1: Chapter 1: Gain a year's worth of power in just one day!

The thirtieth year of Xuanhe in the Great Wei, winter.

Northwest of the capital, the Celestial Prison.

"Just kill me! Give me a quick death! This prison's Evil Qi has seeped into my bone marrow; I can't take it for another moment!"

"Brother, listen to my advice, just hold on for two more days."

"I'm living a life worse than death, why should I wait!"

"Because the day after tomorrow is the Winter Solstice. According to Great Wei law, if a prisoner dies on the Winter Solstice, the government provides one tael of silver for burial expenses. If you die today, I won't get that money..."

"...I'm about to die, and I still have to save that bit of money for you?!"

"Naturally. Respect for the deceased is paramount, so why not do a good deed and help a brother out this once?"

Inside the Cell Block D jailer's room, the bean-sized flame of an oil lamp flickered.

Chen Ran stood to the side, casually chatting with the prisoner beside him.

In truth, he was not from this world. He had simply been reincarnated into this body after a head-on collision with a truck after work, and it wasn't until he turned eighteen that he awakened the wisdom of his past life.

This body was also named Chen Ran, eighteen years of age. His family had been jailers for generations, making him a proper "second-generation jailer."

Unfortunately, the value of being this "second-generation" was a bit low.

Half a month ago, the previous owner of this body had dozed off while on duty. His superior, Captain Wang, caught him and kicked him to the night shift in this Cell Block D death row.

Although those imprisoned here weren't peerless Devil Heads, they were all vicious outlaws of the Jianghu, possessing the heaviest Evil Qi.

His body was naturally weak and couldn't withstand the constant erosion of the Evil Qi. A bout of cold last night had nearly claimed his life.

If it hadn't been for the recent Awakening of his memories, he would have likely become a corpse by now.

"This is starting on Hell difficulty..."

Chen Ran grumbled, his throat itching as he began to cough violently.

This body was too useless.

In this man-eating Celestial Prison, without martial arts to protect oneself, death was inevitable.

Captain Wang throwing him here was clearly intended to kill him.

Suddenly.

Chen Ran's pupils constricted.

An ancient and heavy book floated out of thin air.

Four words were carved on the cover—heavenly book of prison suppression.

"Golden Finger?"

Chen Ran's eyes lit up; as a transmigrator, he was naturally familiar with this.

The heavenly book was blank, with only a few lines of small text appearing.

[Guard the Celestial Prison for one day. Reward: One year of cultivation.]

[Current Status: Unclaimed.]

[Claim now?]

Chen Ran stared at the lines, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

One day for one year?

This wasn't serving time; this was farming experience!

Without hesitation.

"Claim! I must claim it!"

He muttered in his heart.

Boom!

A heat current emerged from nowhere, pouring in through the crown of his head and instantly flowing through his entire body.

Chen Ran let out a muffled groan, gritting his teeth hard.

His bones crackled and his muscles tensed then relaxed.

That heat current was incredibly domineering, rampaging through his body and flushing out his clogged meridians.

Ten breaths later.

The heat current settled into his Dantian, turning into a ball of warmth.

Chen Ran let out a long breath, white mist condensing in the cold air.

He wasn't cold anymore.

Not only was he not cold, but his body was filled with power.

Chen Ran clenched his fist and threw a sudden punch into the air.

Whoosh!

The wind from his punch broke the air, producing a crisp sound.

Ninth Grade Skin Refining!

In the Great Wei, the martial path was divided into nine grades.

For an ordinary person to enter the ranks, they needed to hone their muscles and bones from a young age, training through the harshest winters and hottest summers for at least several years to develop a body of Copper Skin and iron bones and reach the Ninth Grade.

Yet he had transformed from a weak ordinary person into a Martial Artist who had entered a Realm in just an instant.

Is this what it feels like to use a cheat?

As long as he stayed in the Celestial Prison, one day meant one year of cultivation.

Stay low.

As long as he could stay low, he would eventually become invincible in the world.

As for Captain Wang...

Chen Ran narrowed his eyes and withdrew his fist.

A gentleman's revenge is never too late, even after ten years.

A petty man's revenge starts from morning till night.

But for now, he'd set a small goal: survive, then quietly amaze everyone.

"Chen Ran! Where are you? Food's here!"

A coarse shout came from outside.

It was Old Zhang, the servant responsible for delivering food and also his current mentor.

Chen Ran straightened his collar, hung his waist saber, and pushed the door open.

The corridor was deep and dark, with pitch-black cells on both sides.

The smell of rotting straw, the stench of excrement, and the old scent of blood were mixed together.

Old Zhang stood at the entrance of the passage holding two wooden buckets, looking impatient.

"What's taking you so long? Trying to starve the masters inside?"

Old Zhang kicked a wooden bucket toward Chen Ran's feet.

Inside the bucket was sour brown rice covered with a few pieces of rotten vegetable leaves, looking quite unappetizing.

Chen Ran didn't speak; he bent down and picked up the bucket.

It was very light.

In the past, he would have had to rest three times while carrying this bucket of dozens of catties, but now it felt weightless in his hand, like carrying a plastic bag.

Old Zhang glanced at him, the mockery he had prepared getting stuck in his throat.

This kid... why does he feel a bit different?

Chen Ran ignored Old Zhang's surprised gaze, carried the bucket, and walked toward his assigned area.

Cell Block D, Cell Seven.

A prisoner who had just arrived a few days ago was kept here.

Chen Ran walked to the bars.

By the dim firelight, he could see a person lying on a pile of straw in the corner.

The person had disheveled hair, limbs locked to the wall with iron chains, and tattered prison clothes that revealed skin covered in whip marks.

The Flower-Picking Bee, Zhao San.

Relying on his light-footwork skills, he had harmed many women from good families. Three days ago, he was captured by the Six Doors, had his hamstrings and tendons severed, and was thrown into the Celestial Prison to wait for death.

Chen Ran picked up the long-handled wooden ladle, scooped a portion of sour rice, and poured it through the gap in the bars into a broken bowl on the ground.

Splatter.

Quite a bit of the food splashed out.

Zhao San moved, his chains clattering.

He struggled to lift his head, revealing a face covered in blood and filth.

Those eyes were cloudy yet filled with a sense of venomous resentment.

"L-Little brother..."

Zhao San's voice was hoarse, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.

"Give me a drink of wine."

Chen Ran remained expressionless and turned to leave.

"I have... silver."

Zhao San panted heavily.

"In the south of the city... buried under the old locust tree... five hundred taels."

Chen Ran paused.

Five hundred taels?

For a jailer whose monthly salary was only two taels of silver, this was definitely a huge sum, enough for him to buy a small courtyard in the capital and marry a wife.

But he didn't move.

In this Celestial Prison, those who believed a prisoner's words died the fastest.

Just then.

The air in front of Chen Ran distorted again.

The book pages flipped, stopping on the second page.

Lines of text appeared above Zhao San's head.

[Prisoner: Zhao San]

[Nickname: Flower-Picking Bee]

[Realm: Eighth Grade Tendon Changing (Crippled)]

[Sins: Profound (Rape, plunder, and murder; death is not enough to atone)]

[Status: Near Death (Organ failure, won't survive the night)]

[Involvement: None]

Chen Ran's gaze fell on the last line.

Involvement?

A thought crossed his mind.

The Heavenly Book transmitted a piece of information.

By participating in a prisoner's Karma, one could obtain extra rewards.

The higher the involvement, the more generous the reward.

If one could personally end a truly wicked individual, there was even a chance to plunder their Cultivation Techniques and secret skills.

Chen Ran looked at the words "Sins" above Zhao San's head, which were so red they were almost black, and his gaze gradually became playful.

Won't survive the night?

Since he's going to die anyway, might as well put him to some use.

This is an experience pack delivered right to my door!

Chen Ran put down the wooden bucket.

He walked to the bars, crouched down, leveled his gaze with Zhao San, and a kind smile played on his lips.

"Five hundred taels?"

Chen Ran's voice was calm.

A glimmer of hope flashed in Zhao San's eyes, as if he were grasping at the last straw.

"Yes, as long as you give me wine and help me deliver a letter."

"To whom?"

"Hongyu of the Spring Breeze Pavilion."

Chen Ran looked at him and shook his head.

"That widow from the Spring Breeze Pavilion? I seem to recall her. I heard she never remarried after her husband died. You like her?"

Zhao San was stunned for a moment, then burst into loud laughter:

"No, I just want to tell her that her husband was 'done' to death by me back then."

"?"

Chen Ran stood up, his expression strange.

What was this guy saying?

The Flower-Picking Bee's tastes were truly heavy; not only did he harm women, but he even laid hands on men...

At the thought of that scene, Chen Ran felt a wave of goosebumps.

Chen Ran showed a wary expression, drew his saber, and said coldly:

"Unfortunately, I don't drink, and I don't deliver letters."

The light in Zhao San's eyes instantly vanished, replaced by endless venomous resentment.

"You... will die a horrible death!"

Chen Ran shrugged.

"I'll take that as a compliment, but I'll definitely live longer than you."

Chen Ran ignored Zhao San's curse and just watched him quietly.

The [heavenly book of prison suppression] slowly flipped; Zhao San was about to die.