Having caught a glimpse of hope after so long, Zhang Xuan had no patience left to wait.

He grabbed Jiang He and shouldered his way through the crowd.

"Hey, watch it!"

The people who'd been queuing for ages shot him irritated looks, but one glance at the grim black armor on the man was enough — they rolled their eyes and let it go without a word.

"Excuse me, pardon me."

Zhang Xuan bowed apologetically to the crowd on all sides, then stepped through into the offices.

Liu Kun had just set down his brush. He looked up and found himself staring at that long-suffering face. "..."

He groaned inwardly.

Song Prefecture came to the War Temple for aid practically every six months like clockwork, and every time they scraped together enough merit to make the trip to the capital, the first words out of Zhang Xuan's mouth were about the demon troubles back home. The man was basically a fixture at this point.

"For reporting merit, the queue's around the back..."

Liu Kun sighed internally, already composing a vague brush-off, but before he'd finished the sentence, he watched Zhang Xuan wordlessly yank the person behind him forward.

Jiang He gave a sheepish grin and scratched the back of his head.

Liu Kun went quiet for a moment, recognizing the man at a glance as a War Temple disciple. This particular crowd was complicated to deal with at the best of times.

Pushed along by Zhang Xuan's nudging, Jiang He spoke up, somewhat reluctantly. "I — I'm acquainted with Commander Shen. Would you be able to put in a word for us, younger brother?"

Hearing the notable lack of confidence in those words, Zhang Xuan's heart sank immediately.

Of course. Just empty boasting, as usual.

But with no other options available, he could only stare blankly at Liu Kun, seated behind the counter.

"..."

Liu Kun sighed, stood up, and walked toward the curtain. "Wait here. I'll go inform the Commander."

He stood outside and murmured a few words, then got a quick answer.

"Send them in."

"Understood."

Shen Yi…