A jailer of the Heavenly Prison

Ye Wuyou's talent for cultivation left much to be desired.

Otherwise, he would not have spent so many years without reaching the first realm, leaving him no choice but to call in the last few favors owed to his late father and stand in the Heavenly Prison, trying to secure a job.

[Fuck your mother! Not even a dog would take this lousy job for three taels of silver a month. How could a mere jailer's position in the Heavenly Prison be worthy of your status? Clocking in means imprisonment; clocking out means yard time. Utterly dissatisfied, you immediately turn and stride away with effortless grace, thereafter roaming the martial world in carefree bliss.]

Stop barking. I'm just a commoner who couldn't even truss a chicken. Two days on, two days off, with no wind or sun to deal with? I'm perfectly happy, okay...

Ye Wuyou suppressed the incessant voice in his head and cautiously surveyed his surroundings.

The room was rather dim. The crude wooden desk bore greasy stains that would not scrub off, etched with the marks of passing years.

The man seated before him looked to be in his forties. A knife scar ran from between his brows down to the bridge of his nose. He raised a finger to his lips and licked it, then opened the yellowed envelope in his hands, occasionally casting sidelong glances at Ye Wuyou.

His uniform made his identity clear.

A jailer of the Heavenly Prison.

Time ticked by, and the man licked the fingers holding the letter again and again.

Seeing his tightly knitted brows, Ye Wuyou felt a little worried.

It was not anything else that concerned him. After all, he had already found someone to put in a word with the man.

His main concern was whether the fellow could read.

He had opened and read the letter his father left before dying. It was short enough to finish in under a minute.

Ye Wuyou stole another glance.

Well, damn. You're holding the letter upside down.

Finally, with a light cough, the man set down the letter and picked up a cup of hot tea from the greasy desk, leisurely taking a sip.

"Ptoo."

After spitting some tea foam back into the cup, the man finally spoke, a subtle hint of amusement creeping into his voice.

"Ye Wuyou, right? Come, come, sit down. No need to be so stiff."

But there's only one chair, and it's under your ass.

"Your father, Ye Xiangsheng, was once a dear friend of mine, as close as my own brother."

My dad wasn't called Ye Xiangsheng... His name was Ye Changsheng. 'Long life,' though his was rather short.

"Wuyou, do you understand what I'm saying?"

[Faced with the man's insinuating question, you sneer three times, your eyes gleaming coldly, and roar, "Fuck your mother! A mere first-realm cultivator dares give me trouble?" Today, with your mortal body, you shall defeat an enemy above your realm.]

Ye Wuyou ignored the voice in his head with practiced ease.

Of course I understand. How could I not?

You want more money.

In response to the man's question, Ye Wuyou put on just the right amount of a smile. Then, feigning anguish at the expense, he rummaged inside his clothes for a long while before producing a small coin pouch and offering it with both hands.

"Sorry for the trouble, sir. This is just a small token of my appreciation. Please don't refuse."

Once the coin pouch disappeared into the man's clothes, his smile finally grew a little more sincere.

"Wuyou, your father and I were like brothers, so I think of you as my nephew. From now on, just call me Uncle Wang."

"Let me make this clear first. Don't think your Uncle Wang is stingy. Some things are difficult to arrange, you know. Especially for someone like you, who has nothing going for him except his good looks and still hasn't reached the first realm at nearly twenty. Making an exception isn't easy."

"All I'm doing is taking your money to handle your business. Don't hold it against me."

[This old bastard actually mocked your cultivation realm! Outrageous! So what if you haven't reached the first realm at twenty? Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west-never scorn a youth for being poor! Once, a chat group owner became an emperor in two years, and an ox-riding Daoist entered the Celestial Phenomena realm in a single step. Today, I, Ye Wuyou, shall ascend in broad daylight, entering the Profound Insight realm at dawn and attaining the Knowing Fate realm by dusk!]

Enough, enough... This is embarrassing.

Quite some time had passed by the time Ye Wuyou received his uniform.

Looking at himself dressed as a jailer in the cloudy bronze mirror, Ye Wuyou scratched his head. He did not look too bad, did he?

Even so, he still felt a little dazed.

Was I really going to spend the rest of my life in this Heavenly Prison?

No. This is just somewhere to settle for now. I can make long-term plans later.

Worst comes to worst, I'll plagiarize some poems...

[Plagiarize? How could a scholar's work be called plagiarism? You laugh three times, turn, and wield your brush to write a masterpiece for the ages, one certain to make the fellow before you prostrate himself in worship.]

Write, my ass... He can't even read.

Ye Wuyou was not a "local." He had transmigrated here several months ago.

There was no helping it. The original owner of this body had died of a serious illness. His father had been named "Long Life" but had lived a short one, while his mother had passed away even earlier.

Upon learning that this was a world with cultivators, and that he himself had transmigrated, his heart had naturally surged with excitement.

Yet after several months, apart from his handsome but utterly useless face and his mighty but nowhere-to-be-used little brother, he had achieved nothing whatsoever.

Neither his aptitude nor his family circumstances amounted to much.

Of course, the biggest problem was that this so-called system did nothing but bark.

Cultivation techniques? Wealth? Talent?

None of the above.

Still, Ye Wuyou considered himself fairly levelheaded. He was not the sort to wail for his parents every day and beg his almighty system daddy for help.

Whether he had one or not, one thing remained important.

Without food, people died.

The original owner's foundations were truly terrible. To say he knew nothing might have been unfair, but there was certainly very little he knew how to do.

His father, who had spent his entire life as a jailer, had always wanted Ye Wuyou to pursue an official career. In his father's own words, cultivators who fought could never measure up to those who wielded writing brushes.

After taking the examinations three years running, he had earned neither scholarly honors nor any useful skill, and had instead died of illness first.

So Ye Wuyou stopped hesitating and agonizing. Before he could starve to death, he found this job for his currently skill-less self.

Skywave City, Great Yan Kingdom.

A jailer of the Heavenly Prison.

"Wuyou, come outside. I'll show you around the Heavenly Prison first. I don't know whether your father ever told you about it?"

Ye Wuyou shook his head at Uncle Wang.

His father had apparently never thought being a jailer was a particularly good job, and had never mentioned any of this.

Stepping out of the little room, Ye Wuyou's expression grew slightly intent. This was his first serious look at the interior of the so-called Heavenly Prison.

The long, narrow corridor had plenty of candlelight, but it still could not dispel the gloomy darkness inside the prison.

Not far behind him lay the entrance to the Heavenly Prison. It was usually left open, but an enormous, weathered bluestone gate hung above it.

Ye Wuyou only gave it a cursory look. Surely it weighed at least a thousand jin?

It looked almost on par with an ordinary city gate.

Inside the Heavenly Prison, rows of cells lined both sides of the corridor. Somewhat unexpectedly, their occupants seemed different from the prisoners he had imagined.

Several cells were even exceptionally clean and tidy. Most of their occupants looked calm, and did not so much as lift their eyelids when Ye Wuyou and Uncle Wang approached.

Uncle Wang was used to it, but he also knew Ye Wuyou was puzzled, so he simply asked.

"Well? Do you know what makes the Heavenly Prison different from the cells in those government offices?"

Ye Wuyou thought for a moment before replying with some uncertainty.

"In the entire Great Yan Kingdom, only the imperial capital and Skywave City have a Heavenly Prison. None of the other provinces, circuits, or prefectures have one... My learning is shallow, Uncle. That's all I know from books."

"That's right. Ordinary criminals couldn't get into the Heavenly Prison even if they wanted to. Dealing with common petty thieves is the local authorities' business. Even after they're caught, there's no need to haul them here."

Uncle Wang smiled, then led Ye Wuyou a little farther away from the cells and pointed at them.

"The people locked up on this floor were all, more or less, high officials, dignitaries, or wealthy local magnates back outside. Some cases are hard to pass judgment on, but you can't release them either. Understand?"

"Yes."

Ye Wuyou thought for a moment, then asked quietly.

"Are there any members of the imperial family or their relatives in here?"

Uncle Wang paused, then burst out laughing.

"You've thought this through, lad. But not at the moment."

As he spoke, Uncle Wang led Ye Wuyou onward and pushed open a stone door in the wall ahead.

The jailer guarding the doorway glanced at them both. He frowned upon seeing Ye Wuyou, but said nothing.

Honestly, Ye Wuyou was genuinely shocked when he saw Uncle Wang push that enormous stone door open with one hand.

Fortunately, he soon noticed that the stone door had not been fully shut, merely left ajar, and there was a mechanism on one side.

"The second floor is down below. I won't take you down there. The ones locked up below are real criminals, including plenty of bloodthirsty fellows with cultivation."

"The area you'll be responsible for will only be the first floor. Unless there's an emergency, you won't go to the other floors."

Hearing this, Ye Wuyou asked in confusion.

"What counts as an emergency?"

"An emergency? A prison break, a riot, or an escaped prisoner. If you really want to get technical, the Heavenly Prison collapsing would count too, hahaha."

Uncle Wang was in a good mood and even cracked a joke.

Having only just arrived, Ye Wuyou looked a little nervous upon hearing that.

Uncle Wang patted his shoulder and said heartily.

"Don't worry. It's perfectly safe here. I've worked here for over thirty years, and nothing has ever happened."

With that, Uncle Wang headed down to the second floor alone.

The stone door slowly closed, and his figure vanished into the darkness.