Chapter 615: I Am Wronged (5)

There are many ways to shut a person up, but none beats an offer.

The dumpling-eared prisoner was no exception.

“Wh—what. What. You’re telling me to give you—”

“Or don’t talk. I’ll just cheerfully rat you out and I lose nothing.”

What would Qing have to lose?

But the dumpling-eared prisoner did.

Why was this bastard posturing so hard?

What did he think would happen if he actually informed on the fact her door was open?

Still, she’d only been in the Repentance Hall not even a day; maybe she still had leisure.

Maybe her life as a martial artist felt over and she’d given up.

Or, with her arts gone, maybe she figured nothing good awaited outside anyway.

Anyone who ends up in the Repentance Hall—how few grudges would he have piled up?

“What do you want?”

“No. I said ‘make an offer.’ Is it acceptable to be this unethical? Or do you not know what ‘offer’ means?”

“A-hem. Then. Th—the holiday special today—yes, fine, I’ll give up even the dinner special.”

The man’s face was the very picture of grim resolve.

From his look and tone, the words “I’ll cede my lunch and dinner specials” landed like a vow to accept some grand sacrifice.

Like Makya leaping into molten iron to perfect a divine sword, or a commander staying behind with the detonator to save the unit.

Why would you say “I’ll give you food” like that?

As if offering up a life.

Granted, food is serious business, but to this degree?

But the prisoners didn’t think like Qing.

Gasp. “The special...!”

“What is it, U-gaya—did she catch you by the short hairs?”

“What is it, are you going to show her your naked body? No—what would a eunuch even do with a woman’s naked body that’s worth paying a special? Thing doesn’t even stand. Kee-hick!”

They were aghast—“unbelievable, but!”—and so on.

For the Repentance Hall’s prisoners, meals were the only remaining pleasure in life, and a special was a treasure that came only a few times a year—long awaited all year round.

One line snagged Qing’s ear.

“Hold up—eunuch?”

“Why pretend not to know—no, right, a woman has nothing to remove. Heh heh...”

Word was, they shattered the core, cut the meridians, and castrated them as well.

Figures. No wonder they all acted so mild.

The Kunlun Daoists really did have it hard.

Jail the inmates, feed them—and on top of that, castrate them for you?

“Mm. So they took the pillar or took the eggs—no, they took the eggs, that’s why you’re docile. Then the pillar they left—no. Who cares. Fine. You eat your special and just talk. What did you do to end up a eunuch locked in the Repentance Hall?”

But once the chatter burst, it didn’t stop.

Back in Qing’s hometown they call this “local broadcast”—a stream of info that never stops.

“Heh heh. Your pillar’s safe. If you touch that, they kill you on the spot or something. But really, you still care about that here? You must be a woman crazy for men. Is that so important?”

“Any man who blows out his inner energy for one thrust is a moron. A guy like that deserves what he gets.”

“This bastard went around ramming women and got caught; now he’s a eunuch and he’s running his mouth.”

Mm. Maybe they chatter more because they’re eunuchs.

Anyway—

Qing tuned them out and looked at the dumpling-eared man.

He hummed in his throat, then said:

“I am wronged.”

Qing looked at the man’s evil karma.

Naturally, it was blood-red.

Master Danlun had said it already: there’s an Investigation Wing where they probe guilt for up to five years.

If after five whole years they still can’t decide, they just release you.

Which means anyone who makes it to the Repentance Hall is the real dog—already vetted.

“Wronged? Why? Framed?”

“I only wanted to live. I couldn’t meekly let myself be caught and killed, so I resisted. Is it a crime for a martial artist to protect himself?”

“There he goes again. Normally, even if you take out a minor martial office, you don’t rip out the root by slaughtering children.”

A prisoner snorted and supplied detail.

Qing looked back at the dumpling-eared man.

“I didn’t want to either, but I had no choice. Leave them alive because they’re small? When he grows up and comes to avenge, should I just take a knife and die? You pull the root—that’s obvious.”

“I can kind of see it.”

“Right? You can understand.”

“Is it just the kid? If he’s got close friends, they might come for revenge too. Leave the friends?”

“Of course you don’t leave them. The ones who tried to stop me, the ones who glared—took them all apart. Root and branch.”

“They had families too. To leave no witnesses, you’d have to beat the whole town to death.”

“Ah, fuck. I was alone; they swarmed me. Cowardly shits.”

He ground his teeth.

“How did the quarrel start in the first place?”

“Hmph. It wasn’t anything big. I was leaving quietly when those bastards picked a fight. I merely answered in kind.”

Here the “commentator” chimed in again:

“He tried to skip the bill and run, and he one-punched the local martial-office head’s son who happened to be there.”

“I swear on my life, I didn’t mean to kill him. How was I supposed to know he was that weak? If you draw steel, you should be ready to get stuck—you shameful idiots, mobbing a one-on-one between martial artists.”

In short:

He tried to dine-and-dash; the local orthodox martial office at the inn intervened.

If you’re petty enough to steal a meal, would you sit still? Of course his knife or fist flew first.

He killed the martial head’s son; naturally the office went berserk and charged.

He killed them all, then, fearing consequence, he killed the family, then the friends; then more families needed killing.

Repeat that and every sect in town draws steel and hunts you.

Result: his core smashed, the meridians of his limbs cut, his balls taken, and permanent isolation in Kunlun’s Repentance Hall.

Qing blinked slowly.

Mm. A first-rate son of a bitch.

Where exactly is the “wronged” part?

Of course, she didn’t bother to soothe her curiosity.

“No, shit—what’s ‘wronged’ about it?”

“Fuck! It was three silver. Three! If you draw for that pissant sum, be ready to die! He jumped me first—what was I supposed to do? Lie down and die!?”

“You wrecked your life trying to save three lousy silver and you’re ‘wronged.’”

“If you don’t know, shut the fuck up! They served me trash a dog had half-eaten; I should’ve been paid to choke it down—and three silver? Think people are pigs? What a dogshit thing to say!”

“Hngh. You didn’t know your place and ordered an expensive dish—that’s how you got here.”

“What, you think just because you’re talking, it’s worth hearing?”

“What a bargain-bin life. Core, one silver. Meridians, one silver. Balls, half a silver each—three silvers in all. If you’d been caught stealing three hundred gold ingots, maybe. But three silvers and you ended up a cripple and you’re ‘wronged’? If it were me, I’d bite my tongue and die from shame. Don’t you all agree?”

“True! Preach that shit!”

“You fucking idiot!”

Laughter burst through the Repentance Hall.

The dumpling-eared man flushed crimson and trembled, glaring at Qing.

“What? What happens if you glare? Here—look at me being generous. I’ll stand right here; hit me till you vent it all. Be a man and smack away. Don’t tell me you’re such a pussy you can’t swing even when I offer my cheek.”

“Heh heh, this one’s a piece of work.”

“To get into the Repentance Hall, you need at least this much, damn right!”

Left and right they wheezed with laughter till they couldn’t breathe.

The dumpling-eared man gave her a look brimming with hate, like just wait.

So what?

No core, severed meridians—glaring or even with a knife in hand, Qing had zero reason to fear.

A gun might be a little scary.

BANG BANG!!

A harsh pounding on the iron plates.

The jeering prisoners snapped their mouths shut like nothing had happened.

—“Do you want to starve on New Year’s Day? I was going to let it slide—it’s an auspicious day—but you’re getting too merry.”

Master Danlun’s voice.

In Qing’s opinion, threatening with food is petty and low.

But it works instantly.

Silence held for a while; Qing, the fun gone, slipped back to the bed and circulated the All-Forms-as-One Inner Art.

Who knows how long passed.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed—yes, not lying down, extraordinary feat—Qing sniffed.

What is that—fragrant, delicious?

As expected, the sound of a door and the small sugary squeak of little wheels drew close.

Food—meal time!

Qing pressed up to the bars and looked toward the entrance; every prisoner mirrored her, hands clamped on iron.

“Since it’s New Year, dumplings and steamed chicken. Don’t bother tossing the bones; hand them back as is.”

Master Danlun placed bowls through the low feeding slot, set a whole chicken, and heaped dumplings in—one big grip, another—tossed on.

Qing took a look. Huh? Surprisingly generous fare, wasn’t it?

On the upper shelf of the food cart—very like the one from her hometown—a massive basin piled with chickens, another mounded with dumplings.

On the lower shelf, countless covered dishes.

“Excuse me, sir. Those covered ones...”

“Not yours. Don’t concern yourself.”

Master Danlun’s blunt reply.

By Qing’s read—having become accidental spell-buddy with him—it wasn’t coldness; the man was simply built like that.

Then the cart stopped before Qing’s cell.

“Sir Daoist.”

The dumpling-eared man called to Master Danlun.

Danlun stared at him blankly.

“What is it?”

“Well. Kh-h-heh...”

And then he looked at Qing and smiled lewdly.

“Hey, woman. Don’t you have something to say to me?”

“Ah. That’s how you want to play? Ooh.”

Looked like: Apologize—or I’ll tell.

Threats only work on people they work on.

Qing smiled back, then—with pretty eyes smiling through the eye-holes of her cheerful face cover—turned to Master Danlun.

“Daoist. You left without locking my door earlier. My door’s open right now. Like this—it just swings.”

She opened and shut the barred door; then, impishly, opened and shut it again.

The dumpling-eared man’s face—pure shock.

And when she leaned out into the corridor, left and right, jaws were dropping all along the row.

The thought behind their shock was obvious.

You knew it was open?

And you confessed it?

Let them gawk; Qing’s eyes glittered with mischief as they met Master Danlun’s.

He stood, blank, as if thinking; then hmm, and dipped his head.

“The door was open and you did not escape. You have no intent to escape.”

“Of course not. Escape to what? The Kunlun Daoists are lined up out there.”

“Understood.”

He glanced as if at the door, then:

“The door is broken. Nothing to be done. Behave yourself.”

“Yep! I will behave very nicely!”

That’s it?

The door doesn’t lock?

“Just behave”—and done?

Qing swept the prisoners with a triumphant look.

How to describe their faces?

A pity this ancient, primitive Central Plains world has no camera.

Qing went one better.

“And what are those plates below? Perhaps your meal, Daoist?”

Master Danlun paused a beat—

“Yes. But since you confessed your open door and were honest, I’ll give them to you as a reward.”

And this is why you befriend clever people.

A look, a cue, and the beats fall into place without a word.