The accumulated ice flow in this inner prison, built up over years, was far beyond Chen Ji’s imagination. He hadn’t expected there to be so much ice flow in this inner prison!

As he walked through the inner prison’s corridors, he watched streams of ice flow merge into his body. His dantian, sealed by four furnace fires, began to waver precariously.

The grayish-white ice flow, like spectral dragons, emitted roars unheard by anyone else in the dim inner prison. They resembled resentful spirits, long trapped in their cages, seething with discontent and eager to consume Chen Ji entirely.

These were forces in this mysterious world, potent enough to transcend both power and authority, yet now they were being stripped away, bit by bit.

Chen Ji could feel a chill emanating from within his internal organs, but he dared not show any unusual reactions while in Yun Yang’s presence.

However, as he and Yun Yang passed a prison cell, Chen Ji noticed a Bagua formation diagram intricately carved into the base of an oil lamp on the wall.

Chen Ji suddenly recalled the Bagua formation diagrams beneath the oil-residue lamps he had seen earlier while descending the stairs. Each lamp, he realized, represented a prison: as long as the lamp remained lit, the person’s essence would not perish!

He quickly took down the oil lamp and held it in his palm.

Instantly, the ice flow within his dantian slowly receded, like a tide.

Chen Ji gasped softly, and Yun Yang, turning back in surprise, asked, “What are you doing with that lamp?”

He replied, “This inner prison is too dim; I’m not quite accustomed to it.”

Yun Yang scoffed, “I wouldn’t have thought someone audacious enough to bargain with me would also be afraid of the dark.”

Chen Ji didn’t answer. He was preoccupied with a single question: Did the ice flow not dissipate after a person died? Judging by the sheer quantity of ice flow he had just witnessed, it must have accumulated over a very long time.

Even if the Secret Police Department was utterly ruthless, they wouldn’t have killed so many people in such a short period.

It was the effect of the Bagua formation diagrams!

It was the Grand Secretary, concerned that too much killing might lead to being haunted by resentful spirits, who had arranged for the Bagua formation diagrams to confine these souls within the inner prison. This was how such a vast amount of ice flow had accumulated over the years.

Chen Ji, steadying his breath, said, “Lord Yun Yang, please bring me the case files to examine. To find clues, we don’t necessarily have to look only at current cases; many secrets might still be hidden in past ones.”

Yun Yang gestured to a secret police officer, saying, “Give them to him!”

When the secret police officers brought the case files, they were contained in a surprising number—over a dozen—large wooden chests.

Chen Ji casually picked up a volume, flipping through it as he surveyed the inner prison.

Yun Yang sat at a nearby table, drinking tea and waiting, while the secret police officers followed Chen Ji.

Chen Ji walked up to a cell door and asked, “Cell ‘Jia’ Twenty-Seven: was Liu Yaozu, the Assistant Prefect of Yuzhou, imprisoned here previously? Where is he now?”

The secret police officer hesitated, clearly unsure how to address the masked youth before him. After a moment, he whispered, “This… Esteemed Sir, if the file states ‘released,’ it means they left the inner prison alive. If nothing is written, it means they died inside.”

Chen Ji confirmed that Liu Yaozu had indeed died within the inner prison four years prior.

He then moved to another cell door and asked, “Cell ‘Jia’ Twenty-Eight: was Chen Mingzhuo, the Overseer of Craftsmanship for Luocheng, once held here?”

“Also dead,” the officer replied.

From that point on, Chen Ji stopped asking questions, instead silently reciting the information in his mind:

“Cell ‘Jia’ Fifty-Two: Xu Jiawen, Prefect of Guide Prefecture—deceased.”

“Cell ‘Yi’ One: Tian Hailong, County Magistrate of Shangcai County, Runing Prefecture—deceased; Xu Dehong, Assistant County Magistrate of Shangcai County—deceased…”

Reviewing the records, some cells indicated a single death, while others showed multiple.

The deeper Chen Ji delved into the records, the more alarmed he became. The case files in his hands were like the Book of Life and Death from the Palace of the King of Hell.

He continued flipping through the files. The inner prison had also housed some martial artists and ‘traveling officials’ (xingguan) who had blended into common society. However, no ice flow had emerged from the cells where these individuals were held.

He took a deep breath, finally grasping the pattern of the ice flow.

Those who generated ice flow after death shared only one commonality: they were officials!

The inner prison, buried deep underground, was like a massive graveyard. Countless individuals had perished in this sunless, dreadful place.

This was not merely the martial world; it was a place where both the martial world and the imperial court found their demise.

Chen Ji stood before a prison cell, the case files spread open in his hand, facing the dim, oppressive cage.

It took him about an hour to finally read through all the case files for the ‘Jia’ and ‘Yi’ series cells. He hadn’t yet looked at the remaining ‘Bing,’ ‘Ding,’ ‘Wu,’ ‘Ji,’ ‘Geng,’ ‘Xin,’ ‘Ren,’ and ‘Gui’ series, but he realized he didn’t need to.

Chen Ji even dared to make a bold deduction: the ice flow he had obtained that night at Wanxingyuan truly came from Consort Jing’s fetus, confirming that royal bloodlines possessed an inherent superiority from birth.

At this very moment, standing in the oppressive inner prison, Chen Ji felt a profound sense of absurdity.

His cultivation path, it seemed, put him in direct opposition to the entire Ning Dynasty. To advance his cultivation, officials and royal bloodlines had to die!

The Ning Dynasty, from its emperor to its lowest officials, wielded all the power of the realm.

And he, was he to become their enemy?

Yun Yang was right; he absolutely could not let anyone know the nature of his cultivation path… It was, without a doubt, extremely dangerous.

Yun Yang sat at a table, casually crossing one leg over the other and cracking melon seeds. Noticing Chen Ji had stopped to think in the corridor, he asked, “Have you found any clues?”

Chen Ji snapped out of his deep contemplation. “Not yet,” he replied.

Yun Yang frowned. “I personally came to fetch you, wasting an hour on the round trip, and now I’ve waited another hour for you, only for you to say there are no clues?”

Chen Ji had come for both the ice flow and the case files; both were now in his possession, but he couldn’t simply leave.

He pondered for a moment before asking, “How did Liu Shiyu die? Did you kill him?”

Yun Yang shook his head. “No, he couldn’t endure the torture and hanged himself.”

Chen Ji frowned. “Is his body still in the inner prison?”

“Yes. Do you wish to see it?” Yun Yang’s interest was piqued. He tossed the melon seeds from his palm onto the table. “I’ll take you.”

Yun Yang led Chen Ji deeper into the inner prison. They descended several more flights of stairs and passed through multiple levels before finally reaching the deepest section. Chen Ji could even hear the sound of an underground river flowing.

“There, inside. It’s just Liu Shiyu’s body,” Yun Yang said, stepping in with a torch held high.

Liu Shiyu appeared to be around thirty years old. His body was slender, his skin fair, his face stark white, his tongue protruding, and he showed signs of incontinence.

These were typical signs of death by hanging, with no apparent anomalies.

Upon seeing the body, Chen Ji held his breath, feeling a profound sense of discomfort.

Yun Yang scoffed playfully, “I thought you were truly omnipotent. How can you not even bear to look at a corpse?”

Chen Ji composed himself. “Lord Yun Yang, being able to indifferently examine the corpse of a fellow human is not something to boast about,” he stated. “Liu Shiyu did not commit suicide; he was murdered to silence him.”

Yun Yang shook his head. “This time you are mistaken. I have killed many people, so I have more experience in these matters. All his death signs are consistent with hanging: I’ve assisted many in hanging themselves, and those who hang typically have pale faces, protruding tongues, and incontinence. There’s no mistaking that. You might be wondering if he was strangled first and then hanged? No, a person strangled to death has a purplish-red face; I’m quite familiar with that as well.”

“Theoretically, Lord Yun Yang is correct,” Chen Ji conceded with a nod.

“Hmm?” Yun Yang looked puzzled.

Chen Ji explained, “But these signs can all be faked.”

Death by hanging occurs when the carotid arteries are obstructed, leading to oxygen deprivation in the brain.

Because the carotid arteries are instantly blocked while the veins can still temporarily function, individuals who die by hanging have pale faces. In contrast, those strangled to death have purplish-red faces.

The person who murdered Liu Shiyu to silence him must have understood these principles, thus fabricating the illusion of death by hanging. The tongue can be forced out, acupuncture can induce incontinence, and precisely constricting the carotid sinus can result in a pale face.

The killer was a professional at fabricating suicides, but they overlooked one crucial detail: the feet.

Chen Ji explained, “When someone dies by hanging, their toes point downwards, almost perpendicular to the ground. Rigor mortis sets in within two hours, and even if the body is taken down, this position will remain. But look at Liu Shiyu: before he was strangled, his legs struggled and kicked forcefully, leaving his two feet fixed in different directions.”

After listening, Yun Yang’s expression turned thoughtful. “Is that so… Come, let’s return to the ‘Jia’ series level. Bring over a death row prisoner, and we’ll test it out!”

Chen Ji and the others returned to the upper level, where he watched two secret police officers drag a death row prisoner over.

The death row prisoner had already soiled his pants before even being hanged.

Yun Yang sat by the table, cracking melon seeds and scoffing, “These are the civil officials of my Ning Dynasty: seemingly unyielding on the surface, but utterly fragile in reality.”

Chen Ji hesitated. “Lord Yun Yang, what was his crime?”

“Colluding with the enemy and betraying the nation, privately forging household registers and travel permits for Jing Dynasty spies,” Yun Yang replied, turning to the secret police officers. “Hang him from the ceiling; I want to observe!”

Chen Ji wanted to say something, but ultimately chose to remain silent.

The next moment, the secret police officers placed a rope around the death row prisoner’s neck, hung him from the ceiling, and kicked away the stool beneath his feet.

Within a few short seconds, the death row prisoner became completely motionless.

Everyone waited as the body hung before them. Yun Yang, however, nonchalantly drank tea and cracked melon seeds, as if it were not a human being but a mere pig suspended there.

Chen Ji, for his part, focused solely on flipping through the case files, using this to pass the time.

Two hours later, the secret police officers took the body down from the ceiling. Indeed, just as Chen Ji had predicted, the toes were rigidly straight.

Yun Yang clapped his hands in admiration. “Before, we simply hung people up but never took them down. I never noticed this crucial detail!” he exclaimed.

Chen Ji calmly stated, “Someone wanted to silence Liu Shiyu, which indicates a larger figure behind him. More than one person in the Liu family is colluding with the enemy; Liu Mingxian of the Second Branch and Liu Mingde of the First Branch are both under suspicion.”

Yun Yang frowned. “Liu Gun will be returning to Luocheng in a few days. Without evidence, wouldn’t it be unwise for me to provoke the Minister of Personnel right now? You’re not trying to trick me into jumping into a fire pit, are you?”

Inside the room, Chen Ji held the oil-residue lamp, its flame flickering in his eyes. “How could that be?” he responded. “I’m still hoping for Lord Yun Yang to promote me. But earlier, Lord Yun Yang also spoke of the harm Jing Dynasty spies inflict on frontline soldiers. Why are you now prioritizing your own safety?”

Yun Yang sighed. “One must always learn from their mistakes. Before, I only knew how to kill. I’ve only held this Twelve Zodiac position for half a year; it would be a shame to lose it now… The official world is not easy.”

Chen Ji looked at Yun Yang, asking sincerely, “Lord Yun Yang, you and Lord Jiao Tu excel at killing. The Grand Secretary is exceptionally intelligent, so why would he assign you to do something you’re not skilled at?”

Yun Yang looked confused. “Indeed… Did the Grand Secretary perhaps intend to use our penchant for killing to eliminate the Liu family? If the Grand Secretary sent us here specifically to kill, then how should I…”

He instinctively picked up the teapot, intending to pour Chen Ji a cup of tea, but then he paused, realizing, “Wait, I’ve only ever poured tea for the Grand Secretary before!”

He placed the teapot back on the table. “But even now that we know someone murdered Liu Shiyu to silence him, it’s still difficult to find leverage against the Liu family. How should I proceed with the investigation?”

Chen Ji shook his head. “Currently, there are too few clues, and I have no good suggestions. However, Lord Yun Yang, don’t you find Old Master Liu’s death incredibly suspicious? The moment he died, you immediately found yourselves on the defensive. My master was invited to diagnose his illness, but his carriage broke down halfway, preventing him from ever seeing Old Master Liu.”

A flash of insight struck Yun Yang. “Old Master Liu might very well still be alive!” he exclaimed.