Chapter 72: The Provincial Capital Prison

There is no heaven in hell, just as there is no ray of sunlight in the prisons of the human world.

When Liaochen saw Mo Mo again, the man was already on the verge of death. Liaochen’s expression darkened, and he silently added a mark against the provincial governor in his heart. With such greed and cruelty, how could he not be doomed?

Liaochen carefully examined Mo Mo’s condition. Fortunately, it was merely a fever caused by an infected wound. In this era, such a thing would typically be left to fate, but in Liaochen’s hands, it was trivial. He turned to the head bailiff who had led him into the prison and commanded, "Find the jailer immediately and get me a clean quilt. Then, find two men to help carry him out. Prepare a litter and have it waiting just outside the prison gates. That is all; go do it now!"

With a wave of his hand, Liaochen dismissed the sweating head bailiff and stepped into the cell alone. After another careful assessment of Mo Mo’s injuries, he sighed, wondering if he himself were a jinx or if Mo Mo was simply born under an unlucky star to suffer such torment for no reason. Fortunately, he had arrived early; had he been a moment later, this grim prison would likely have claimed yet another soul wronged to death.

Liaochen produced a jade vial filled with spiritual water and a small blue-and-white porcelain bowl. After filling the bowl, he dissolved a talisman into it and forced the mixture down the unconscious Mo Mo’s throat. He then placed his palm against Mo Mo’s back, channeling his internal spiritual energy to circulate his blood and clear his meridians, ensuring the man would not suffer any lasting disabilities. The beating had been brutal; it seemed the intention had been to leave him no chance of survival at all. One wondered how many lives were stained upon the hands of that governor who had climbed the ranks to become the provincial chief.

Mo Mo’s condition was primarily due to the severity of his wounds combined with deep-seated resentment that had triggered his high fever. Being young, he had a strong constitution. Under Liaochen’s care, he soon stirred to consciousness. He opened his eyes, dazed, and seeing Liaochen, he froze for a moment as if struggling to recall something. Suddenly, he turned pale with shock. "Daoist Master, why have you been thrown into this prison? Did that corrupt official go to my home? Has my wife been arrested as well?"

Seeing Mo Mo’s agitation and fearing he would aggravate his wounds, Liaochen quickly explained, "Rest assured, your wife is safe; she has only gone to her parents' home. I was not arrested; I am here to take you out. As for that corrupt official, his days are numbered—you need not worry about him." Liaochen then pulled a bottle of medicine from his robes. "Apply this to your wounds yourself; it is not convenient for me to do so. Once applied, you should recover quickly. We will discuss everything else once we return." Liaochen stood up, pushed open the cell door, and began to walk out, observing the ancient prison as he went.

There were remarkably few prisoners left in the jail. This struck Liaochen as strange. He walked to a neighboring cell and asked an elderly inmate, "Excuse me, elder, may I ask why this prison seems so empty? Are there other jails?"

The old man, surprised that a Daoist who appeared to be a person of consequence would speak to him, gave a bitter laugh and sighed. "It is not that there are few people, but that few have survived. A plague has broken out here. Those who fell ill, or were near death—if there was even the slightest sign of sickness, they were dragged out and tossed into the mass grave. The lack of prisoners is simply because most are nearly dead." Having said this, the old man thought of his own plight and began to weep.

Liaochen realized the truth, gaining a new, grim perspective on the cruelty of ancient prisons. He asked, "Elder, what crime led to your imprisonment?"

"Crime? What crime could there be? I simply fell behind on my rent. The harvest was poor, and the taxes were heavy. After a year of toil, I had little grain left. My son fell gravely ill, and I had hoped to explain the situation to the landlord and ask for a grace period. Instead, those wolf-like bailiffs came for me. My wife died long ago, which was a mercy for her. I only wonder what has become of my son and daughter-in-law. This world offers no way for us to live..." The old man rambled on, his voice fading until he was left sobbing in silence.

Liaochen sighed. "Your son and his wife are safe, and you will be released soon, old man. Do not worry." Liaochen then left. There were many wronged people in this prison, but there were also many who were guilty. Liaochen was no judge and had no desire to interrogate them one by one. Everyone had their own fate, like fish in a drying river; Liaochen could save one or two, but he could not save the entire river. Helping the old man was a gesture of kindness, born of the fact that the man’s face lacked any sign of malice—he was clearly just an honest farmer.

When Liaochen returned, Mo Mo had already applied the ointment. The once-mangled flesh on his buttocks was scabbing over at a visible rate. While he could not yet walk freely, the pain had vanished, replaced by a cooling sensation. Mo Mo was stunned by the miracle of the medicine. When Liaochen entered, he immediately asked, "Daoist Master, what is this elixir? Its effect is so divine—it is surely the stuff of legends, capable of bringing the dead back to life and regrowing flesh on bones!"

Liaochen smiled but did not answer. After pondering for a moment, Mo Mo sighed. "I know you are no ordinary person, but this medicine is too precious. How can I, a mere student, ever repay such a debt?"

"Medicine is meant to be used, Master Mo. Why worry about such things? Your suffering was caused by your connection to me; this is merely my compensation." As Liaochen spoke, the head bailiff, accompanied by the jailer and two guards, arrived carrying a brand-new cotton quilt.

"Master, I have brought the jailer, a new quilt, and the litter is waiting outside. Does this meet your approval?" the head bailiff asked, his face full of obsequiousness.

"You have worked hard," Liaochen nodded. He turned to the jailer behind the bailiff and asked, "What was the crime of the old man in the next cell?"

The jailer paused, recalled the details, and replied, "I dare not deceive you, Master. He committed no crime, save for being accused of falling behind on rent. We never intended to do anything to him."

Liaochen nodded, confirming the old man had told the truth. "Release him as well. I will settle the matter of the rent."

The jailer dared not refuse. The old man was penniless, of no value, and guilty of no serious crime; releasing him was of no consequence. He turned to the guards and ordered, "Go and release that old man as well!"

The guards obeyed, and the sound of iron locks being opened echoed through the hall. The old man, realizing he had finally met a benefactor, kowtowed in endless gratitude. Liaochen walked over and handed him a bar of silver. "Go and pay your rent. A landlord like that is not worth serving; take this and start a small business." The old man was dazed as if in a dream, and the guards looked on with envy, though they dared not move.

As the old man departed in tears, the remaining prisoners, seeing the scene, began to cry out to Liaochen, begging him to rectify their own injustices. Liaochen ignored them. He had the guards carry Mo Mo out of the prison.

As he walked, Liaochen suddenly stopped in front of a brighter cell. Only one prisoner lived there, and Liaochen recognized him. Although the man was far more wretched than when they had first met, Liaochen recognized him instantly: he was the private secretary who had been conspiring with the provincial governor, Wei Shanwu. No matter what, this man, once the governor’s trusted confidant, could never have imagined he would end up in such a state.

"Bring that man along as well," Liaochen said, pointing to the half-dead secretary huddled in the corner.

"Ah... this..." The jailer was clearly troubled and looked toward the head bailiff, but the bailiff was merely a minor official and lacked the authority to decide.

"If your superiors ask, tell them I took him. If they have any issues, let them come to me." Liaochen spoke with finality. The jailer and the bailiff exchanged glances, then the jailer opened the door and hoisted the incapacitated secretary onto his back, and they all made their way out of the provincial prison.

Just as Liaochen was taking Mo Mo and the others home, on the border of Sichuan and Guizhou, a party of dozens of Eastern Depot agents, led by a eunuch in a four-clawed python robe, was galloping toward Guiyang on fine steeds. A hundred miles away, two other groups, each with their own escorts and guards, were also making their way toward the southwest.

"Eunuch Zhang, I hear there is a plague in Guizhou. Should we be careful? What if we contract the pestilence?" asked the leader of the Eastern Depot agents, leaning close to the eunuch.

"You little rascal, what is there to fear? Even if we do catch the plague, is the Protector of the Nation not there? We have been rushing day and night to help him with his troubles; do you think he will not save us? If we can earn his favor and join his school, even learning a single trick would be worth a lifetime of effort. Look at his eldest disciple—I hear she has only been with him for five or six years, and now who has not heard the name of the Immortal Lady Yunhua? This is true destiny!" Eunuch Zhang finished, gazing toward Guiyang with boundless fervor.