Tang San had no idea that, at this moment, the teacher he had been thinking about day and night was locked in the dungeon beneath the Spirit Hall branch in Nuoding City.
This place never saw daylight. The air was thick with the stench of mold, excrement, and rust.
Unknown dark stains clung to the walls. Dim oil lamps cast flickering shadows, making everything appear twisted and eerie.
"Let me out! You shortsighted idiots! I'm an elder of Spirit Hall!"
A hoarse roar came from the third cell, echoing through the narrow corridor.
Yu Xiaogang gripped the iron bars, each as thick as a bowl, with both hands. His fingernails had torn from the force, blood seeping out. He had been shouting like this for days. His voice was already unbearably hoarse, his eyes bloodshot, his hair messily stuck to his forehead, and his black robe was covered in filth.
"When I get out, I'll make you pay! Bibi Dong won't let you off!"
The only response was the faint groans or snores of other prisoners from the end of the corridor, along with the echo of his own cries.
At the dungeon entrance, two guards leaned against the wall in boredom.
"Jeez, isn't this guy tired of shouting yet?" The younger guard, Peter, dug at his ear with an impatient look. "It's been days, and he just keeps repeating the same lines. Elder, elder... If he really were an elder, would he be locked up in here?"
The older John yawned. "Who cares? Master Ma Xiunuo told us to look after him. Just make sure he doesn't starve to death. As for the rest—let him yell."
Peter's eyes shifted, and he suddenly revealed a wicked grin. "Hey, John, I've got an idea. One that'll make this guy quiet down."