Proving God begins with the principle that no effort is wasted.

Chapter 28 Breaking the Prison

Jiang Lan stood in the center of the cell, his upper body muscles tense, blood from his old wounds flowing down his forearms and dripping onto the ground.

His eyes were fixed on the cell door, his ears listening to the stone wall—they were almost there on both sides.

The old prisoner huddled in the corner, his cloudy eyes filled with terror, his lips trembling, not daring to utter a single word. San'er buried his face in his knees, his whole body shaking like a leaf, even his breath was suppressed in his throat, letting out a soft sob.

"Click."

A piece of gravel fell from a crevice in the stone wall, landed on the ground, and rolled to Jiang Lan's feet.

Then, the sound of the lock turning stopped. Outside the cell door, a key was inserted into the lock and turning. Not one key, but two—the keys to the lock and the shackles were linked together, making a clanging sound.

Jiang Lan took a deep breath, pushing the stale air out of his lungs. He clenched his right fist, his nails digging into an old wound on his palm, the pain making his mind even clearer.

The blood and qi surged within the body, but after two full days of hunger, the blood and qi were like a dried-up riverbed, and no matter how much you squeezed, you couldn't get much water out.

He only has one chance to make a move.

"Crunch—"

The prison door opened.

A dark figure darted in from outside the door, carrying a short knife, the tip of which gleamed coldly in the darkness.

His footsteps were very light; it was the jailer with the injured left leg—no, not a jailer, his leg wasn't lame, his stride was even, he was imitating the lame jailer's footsteps, fooling his ears.

To make matters worse, there was another person following him—a second person.

Two assassins?!

Jiang Lan's pupils suddenly contracted—there were two cell doors and one stone wall.

Before he could think, the first assassin's knife came crashing down, a full-force strike aimed straight for his neck.

Jiang Lan dodged to the side, the blade grazing his shoulder and cutting a gash, blood splattering everywhere. He endured the pain, grabbed the assassin's wrist with his left hand, twisted it sharply, and slammed his right fist, brimming with explosive power, into the assassin's elbow joint.

"Click—"

The sound of bones cracking echoed in the cramped cell!

The assassin's arm snapped in the opposite direction, and before he could even scream, Jiang Lan's second punch arrived—Tiger Strike—smashing into his throat.

The assassin grunted, his eyes widened, and he fell backward, the dagger slipping from his hand and landing on the ground with a clang.

The Qi and blood in the two acupoints were squeezed to the limit in that instant. Jiang Lan's fist trembled, his tiger's mouth split open, and blood flowed down between his fingers.

He had no time to catch his breath, because the second assassin had already pounced on him from the side!

Instead of using a knife, he spread his arms wide, like a mad boar, and charged directly at Jiang Lan.

The cell was too narrow, and Jiang Lan had nowhere to hide. He was grabbed around the waist and slammed hard against the stone wall!

The old wound on his back reopened, and blood flowed down the stone wall. Jiang Lan groaned, the back of his head hitting the rock, and his vision went black.

The assassin tightened his grip around his waist, his ribs creaking as if they were about to snap.

Jiang Lan gritted her teeth, reached for the short knife on the ground with her right hand, and stabbed it into the assassin's thigh with a backhand motion.

The assassin screamed in pain, his arm instantly loosening. Jiang Lan broke free and kicked him in the knee, sending the assassin crashing to his knees.

Jiang Lan didn't have time to finish him off because he heard the sound of the stone wall behind him collapsing.

Gravel flew everywhere, and a tall, dark figure emerged from a hole in the wall.

He carried no iron shovel, only a pair of iron finger guards, with copper nails embedded in his knuckles, gleaming coldly in the darkness. He was a head taller than the first two assassins, broad-shouldered and thick-backed, like a moving stone wall.

"Two useless pieces of trash, can't even handle a second hole." His voice was muffled behind his mask. "Get out of here!"

The assassin, who was kneeling on the ground, scrambled to the side.

Jiang Lan gripped the short knife tightly, took a step back, and slammed his back against the stone wall, finding himself with nowhere to retreat.

Iron Fist Gloves slowly approached, each step landing on Jiang Lan's heartbeat. He stood before Jiang Lan, looking down at him as if he were a chicken waiting to be slaughtered.

"So you're the kid who killed Ding Qi?" His voice was laced with contempt. "Second acupoint? Hmph, Ding Qi's death at your hands is a disgrace to him."

Jiang Lan did not answer, and instead stabbed him in the abdomen.

Without even dodging, he punched the blade, sending the short sword flying from his hand, hitting the stone wall, and bouncing to the ground. Jiang Lan's hand was shattered, and his entire right arm went numb.

Iron Gloves reached out and grabbed Jiang Lan by the neck, lifted him up, and then slammed him to the ground.

Jiang Lan's back slammed onto the slippery stone slab, his internal organs felt like they had been turned inside out, and a metallic taste rose in his throat.

The iron-clad man stomped on his chest, the iron nails on the sole of his boot digging into his flesh, causing his ribs to creak under the strain.

"Is that all you've got?" He lowered his head, his voice sounding like it came from hell. "I thought you'd be much harder to kill."

He raised his foot and kicked Jiang Lan in the side again. Jiang Lan flew up, crashed into the opposite stone wall, slid down, and lay on the ground, unable to get up for a long time.

Blood dripped from his mouth onto the ground, mixing with the turbid fluid.

He tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn't obey him. He wanted to throw a punch, but he couldn't lift his arms. His energy and blood were completely depleted; even turning over was difficult.

Iron Fist Gloves walked over, squatted down, grabbed his hair, and lifted his face off the ground.

"Any last words?"

Jiang Lan looked at him, blood and foam dripping from the corner of her mouth. He didn't speak, his right hand quietly reaching into the lining of his belt—the sharpened iron hairpin with the dart head was still there.

The iron gauntlet raised its fist, the copper nails gleaming coldly in the darkness, aimed at Jiang Lan's temple—

It's now!

Jiang Lan suddenly raised her hand and, with the last bit of strength in her body, drove the iron hairpin into his throat.

Iron Fist's eyes widened, a gurgling sound came from his throat, and blood gushed from his wound, splattering all over Jiang Lan's face. His fist remained suspended in mid-air, not falling.

Jiang Lan pulled out the iron hairpin and stabbed him again.

The iron fist gloves loosened his hair, he clutched his throat with both hands, and fell backward. He twitched twice on the ground, then lay still.

Jiang Lan lay in a pool of blood, gasping for breath. Each breath was tinged with the metallic taste of blood, and his ribs ached as if they were about to break. He stared at the stone slab above him, which was spinning, and the torchlight flickered.

He is not dead; he is still alive.

The old prisoner huddled in the corner, staring at the three corpses on the ground, his eyes wide like saucers, his mouth agape, unable to utter a single word. The third son buried his face in his knees, trembling like a leaf, too afraid to even cry out.

Jiang Lan leaned against the stone wall and slowly stood up. Blood was flowing from the wound on his left shoulder, the web of his right arm was split open, and he didn't know how many ribs were broken. Every step he took felt like walking on knife points. He walked to the cell door, took the key from the first assassin, and unlocked it.

He pushed open the door and went out.

The corridor was deserted; there were no jailers, no reinforcements. The Zhao family had bribed them; no one would come tonight.

He leaned against the wall, took a few breaths, and was about to walk forward—

Footsteps could be heard at the end of the corridor.

The torchlight shone from around the corner, illuminating the entire corridor. The footsteps were heavy, thumping loudly on the stone steps like the beating of drums.

Jiang Lan clenched his fists, his muscles tense. He no longer had the strength to fight; he could barely stand.

The torchlight grew brighter, and the footsteps drew closer. From around the corner, a troop of soldiers rushed out, led by a man in the uniform of an officer from the Armed Forces Department, with a scar on his face. He carried a crossbow, already cocked.

Behind him was a man named Liu Changqing.

When Coach Liu saw Jiang Lan covered in blood and leaning against the wall, he stopped abruptly, his face turning ashen. He strode over, grabbed Jiang Lan, and looked her up and down.

"Where are you injured?"

"Several ribs... are broken." Jiang Lan's voice was very soft, as if squeezed out from her throat. "Her left shoulder was pierced... her right arm's web of the hand was split open..."

Instructor Liu's brows furrowed into a tight knot. He turned to the scarred man: "Zhou Tieshan, I'm taking him away."

The scarred man glanced at the three corpses in the corridor, then at Jiang Lan, paused for a moment, and waved his hand.

The soldiers behind them made way for them.

Jiang Lan took a few steps, then suddenly stopped and turned to look at Zhou Tieshan: "In the next cell... there are still people from the Black Tiger Gang. They were let in by the Zhao family... to kill me."

Zhou Tieshan glanced at him and waved his hand behind him: "Search. Search every single room."

Jiang Lan stopped talking and followed Instructor Liu out of the prison.

The moment I stepped out of the dungeon, the moonlight shone on me, chilling me to the bone.

Jiang Lan stood on the steps, took a deep breath. There was no stench or blood in the night air, only a slight chill.

He looked down at his hands, where dried blood was embedded between his fingers, its dark red color glaringly obvious.

"Master, the Zhao family's accounts..."

"I know," Coach Liu interrupted him, "That's why I want you to come out alive."

Jiang Lan nodded and said nothing more. He followed Instructor Liu down the steps, where the carriage stopped by the roadside. Sun Gengsan jumped down from the carriage, and upon seeing Jiang Lan's appearance, his eyes instantly reddened. His lips trembled for a long time before he could only utter, "You...you're still alive..."

"I won't die." Jiang Lan forced a smile as Coach Liu helped her into the car.

The carriage started moving, its wheels rumbling over the flagstones. Jiang Lan leaned against the carriage floor, her eyes closed, and fell asleep.

The carriage sped through the night, heading towards Yu City.

The prison door behind me slowly closed in the moonlight.