shifan, was now a cripple, and it was uncertain whether he could survive this ordeal. Was there anyone willing to lend a helping hand?

And the identity of the jailer, Sun—just thinking about it sends chills down my spine. When I retrieved his memories, I only vaguely saw some figures walking in the dark, nothing particularly special. Now it seems, it was clearly a hidden thread.

One thing after another lingered in my mind.

Shen Lian rubbed his temples, suppressing his surging emotions, and began to silently sort through the intelligence that the Embroidered Uniform Guard currently possessed.

Wei Liangbi and Zhao Yan have clear positions.

The jailer Sun initially thought he had been peeking at the files for Xu Jie's sake, but it turned out he was also involved with Yan's faction, which was also suspicious. Only the centurion Zhou Kui's allegiance remained a mystery.

Shen Lian stared at the damp stone walls of the imperial prison, where water droplets seeping from the cracks shimmered eerily in the firelight.

A wave of weariness washed over me.

In my dream, the endless sounds of swords flashing and shadows, along with the undercurrents deep within people's hearts, seemed to echo once more.