Three Hundred Thousand Years of White Qi, Abundant Reserves
In the blink of an eye, another three years have passed.
During those three years, Chen Du was practically the only person executed below the third level.
The young prison guards were timid and dared not face the ferocious prisoners, much less bear the consequences. So, the task of executing prisoners fell to them most of the time.
Old Zhou was happy to have some free time, so he shoved the key to the third floor into his hand and didn't ask any more questions.
Chen Du never refused, and each execution was swift and decisive, one cut at a time, never dragging things out.
Over the course of three years, he roughly counted the number of prisoners he handled.
The Seventh Realms killed nearly two thousand.
More than 300 people were killed in the Eighth Realm, and 20 to 30 people were killed in the Ninth Realm.
Before each execution, he would secretly sense whether the Heaven's Way of Righteousness or Heaven's Way of Evil.
Those who deserved their fate entered the palace in White Qi.
Those who suffered injustice and injustice were cursed with Black Qi entering their accounts.
The Seventh Realm lasts approximately one hundred years, the Eighth Realm three hundred years, and the Ninth Realm six or seven hundred years.
After the demon king of the Tenth Realms on the third level Tu Wanshan, he killed another Tenth Realm king at the entrance to the fourth level. The White Qi that entered his account lasted for two thousand years.
He did the math.
Over the course of three years, the White Qi accumulated for approximately 290,000 years.
The Black Qi had accumulated for approximately 8,900 years.
Adding the two together, it comes to close to 300,000 years.
This is an astronomical figure, far exceeding all his previous accumulations.
He sealed this fortune deep within his consciousness, leaving it untouched for the time being.
During this period, he patrolled during the day and cultivated at night.
Over the years, Chen Du has accumulated more and more White Qi and Black Qi, like two invisible mountains, heavily pressing down on the depths of his consciousness.
The White Qi is nearly 300,000 years old, and the Black Qi is nearly 9,000 years old. The thicker this trump card is, the more confident he will be.
Even if he were to face a powerhouse at the Tenth Realm Early Stage now, he would be confident that he could escape from their clutches using these trump cards.
Of course, it's best not to use your trump card if you don't want to.
He still needs more time, more principles, and a higher level of understanding.
He has not yet fully explored the Divine Prison.
At the same time, he could also clearly sense that Old Zhou getting old.
Old Zhou was just a Fourth Realm cultivator.
Having spent decades in this Divine Prison, subjected to the daily erosion of suppressing power and the monthly disturbance of yin and evil energy, his body had long since become depleted.
He used to be able to carry the Divine Prison Blade and walk through the entire first level, but now he has to lean against the wall and pant for a long time after walking half a circle.
His hands began to tremble, he couldn't hold the pipe steady, and he drank less alcohol.
He became more talkative, recounting old stories over and over again, about his fear when he first entered the Divine Prison in his youth, and about the important figures he had met who had been imprisoned in the Divine Prison and then quietly disappeared.
Chen Du listened without interrupting each time.
He could tell that Old Zhou was making his final arrangements.
"Kid, take these keys." One evening, Old Zhou stuffed a heavy bunch of brass keys into his hand, leaned back in his wicker chair, and let out a long sigh. "These are the keys to more areas on the third floor. From now on, all those prisoners will be under your jurisdiction."
I'm old and can't walk anymore. If I don't get up one day, don't come to wake me.
Chen Du took the key, weighed it in his hand, and said nothing more. He simply covered Old Zhou's knees with the old blanket that had slipped off.
There's one more thing.
After being imprisoned for several years, the higher-ups finally ordered Gu Changqing's execution.
The day the roster was delivered to Chen Du, he stared at those three words for a long time. Among them was one person... Gu Changqing, accused of "treason and collusion with the enemy."
He took the roster and went to the deepest iron cell on the third floor.
Gu Changqing was still sitting on the stone bed, still looking thin and withered.
Over the years, Chen Du has brought him food and water every day and occasionally chatted with him. Gu Changqing is no longer as silent as he was at the beginning.
He would accept the wine Chen Du brought, take a sip, and occasionally ask about things outside.
Finally, a glimmer of life returned to his eyes.
"The order has come from above," Chen Du said calmly, standing at the cell door.
Gu Changqing raised her head, glanced at him, and then looked at the roster in his hand.
He was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled, a hint of relief in his expression. "I knew this day would come."
He stood up, walked to Chen Du, and extended his hands. "Go ahead and do it. Thank you for these past few years."
Chen Du looked at his outstretched hands.
He opened his eyes, looked at Gu Changqing, and suddenly whispered, "Come with me."
Gu Changqing was stunned. Before he could react, Chen Du raised his hand and pressed it against the back of his neck.
The palm strike was gentle, Gu Changqing's vision went black as his entire body went limp.
Chen Du helped him up, took out a set of old prison clothes he had prepared beforehand, and changed Gu Changqing out of the one he was wearing.
Then he put the unconscious Gu Changqing into a body bag he had obtained from the execution platform, tied the bag tightly, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and walked out along the most secluded corpse transport passage in the Divine Prison.
The passageway was narrow and dark, and reeked of decay.
He walked very fast, each step carefully calculated to mark the intervals of his patrol.
Over the years, he had become so familiar with the Divine Prison that he knew exactly which roads were deserted and when, and which corners had hidden sentries.
He had long since figured out the rules of the Divine Prison.
They don't check the bodies when they're taken out, but they check the living when they come in.
After exiting the back gate of the Divine Prison, he placed the body bag on a cart and pushed it to the mass grave outside the city.
When Gu Changqing woke up, he was already in a desolate forest outside the city.
Chen Du placed a bag of dry rations and a jug of water beside him, along with a few taels of silver. "Go south, don't go back to the Northern Border. Change your name and start a new life."
Gu Changqing was still in a daze. He looked at his hands, then at Chen Du, and his lips moved. "You..."
Chen Du didn't let him finish speaking before turning around and leaving.
Behind him, Gu Changqing's voice drifted from afar. "Qin Dong, I owe you a life."
Chen Du didn't turn around; he simply waved his hand.
Deep within the sea of consciousness, six hundred years of White Qi quietly descended.
He could have killed Gu Changqing with a single blow, the White Qi easily escaping his grasp.
But he chose a different path.
He can distinguish between certain things.
Another thirty years have passed.
Over the past thirty years, Chen Du has watched Old Zhou grow older day by day, like an oil lamp slowly burning out its oil.
At first, Old Zhou could still lean back in the rattan chair and take a couple of puffs of his pipe, but later the pipe slipped from his hand more and more often, and eventually he couldn't even sit in the rattan chair anymore, and could only lie in bed, staring at the ceiling with his eyes open.
Every day after Chen Du returned from patrol, he would sit in his room for a while without saying a word.
Old Zhou didn't say a word, but occasionally he would extend a withered hand and pat Chen Du's hand, as if to say, "I'm still here."
One night, Chen Du returned from patrol and opened the door to find the house unusually quiet.
Old Zhou lay on the bed, his hand hanging limply at the edge, a faint smile still lingering on his lips. He was already cold.
Chen Du stood at the door for a long time before going in, pulling the quilt up to cover him, and placing the pipe beside him.