The beggar had said it so casually.

Chen Ji and the others didn’t quite register it at first.

Zhang Tuhu, on the other hand, snapped out of his bewilderment and reached down to pinch his own stomach — hard.

Hss. Not a hallucination.

But — why?

Zhang Tuhu wasn’t the envious type. He genuinely just couldn’t make it add up.

He didn’t follow court politics closely, but the Qingzhou General occupied a tier of existence equivalent to the grandmasters of the major sects — and the Demon Suppression Division already stood above the jianghu in status entirely. Within Qingzhou, what the General said was what happened.

For ordinary practitioners, the General was the kind of figure who appeared in storytellers’ performances — a name dropped for dramatic effect, not someone with any connection to one’s actual life.

And now here was someone he’d been sitting next to.

“Don’t go spreading that around,” Old Liu said sharply, turning a look on the beggar.

Saying things like that before anything was settled — spending too long with beggars had apparently dissolved any sense of discretion.

He shook his head and looked back at Shen Yi, smiling ruefully. “The message to the General did mention something along those lines. But the General travels constantly — no one knows when she’ll be back. Even when she does return—” he paused, “—don’t get your hopes up too high.”

Old Liu was a straightforward man. He didn’t want an exceptional prospect to fall apart because the gap between expectation and reality turned out to be too wide.

He glanced sideways. Zhang Tuhu read the look, scratched his head, and wandered into the hall to chat with Chen Ji and the others.

“Deputy Commander Lin was affected by demon arts — she’s already been escorted out of Baiyun County to find the General. She won’t be returning to Qingzhou for the time being.”

Old Liu kept his voice low. “Once you’re in the Division, everyone there has your back in a fight — they’ll take a blade for you. But they don’t like watching someone leap over their heads on day one. Especially newcomers. Human nature. Bear with it.”

Brief and to the point. Less a warning than a heads-up.

Shen Yi thought it over for a moment and heard the meaning clearly.

The ability he’d deliberately shown in front of Lin Baixi had done exactly what he’d intended.

But there was always a cost.

The smiles on the faces around him were genuine enough on the surface. Underneath — probably less so than they appeared.

These were people who bought their results with their lives.

If he walked in carrying himself like someone who’d jumped the queue by finding the right patron — and if his backing turned out to be less solid than assumed — he’d have made enemies before he’d started.

“Li Xinhan wants us to bring you back the normal way. Process as usual. Don’t let anything slip. Wait for the two commanders to return before anything gets arranged.”

Old Liu said his piece and stopped there.

Li Xinhan had a difficult personality, but his intentions weren’t bad. If Shen Yi had his own thinking about the situation, or felt that they were trying to suppress him — well, that was what needed saying, and the rest was up to him.

“I don’t have any objections.”

Shen Yi shook his head.

His reasons for joining the Division were practical. First: a backing that gave him access to information about demons — so that instead of operating blind beyond the county walls, he’d actually know what was out there. Second: martial arts and rare medicines.

With enough demon lifespan in reserve, the right resources and techniques would get him further than grinding alone ever could. Compared to those concrete benefits, an empty title that currently only invited trouble wasn’t something he placed much value on.

And as Old Liu had said — even if there were benefits to claim, they’d have to wait for someone to come back before they could be claimed.

Old Liu had been quietly watching his expression throughout.

What he saw was clear eyes, a mouth saying he had no objections, and a face that genuinely didn’t seem to care.

That surprised him more than he’d expected.

Everyone understood that a promise of pie didn’t fill the stomach. But when an opportunity this large landed in someone’s lap — even if nine-tenths of it turned out to be air — how many people could look at it and feel nothing?

There was one other possibility, of course. The man had already eaten the pie.

“God help us — you didn’t actually get somewhere with Deputy Commander Lin last night?” Old Liu’s teeth came together as the memory of that oversized robe surfaced. The conviction he’d been maintaining wavered.

The men behind him shoved him immediately to the ground. “Have you completely lost your mind?!”

Spreading rumors about a demon hunter — if any of those practitioners who spent their days crawling through demon dens ever heard about it, they’d skin this man alive.

“We’re here on assignment — just passing through Baiyun County, and we’re running short on time. Go home and get packed. You can travel back with us.”

The beggar pressed Old Liu’s face into the dirt and offered Shen Yi an apologetic smile.

Outside the yamen.

The newly selected recruits were gripping their fists with barely-contained excitement.

In a world overrun by demons, having martial skill behind you was the fastest path to being taken seriously that existed. They were ordinary constables and soldiers today — but if they passed the Division’s training trials, the next time they came back to Baiyun County, even the county magistrate would receive them with courtesy.

At that thought, their eyes drifted toward the young man ahead of them.

Nobody was blind or deaf. They hadn’t caught much of what the Commanders had said to him — but the tone alone told them everything.

Constable Shen was not going through trials alongside the rest of them.

Asking to trade on the connection now would be awkward — but at least sharing a hometown gave them something. A thin thread of familiarity was better than nothing once they were inside the Division’s walls.

“Boss — I need to go home and spend some time with my mother. Console the wife a bit too.”

Niu Da, having fewer complicated thoughts than most, scratched at his belt and was already half-turned to leave.

Chen Ji had long since stopped being surprised by Shen Yi. He thought that even if the General really did take him as a disciple, it wouldn’t be worth raising an eyebrow over. Trial period or direct entry — it was only a matter of time.

“Sir—” He clasped his hands.

“That’s enough of that.” Shen Yi had sorted through his thoughts. He waved it off.

Finally getting out of this uniform. Some kind of reckoning, at least, with everything the predecessor had left behind.

Once he was no longer a constable, sir had no place in the vocabulary.

He watched Niu Da’s retreating back and felt something stir.

Leaving home was supposed to bring a kind of melancholy. Shen Yi made a genuine effort to locate some.

He thought about it carefully. No family to say goodbye to. No house to remember. The side room he’d been sleeping in belonged to the yamen anyway.

There were two people he could actually call friends. One was coming with him. The other—

He glanced back at Zhang Tuhu, who was grinning and falling into step behind him — and he remembered the man mentioning something about going back to Qingzhou to visit an old flame.

Right. The other one was probably coming too.

He couldn’t exactly go say farewell to the Azure Scale Matriarch.

“Let’s go eat somewhere proper.” Shen Yi shook the banknote in his hand.

“Absolutely — I’ve been eating tasteless garbage for weeks. And let’s get three musicians while we’re at it.” Zhang Tuhu slapped his stomach with enthusiasm.

“…”

Who brings a banknote to a restaurant.

Chen Ji reached into his belt, pulled out the silver ingot, and sighed. “Two is enough. I’m fine without.”

“No trouble at all — I’ll use two.” Zhang Tuhu clapped him on the shoulder with great generosity.

(End of Chapter)