"Excuse me... could you carry me another way? Maybe on your back?"
Chen Kuang held back for three whole seconds in the arms of the Black Armored Guard.
But in the end, he couldn't resist anymore. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he asked politely.
Qingcuo lowered his head and glanced at him.
"Why?"
"..."
It wasn't about dignity but seriously, a princess carry? That was... a bit too much between two grown men.
Did this guy not feel weird about this at all?
Alright, maybe ancient folks were more conservative and maybe, they didn't even have the concept of "man-on-man" issues...
Thinking this way, and seeing how naturally Qingcuo held him, Chen Kuang decided not to push it.
Qingcuo noticed he'd gone quiet and thought for a moment before saying,
"Is it hurting? That's because your legs are broken. Not because I'm carrying you the wrong way."
Chen Kuang: "?"
Excuse me?
Did this guy really think I was complaining that he wasn't gentle enough?
What kind of brain do you need to misunderstand excruciating bone pain as a posture issue?
"Just to clarify," Chen Kuang said, "There are three kinds of disability: deformity, paralysis, and terminal illness. I'm blind, not stupid."
"I know."
"Then you think I wouldn't realize my own legs are broken?"
"I was afraid you didn't."
"..."
Chen Kuang took a deep breath and forced out a smile. "Well... thanks for your concern."
Qingcuo replied calmly, "You're welcome."
Chen Kuang finally understood, this guy was a total blockhead who didn't understand any form of nuance.
He gave up arguing, fell silent, and endured the pain. Fortunately, this little exchange had helped him adjust to the worst of it.
But Qingcuo glanced at his pale face and the tense muscles around his jaw, and surprisingly asked,
"So... you really did know your legs were broken?"
Chen Kuang didn't answer.
Qingcuo said mildly, "I thought maybe you didn't feel pain. With breaks like these, most people would have passed out."
His gaze stayed calm. "But you didn't even make a sound."
Chen Kuang's brows twitched.
Before he could respond, a new guard ahead called out respectfully:
"Sir! What... what's going on here?"
"Open the gate."
The newly assigned jailer had been puzzled at the sight of the Black Armored Guard carrying a man like a princess, until he noticed the crimson blood soaking through the hem of Chen Kuang's robes and staining both legs.
Instantly, he fell silent and rushed to open the heavy iron gate.
As Qingcuo stepped inside, a horrifying trail of blood trailed behind him.
Chu Wenruo, alarmed by the noise, immediately rushed to the cell's edge, eyes glistening with tears as she peered outside.
Earlier, Qingcuo had ruthlessly executed two jailers, then taken away the one man she had been clinging to for hope, leaving this gentle woman terrified.
She had called out helplessly as Chen Kuang was taken, her voice full of despair.
Now, seeing him return, her heart soared... only to freeze as her eyes locked onto the gruesome bloodstains.
When Qingcuo laid Chen Kuang down near the bars that separated them, she slowly approached, trembling.
Her delicate fingers reached through the bars and gently wiped the cold sweat from his brow.
"Mr. Chen..." she whispered, tears cascading down her cheeks. Her lowered eyes reddened further, and her whole demeanor radiated guilt and sorrow.
She couldn't begin to imagine how much pain he must've endured. Her heart clenched as though it had been crushed in a giant's fist.
"I'm so sorry... Mr. Chen... I misunderstood... It's my fault..."
What now? Chen Kuang sighed inwardly.
"It's fine. This has nothing to do with you," he replied softly.
From his pouch, Qingcuo pulled a small porcelain vial and sprinkled medicinal powder over Chen Kuang's mangled legs.
Chu Wenruo suddenly grew frantic. She lashed out with fire in her voice:
"You bastards, if you want to hurt someone, come at me!"
She clawed at Qingcuo's back, shouting, "Don't touch him! He's done nothing! I'm the Liang Consort, interrogate me!"
Qingcuo said flatly, "It's medicine."
She froze mid-motion. An awkward silence settled over them.
If not for the pain twisting his features, Chen Kuang probably would've burst out laughing.
Qingcuo stood and added, "It's just for surface wounds. Your legs are... done for."
Chen Kuang fell quiet.
Qingcuo glanced once more at Chu Wenruo but said no more and turned to leave.
The jailer locked the gate behind him.
Chen Kuang moved his eyeballs. He wanted to open his eyes but found the lids gummed shut with sweat. He gave up and lay still.
He took a deep breath, smiled faintly, and said,
"It's fine now."
"These next seven days... should be peaceful."
Chu Wenruo forced down her emotions and asked hoarsely,
"Seven days... Mr. Chen, was this the price you paid?"
Chen Kuang shook his head, reaching down to touch his legs.
He could feel the muscle and bone already beginning to regenerate rapidly.
He grinned. "This is just the beginning."
He hadn't bartered for mere survival.
He'd prepared for injury the moment he decided to face Li Hongling.
Compared to what he expected, this was nothing. It was almost too easy.
With the [Flesh Reishi] passive, so long as the wounds weren't fatal, he would heal quickly.
But his greatest fear wasn't death, it was being discovered. If his body was seen as some miracle medicine, he could end up imprisoned and harvested.
What he lacked now... was strength.
He hoped these seven days would allow him to gather enough passives, and that Huo Hengxuan truly had a plan.
Perhaps because Li Hongling wanted to "teach him a lesson," the rest of the day passed with no food, no drink, no music, nothing.
Chen Kuang didn't mind. He quietly meditated on the Wither-Bloom Sword Manual, though it was obscure and frustrating.
Trying to comprehend a top-tier sword technique with zero guidance was more than maddening.
At dusk, Huo Hengxuan was finally returned.
It was the same scene again, but this time, the jailers were different.
Their attitude was far more cautious, no shoves, no insults.
Huo Hengxuan raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Dragged in chains, he was dumped back into his now-clean cell, only to see Chen Kuang beside him.
He blinked, moved over, stared for a long moment, then burst out laughing.
"Hahaha, so that's all you've got?"
"All that big talk, and you come back a cripple!"
"You think I'll believe in you now? Pah! What a joke!"
The old man laughed until tears streamed down his face, soaking into his tangled white hair.
It was absurd, almost comical, but for some reason, it felt tragic, too.
Chen Kuang waited until he finished. Then he looked up calmly and asked,
"Oh? Then tell me, have you seen the faces of all the jailers lately?"
Huo Hengxuan froze.
He thought back.
Every guard... had been replaced.
The old man's pupils shrank. He turned sharply to glare at Chen Kuang.
"No way..."
"The previous jailers?"
"Dead."
"All five?"
"All. You didn't say how many to kill."
Huo Hengxuan was silent for a long time. Then he muttered,
"You... how did you do it?"
Chen Kuang was thoroughly enjoying the old bastard's stunned expression.
Opening his eyes, he looked at him with blood-smeared, sweat-soaked amusement.
"You tell me."