Shen Yi arrived at the duty room courtyard at an unhurried pace.

Zhang Tuhu was crouched on the stone steps, yawning repeatedly, looking thoroughly uninterested in the world.

He looked up as someone approached. “What took you so long? Don’t tell me you were deliberately waiting until last so you could make a dramatic entrance for the Commanders.”

Shen Yi blinked slightly.

Reading his expression, Zhang Tuhu stood without urgency and offered consolation. “Heh — I had the same idea when I joined the Jingang School. These Demon Suppression people travel everywhere and see everything. One more capable practitioner isn’t going to stun them. Don’t be too disappointed.”

If the talent were truly exceptional, they wouldn’t have let him come alone in the first place.

“What are you talking about?” Shen Yi stopped walking.

“…”

Zhang Tuhu went quiet. When he spoke again it was with actual seriousness. “Two beats of the night watchman’s clapper last night — every soldier and constable in the county got called to the western district. Selection’s done. They’re doing the briefing at the yamen now.” He paused. “They didn’t forget you, did they?”

“Those unbelievable—” Zhang Tuhu muttered something unflattering, grabbed Shen Yi’s arm, and started pulling him toward the yamen.

The Demon Suppression Division wasn’t careless in its operations. Accidentally skipping someone wasn’t likely. Deliberately skipping someone was a different matter.

With Shen Yi’s ability — ordinary enough if he’d grown up in Qingzhou with the right resources behind him, but genuinely rare in a place like Baiyun County — if not for the uniform on his back, no sect would have turned him away at the door. On what grounds did they get to treat him this way?

Shen Yi kept his expression level, though he was genuinely puzzled. He’d run through many possible scenarios. This specific one hadn’t occurred to him.

The yamen was quiet now, only garrison soldiers keeping watch. Zhang Tuhu pushed straight through — his body refinement against ordinary fighters wasn’t a fair contest — until they were standing outside the main hall.

Two young men in black brocade with white jade belts stood with their arms folded, gold-thread wolves at the shoulder, eyes cold. “Halt.”

Zhang Tuhu stopped obediently and produced his most cooperative smile. The Demon Suppression Division wouldn’t move against him without reason — but that uniform still did something uncomfortable to his pulse.

He nudged Shen Yi with a shoulder. “What are you waiting for? Go in.”

“—not like a dressing-down is worth watching.”

One of the Commanders’ flat expressions had been quietly eroding. He rolled his eyes at Shen Yi with the expression of someone who’d had a long night. “Nothing better to do than come gawk? Some of us have been standing out here half-dead with sleep deprivation. The luxury of free time.”

Old Liu today was without the candy pole, and without the patched beggar’s clothes.

He stepped aside to make room, grumbling. “Go ahead. Just don’t get too close.”

Zhang Tuhu blinked at that.

He looked sideways.

Shen Yi appeared to be standing quietly, the same as Zhang Tuhu himself. Nothing unusual in his expression.

They know each other?

Inside the hall, Li Xinhan sat in the main seat with his eyes half-closed, expression giving nothing away.

Six physically capable young people stood in a line, hands clasped behind their backs, visibly tense — all in constable or garrison soldier dress.

The beggar, changed out of his disguise, looked like an entirely different person. Average features, but something sharp and vital in the way his eyes moved.

He paced slowly in front of the six, and when his gaze landed on Chen Ji — whose attention had drifted — one foot snapped out in a kick.

The reprimand was already forming on his lips.

He looked up, saw the familiar figure in the doorway, and the words quietly dissolved.

“Stand straight. Stop daydreaming.” He said it without energy and left it at that.

Old Liu allowed himself a quiet, resigned smile.

Standard procedure with new recruits was to first establish the Division’s aura of authority — mysterious, severe — and knock any arrogance out of them before it could cause trouble. But the beggar had taken a kick from the man he was supposed to be intimidating, just yesterday. There was nothing left to work with.

“Eight hundred soldiers, a hundred-odd constables — and you end up with six. Probably half of those will be sent back.” Zhang Tuhu shook his head.

It seemed like a small number, but these people had already been filtered once just by holding government posts — if nothing else, their physical baseline was above average. Six picked from the entire county.

And even making it into the Division meant becoming one of the medicine-bath trained foot soldiers. Few of that cohort ever distinguished themselves. The people in this room with cloud-band embroidery at their cuffs — they’d been selected from childhood, each cultivated according to their specific aptitude, individually trained. In the same cultivation realm, they outperformed ordinary practitioners by a wide margin.

Most sects didn’t have the resources to build anything like that.

Li Xinhan finally opened his eyes. His voice was flat. “Go collect your things. Departure for Qingzhou is tomorrow morning. You may bring one family member or attendant — give your names to the registrar and arrangements will be made. Personal belongings not to exceed eighty jin.”

At those words, the six finally let some of the tension out of their shoulders.

Two of the faces were recognizable.

Niu Da quietly dug his thumbnail into his thigh, wrestling with something. Only one person. Do I bring my brother to see the world… or the wife… Mother doesn’t have anyone to look after her either.

Chen Ji had put in three years of grinding and it had shown today — both his bladework and his fist technique at Minor Mastery, his Serpentine Eight Strides at Major Mastery, and the Thunder-Wind Scripture showing faint signs of breaching the first stage. Even a few of the Commanders had given him a second look.

He didn’t have Niu Da’s problem. Besides his sister, he had no other family to bring.

But his brow was still creased.

From the moment the garrison soldiers had come to his door until right now, he hadn’t seen Constable Shen. Surely the man hadn’t actually slept through this?

Then Li Xinhan rose from his seat.

He walked toward the doorway, each movement radiating a dense, pressurized qi.

Zhang Tuhu’s feet took half a step back without being asked. The forced smile he’d been maintaining for Old Liu became slightly less forced.

Three cloud-bands on the cuffs meant Jade Liquid Realm — almost certainly. Every band representing a count of demon corpses that would be difficult to total. And the man was young. Given time, he was destined for a command position guarding a region.

Just having that gaze sweep across him had put a patch of cold sweat between Zhang Tuhu’s shoulder blades.

Li Xinhan’s hand moved toward his belt.

He stood looking at Shen Yi. His flat expression began to develop complications — wrestling with itself, knotted, with something that might have been envy working through it, and something that might have been incomprehension underneath that.

It was difficult to imagine one face expressing so many things at once.

After a moment, Li Xinhan reached into his front and placed a banknote and a sealed letter of certification in Shen Yi’s hand without ceremony. “This seal will get you the cash value from any major Qingzhou money house.”

He turned and walked out without looking back.

The Baiyun County people and Zhang Tuhu stood in silence.

The yamen handing silver to the Demon Suppression Division was questionable conduct but followed a comprehensible logic.

The Demon Suppression Division handing silver to a county constable — that was genuinely unprecedented.

The Commanders who knew what was going on drifted over looking thoroughly entertained. They had clearly been waiting for this.

Old Liu gave Shen Yi a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t mind him. That’s just how he is. No ill intent behind it.” He paused. “Head back and get packed. We’ll escort you to Qingzhou.”

“Escort?” Shen Yi looked at the banknote — worth exactly a thousand taels — with the expression of someone who’d noticed that the arithmetic didn’t quite add up.

The beggar clicked his tongue, saying nothing about yesterday’s kick.

He just looked mildly put-out as he replied:

“Someone who’s about to become a personal disciple of the General — we’re not going to let you walk there yourself.”

(End of Chapter)