Ruthless A-Cheng

Great Yu, Linji City.

City Guard Office prison, South District.

The prison block was damp and dark, its air thick with all manner of foul odors. A young jailer with a saber at his waist strolled leisurely as he inspected the cells.

The youth was named Chen Cheng. His face was gaunt, his frame thin, his arms hanging at his sides and his back slightly hunched. He swayed as he walked, looking as though a breeze could knock him over.

If not for the oversized jailer's uniform that did not fit him, anyone would have taken him for a penniless scholar who knew nothing but books and never had enough to eat.

Chen Cheng's eyes were half-lidded, and he looked listless and lazy.

Yet wherever this half-dead-looking fellow passed, the prisoners all lowered their heads in fear.

A few newly arrived prisoners did not understand and tried to ask about it, but before they could utter a word, their cellmates clamped hands tightly over their mouths. Only after Chen Cheng had gone far away did they dare explain in low voices.

"This is Ruthless A-Cheng. Whatever you do, don't provoke him!"

Chen Cheng turned a blind eye to it all, immersed in his own thoughts.

In his mind, he clearly remembered living through another life.

That world had been relatively peaceful. People mostly worked nine to five, occasionally passing the time with their phones and computers.

His memories of this world were instead rather vague. He was only seventeen, an utterly ordinary young man.

Half a year ago, his father had died of a serious illness. Chen Cheng had inherited his father's occupation and become a jailer in the City Guard Office prison.

Only then had his past-life wisdom awakened, giving him a clearer understanding of everything around him.

"A jailer might look imposing, and these prisoners might treat him like some grand lord, but he's still at the bottom of the heap. I have to find a better position somehow."

He strolled to the area of the prison reserved for condemned criminals and stopped before it with a long sigh.

In this world, martial strength reigned supreme. There were martial artists who cultivated the martial path and leapt high and far, for whom killing a man was as easy as pinching a chick to death.

Once martial cultivation reached a certain level, killing intent naturally arose. Using martial force to defy the law was no empty saying.

Once he left the prison, a jailer was nothing. One day, he might run into some vicious martial artist and be handled like putty.

"I still have to find a way to cultivate the martial path. Becoming a martial artist is the proper road."

Muttering to himself, Chen Cheng stepped forward and looked toward the innermost cell.

The bald prisoner in the cell had been reclining sideways on a bed of straw. As though sensing Chen Cheng's gaze, he shuddered and instinctively sat upright.

Once he saw that Chen Cheng's hands were empty, the bald prisoner heaved a fierce sigh of relief.

"Master Xiuchen, hello." Chen Cheng spoke slowly in a low voice.

"A-Cheng, I've already confessed everything!" Master Xiuchen shouted as loudly as he could in a hoarse voice.

He was not old, appearing to be around twenty-four or twenty-five. His prison clothes were tattered, his body covered in bloodstains, and much of his exposed skin was even scorched black, giving off waves of stench.

The only thing still relatively intact was his face. It was a face of peerless beauty, with cold pale skin, phoenix brows, and starry eyes. Delicate and moving, it inspired pity at first sight; even the most beautiful woman would feel ashamed before it.

"Think it over again. Speak when you've thought it through."

Chen Cheng said this lightly, then turned and left.

After finishing his inspection, he ran into Chief Jailer Jiang Cheng, who was leading several jailers as they escorted a man dressed like a wandering martial artist into the prison.

"A-Cheng, go collect your monthly pay. Once you've collected it, come to the torture chamber," Jiang Cheng called out.

"Alright."

After leaving the clerks' office, Chen Cheng weighed the somewhat flat money pouch in his hand. Standing at the prison entrance, his face was full of worry.

He was merely a bottom-ranking jailer. His monthly pay was eight qian of silver, equivalent to eight hundred copper coins.

In ordinary years, that would have been enough to support a family of three or four for a month. But in today's Great Yu, disasters and famine had come year after year, and the prices of rice, flour, grain, and oil had soared. Even though the Chen household had only two people, they would likely have to tighten their belts.

"Hard times!"

A gust of cold wind blew past, and Chen Cheng unconsciously drew in his neck. He turned to look at the sky, only to see the weather, which had been fairly clear moments ago, change without warning. The sky suddenly darkened. Then the frigid wind howled, and dense, icy raindrops mixed with bits of snow came scattering down from the heavens.

"This damned sky! Why the hell is it snowing when everything was fine?"

"Exactly! Winter's only just begun, and we're already getting snow. It's more than ten days earlier than last year!"

"This snow will probably keep falling for several days."

"It's colder this year than in previous years. I'm afraid it'll be another year of cold disaster. Hard to endure!"

The women of Locust Tree Alley, who had gone out of the city together to gather firewood, chattered as they hurried into the alley and raced toward their own courtyard gates.

A young girl, half dragging and half carrying a huge bundle of dead branches, lagged behind at the very end.

She was around thirteen or fourteen, small and thin, her face covered in a thick layer of mud and dust that made her look filthy. Her somewhat thin coarse-cloth dress had been soaked more than halfway through by sweat, rain, and snow.

"Xiaowan, home's just ahead. Once I unload my firewood, I'll come help you."

The middle-aged woman who spoke wore coarse clothes and was also carrying a heavy load of dead branches on a shoulder pole.

"No need, Aunt Cuihua. You take care of your own things. I can manage."

Mu Xiaowan forced a stubborn smile.

"Fine. If you need help, just call out." Zhang Cuihua knew Mu Xiaowan was strong-willed. After reminding her, she quickened her pace and headed off.

"Mhm." Mu Xiaowan nodded and continued dragging the dead branches forward with difficulty.

After she had gone only a short distance, a tall, skinny, pockmarked man swaggered out of the alley with a half-grown boy of around ten in tow.

The pockmarked man was Ma Liu, a notorious local thug. He spent his days loafing about and doing no honest work, specializing in petty theft and sneaking around like a rat. The half-grown boy was Widow Tian's son, nicknamed Second Fool.

Mu Xiaowan recognized them. Not wanting trouble, she moved aside, intending to let them pass first.

"So it's the little wife from Chen Er's household. Tsk, tsk, you're growing prettier by the day.

That's a lot of firewood you picked up. Heavy, isn't it? Want Sixth Brother to lend you a hand?"

Ma Liu walked up to Mu Xiaowan, looked her over carefully, and teased her with a leering grin.

"Get lost!"

Mu Xiaowan shouted sharply, her voice carrying through more than half the alley.

"Oh-ho! Quite the fiery one! Chen Er's weak as a reed, and I hear he's fallen seriously ill again lately. He won't just croak, will he? If anything happens, remember to ask Sixth Brother to bury him. Don't worry, Sixth Brother's kind-hearted—I won't charge you." Ma Liu did not get angry. Instead, he continued with a false smile.

Mu Xiaowan was furious. She pulled a short stick from the bundle of dead branches and gripped it tightly in her hand.

"Ma Liu, you dare curse my Brother Cheng? Are you looking to die?"

Hearing the commotion, people from several nearby households poked their heads out from their courtyard gates to watch.

Mu Xiaowan was bristling with fury, but Ma Liu was the one who lost his nerve. Seeing that he could not gain any advantage, he spat on the ground and turned to leave with Second Fool.

"Little wife of the Chen household, we'll meet again! Second Fool, let's go!"

After taking only a few steps, Ma Liu coughed, reached out to tug Second Fool, and gestured with his chin toward a pebble on the ground.

As a notorious local thug, how could he let a little girl steal his thunder?

If word of this got out, how could he keep swaggering around?

Second Fool was sturdy and simple-minded, but he had been running around with Ma Liu for some time and understood that Ma Liu wanted him to make a show of force. He immediately picked up the pebble and hurled it at Mu Xiaowan.

Mu Xiaowan had just hoisted up the firewood and was unprepared. She had no time to dodge and could only lower her head instinctively, but the pebble still struck her on the forehead.

When she clutched her forehead and wanted to find a stone to throw back, Second Fool had already run off at a quick pace, shouting, "Little jinx! I hit the little jinx!"