The Wisdom of Playing Dumb

South City Prison and the South City Guard Bureau stood separated by only a single wall, with an arched gate connecting them.

Outside the prison officers' quarters lay a small garden where jailers could rest briefly. There was a pavilion, ornamental rockeries, and lush greenery, making the place fairly tranquil.

Though it was called rest, on ordinary days the jailers only dared stroll around for a few laps before hurrying back into the prison, not much different from letting oxen and horses out to stretch their legs.

If they dared linger too long and their superiors discovered it, they would receive a scolding at best, or a savage beating and even docked pay at worst.

After collecting his monthly wages, Chen Cheng did not immediately return to the prison. Instead, he stood in the pavilion of the little garden, watching rain and snow spill from the sky.

After loafing around for a full quarter-hour, he finally headed reluctantly toward the prison.

"No helping it. The prison never sees daylight. If you stay in there all day, even the strongest person will fall ill. It's not just the prisoners locked up for their crimes who can't take it—the jailers can't endure it either! When it's time to cherish your life, you have to cherish it!"

In the past, Chen Cheng would never have dared be so brazen. But times had changed. His reputation as Ruthless A-Cheng had begun to spread, and he had gotten along well with the jailers and cell bosses on his shift. He no longer had to worry about some blind fool of a jailer reporting him to their superiors.

Wave after wave of shrill, agonized screams and wails echoed from the torture chamber throughout the prison, leaving the inmates silent as cicadas in winter.

"Uncle Li, what did today's prisoner do to warrant such a grand display? Why did it require Boss Jiang to act personally?"

The heavy stench of blood drifted out from time to time, and Chen Cheng wrinkled his nose.

Li Tao, the burly jailer guarding the torture chamber entrance, was frowning as well. Nearing forty, he was an old jailer who had worked alongside Chen Cheng's father for many years.

When prisoners were first brought into the prison, the jailers would give them a vicious beating to establish their authority. This was customary, and it was usually carried out by veteran jailers like Li Tao.

After such a beating, prisoners not only became obedient and compliant, but also learned to be sensible, having their families obediently send silver as tribute.

Many prisoners even offered tribute money of their own accord before they had been beaten.

There were two kinds of jailers in the prison. One kind was like Li Tao—ruthless enough to strike without hesitation. The benefits they squeezed from prisoners were often far greater than the wages issued by the bureau.

Such jailers were a minority. Every one of them was like a demon, feared by both prisoners and colleagues alike.

The other kind of jailer was more common: honest and dutiful, cautious in every step, not daring to overstep the rules, living off their wages like miserable oxen and horses.

When Chen Cheng's father had still been alive, he had been honest and kind by nature, one of those oxen and horses. Fortunately, he had learned the skill of setting bones and treating injuries in his youth. After prisoners were viciously beaten, he could help tend their wounds and clean up afterward, preventing severely injured prisoners from being beaten to death. That made him just a little better off than ordinary oxen-and-horses jailers. He could exchange a few words with ruthless men like Li Tao and occasionally receive a small share of the money.

Chen Cheng had learned his father's bone-setting and injury-treating skills, but his heart had never been ruthless enough to catch the eye of veteran jailers like Li Tao.

But in recent days, Chen Cheng had awakened the wisdom of a previous life, and his style of doing things had changed. He had faintly gained the name Ruthless A-Cheng in South City Prison, so Li Tao had begun treating him with courtesy.

"Ah, just a river-and-lake bandit. He committed a massacre that wiped out an entire family. The ringleader got away, and they only caught one minor lackey. The City Guard Office is in a hurry to catch him, hoping to force out the whereabouts of his accomplices. That's why Boss Jiang couldn't sit idle."

"A river-and-lake bandit?" Chen Cheng looked doubtful. In this world, martial artists violating the law was a common sight. While cases of exterminating an entire family would certainly be investigated strictly, that was all there was to it. Most of the time, the City Guard Office merely followed procedure. When had they ever put their hearts into it?

Li Tao winked and lowered his voice. "The family that was wiped out was related by marriage to the Zhou Family of Ruyi Ward. They say Old Master Zhou put up two hundred taels of silver for the capture of the ringleader. Constable Liu from the City Guard Office's Ruyi Ward branch and Boss Jiang have both been taken care of."

"Oh! I understand." Chen Cheng nodded in realization.

Just then, Jiang Cheng emerged from the torture chamber with a grave expression.

"A-Cheng, go deal with him. We may still need to question him. Keep him alive."

"Alright," Chen Cheng answered.

"Old Li, we've got work!" Jiang Cheng hurried away with Li Tao and several jailers.

As a cell boss, Jiang Cheng was no ordinary man. He was a martial artist who had entered the Skin-Tempering Realm years ago, and his strength was no weaker than that of the City Guard Office's street-patrolling constables.

Li Tao and the others were no simple men either. They usually accepted bribes and had accumulated quite a bit of money. With good food and drink, their blood and qi were robust, and they had learned some saber techniques from Jiang Cheng. They were a cut above the martial artists of the jianghu who only knew how to hack and slash with crude moves.

When they said they had work, it meant they had taken on a private job. Most likely, they were going to assist the City Guard Office in capturing criminals.

Capturing criminals was the duty of the City Guard Office's street patrol officers, and jailers normally would not get involved. But nothing was absolute. Clearly, this Old Master Zhou had paid enough money that the jailers involved in interrogating prisoners could lend a hand.

As for why the City Guard Office's street patrol officers needed assistance, one reason was insufficient manpower. The other was that there was strength in numbers. Every extra person meant a little more strength. If they encountered a formidable opponent, having greater numbers could also reduce their casualties.

"Martial artists really do make money fast!"

Chen Cheng sighed inwardly as he entered the torture chamber and glanced at the prisoner strapped to the torture rack.

The prisoner had already been tortured to the brink of death. He looked to be in his thirties, tall and powerfully built, with knotted muscles. At a glance, he was clearly a martial artist, and seemingly not a weak one. No matter how one looked at him, he did not resemble a minor lackey. Li Tao had obviously not told the truth.

Even Li Tao was keeping his lips sealed this tightly. This case was clearly no simple matter.

The City Guard Office's street patrol officers and constables themselves possessed Skin-Tempering Realm strength, yet they still needed cell boss Jiang Cheng's help to make an arrest. It would be stranger if the matter were simple.

Chen Cheng could not be bothered to dwell on it. He stepped forward to inspect the prisoner's injuries. His own strength was meager; knowing too much was not necessarily a good thing. Sometimes, being able to play dumb was the way to preserve one's life.

The prisoner had been beaten until his skin was split and his flesh torn, a horrific sight. But Chen Cheng knew these were only superficial flesh wounds, nothing serious.

The truly lethal injury was the saber wound on his left shoulder, deep enough to reveal bone. The cut was clean and decisive, only a few inches short of severing his entire left arm. It showed just how formidable the attacker had been.

The other two injuries were on his calves, which had been forcibly snapped. Blood was now gushing from them. They were probably Jiang Cheng's handiwork.

When jailers tortured prisoners for confessions, they usually knew their limits, ensuring the prisoner was injured but not dead, hurt but not crippled, always leaving some room.

This time, Jiang Cheng had tortured him with such reckless abandon, leaving himself no way out. There was only one reason: in his eyes, this prisoner was already a dead man!

Since he was a dead man, Chen Cheng naturally could not be bothered to waste effort on him. Keeping him alive was easy enough—just stop the bleeding and bandage him.

As for whether the prisoner's bones would be set, or whether he would become crippled, that was not Chen Cheng's concern.

Chen Cheng was not a ruthless man. On the contrary, he considered himself an utterly good person. Since transmigrating to this world, aside from that bald man in the death-row cells, he had never tortured anyone.

"You're pretty lucky to have run into a good man like me! I'm very gentle when treating injuries. It won't hurt at all."

The prisoner's eyes were half-closed, and he had no intention of responding to Chen Cheng. Yet Chen Cheng immediately caught the sudden glint that flashed beneath his eyelids.

Even so severely injured, he can still remain conscious. He really is a martial artist! Chen Cheng thought to himself. To be honest, he was not someone who talked much.