Chapter Eleven Sudden Death

“Half a month? Ha, ten days—ten taels of silver!”
The next speaker was the man standing to the right behind the Grade-A jailer, his voice deep and thunderous as an ancient bell.
“Silver? Don’t wager with such vulgar things as gold and silver. Why not bet with spirit stones or profound crystals instead?”
This hoarse voice belonged to the last member of the group. He looked young, about twenty-three or twenty-four, but his rasp was that of an old man at death’s door.
“Gongyang Hao, do you still think yourself a scion of a noble house? Always talking about spirit stones and profound crystals. Don’t forget, all the rights of the Gongyang family were stripped from you long ago, and you were expelled from your clan, left only with the compound surname Gongyang.”
The man to the right of the Grade-A jailer sneered. His booming voice echoed repeatedly through the room.
“At least I still have a name. Some things here don’t even possess that much,” Gongyang Hao replied, his thin face unchanged. His eyes narrowed, and a faint, enigmatic smile played at his lips.
Bang.
A bench was hurled violently at Gongyang Hao.
He sidestepped unhurriedly, letting the bench smash against the door, splintering into fragments with shards flying everywhere.
But it didn’t end there.
In the instant the bench struck the door, the man with the thunderous voice had already appeared before Gongyang Hao, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground with one hand.
His eyes were a deep brown, pupils contracted nearly to pinpricks.
“A crocodile, a bull-rhino, an elephant—I never thought I, Gongyang Hao, would sink so low as to serve as a lackey for three monsters,” Gongyang Hao managed to sneer at everyone in the room, even with his neck gripped in a massive hand.
“Third Brother, let go.”
The Grade-A jailer sat casually beside a table, glancing at the suspended Gongyang Hao and chuckling lightly.
“The rankings among jailers are determined by our contests in the Warden’s Office. You lacked the skill to surpass us and became a Grade-B jailer. If you had any pride, if you’d used those spirit artifacts and techniques your noble clan is known for to defeat us, the Grade-A position would be yours—and you’d have the right to pick your own followers.
Too bad trash is just trash. You can’t even compare to what you scorn, and if you ask me, the Gongyang family was merciful. A man like you isn’t even fit to keep the name Gongyang.”
The Grade-A jailer’s words stabbed into Gongyang Hao’s heart like a blade. Jolted from where he’d been thrown to the ground, Gongyang Hao snatched up a splinter of wood and lunged at the jailer.
“Second Brother, you and Third Brother go check if there’s any trouble in the cells we patrol. This fellow isn’t usually so bold—he must be trying to distract us.”
The Grade-A jailer smiled playfully as Gongyang Hao charged him, waving off the two other monsters who wanted to intervene. Rising to his feet, he kicked Gongyang Hao away with effortless force.
Bang.
Pain exploded in Gongyang Hao’s abdomen as the blow sent him spinning, blood surging up to spray from his mouth. He crashed backward, knocking over who knew how many tables and chairs.
“Hey, boy, sit still and don’t move.”
The Grade-A jailer glanced at the two jailers already leaving the room, then turned to look at Tang Changhong, who was huddled by a corner table. A cruel smile curled his lips as he addressed him.
“If you have the guts, kill us.”
Gongyang Hao leaned against the wall, forcing himself to sit upright despite the pain. His eyes were now ringed with red as he mocked the jailer advancing step by step.
Whether by design or chance, his words drew the trembling Tang Changhong into his camp.
“If I killed you, I’d be thrown into the demon cells myself. If I were unlucky, the Demon Executioner would take my head. I barely escaped from the demon prison of Yunhai Prefecture—I have no wish to end up in the cells here. These demon cells are far more difficult to break out of than any others on the continent.”
The Grade-A jailer grinned, showing a dense row of razor-sharp teeth.
“I can’t kill you, but I can beat you to vent my anger.”
As the towering jailer approached Gongyang Hao, the usually overlooked and unguarded Tang Changhong suddenly stood, moving to his side.
“What’s this? You want to take the beating for him? I didn’t expect you two to have such a bond…”
Shhhk.
“You!”
The Grade-A jailer turned, shocked that this insignificant underling dared attack him—and even more shocked to find a weapon in his hand!
Tang Changhong’s hand, clutching a white dagger, was instantly seized and twisted into a mangled shape.
Pain so intense it threatened to drown all sense nearly drove Tang Changhong into unconsciousness.
“My great-uncle is the Dragon King of Waterstar River! How dare you threaten my life?! Even the Prefect of Yunhai, the Underworld Official of the City Temple, and the Mountain Shrine’s Earth God would all yield to me!”
The Grade-A jailer’s face contorted with rage as he hurled Tang Changhong aside, clutching his own right hip. The white dagger clung to his flesh like a maggot to bone, impossible to extract.
Each attempt to pull it free brought a spray of dark green blood, and a pain that tore at his very soul, twisting his features into something ever more monstrous.
His head flattened, jaw protruded, and his skin broke out in granular and banded scales. His limbs thickened and shortened, his body curling on the ground.
In moments, he was still and silent.
“Dead.”
Gongyang Hao forced himself upright, grimacing from the pain in his belly. He wiped the blood from his face and staggered to the now-revealed crocodilian corpse, breathing heavily as he stared at the white dagger in its waist.
No one knew better than Gongyang Hao how tough a crocodile demon’s hide was.
What truly unsettled him was the absence of any lingering resentment or the cold, spectral presence of a soul reaper come to claim its soul.
This could mean only one thing—
Its demon soul was utterly annihilated.
Blood-soaked, Gongyang Hao gazed at the soulless corpse. No one replied to his earlier words.
He glanced at the web-like cracks spreading across the wall, then down at Tang Changhong, who lay unconscious below, and felt a surge of greedy desire welling up within him.
A weapon sharp enough to wound the soul—its value was beyond any worldly measure.
What grade of magical weapon could this be?
Could it be a spirit weapon… or perhaps an immortal artifact?
Greed clouded Gongyang Hao’s eyes. No reason was left to him to ask how a lowly jailer had come by such a miraculous weapon.
He gripped the dagger’s hilt, drawing it out smoothly and without resistance. Leaving the unconscious Tang Changhong and the dead crocodile behind, he swiftly departed the jailer’s quarters.