Night. The campfire burned bright.

It lit several faces in the circle.

The remaining Commanders cycled through watch positions, eyes sharp, not missing the slightest movement.

“Can it actually come to a fight?” Wang Meng rubbed his hands together with some unease. “Shouldn’t — right? Why would the Qingfeng Mountain Sect Master risk everything against General Chen just for one disciple?”

“The disciple most likely to inherit the Sect Master’s position.” Liu Daqian corrected him. “Half of Qingfeng Mountain’s reputation as a righteous sect for the past century was built on his kills. He’s a genuine sword-hero.”

“Could someone like that really be a flood dragon in human form?”

Wang Meng clicked his tongue and lowered his voice. “If he is — doesn’t that still count as turning over a new leaf?”

“Hey!” Liu Daqian kicked him.

General Chen was here to kill a demon. Defending the demon was one step short of treason.

“Though,” another Commander leaned in, “he had so many wives and concubines, and they kept getting carried off by demons. He had a reputation as a hero. What if the Yangchun flood dragons had a grudge against him, used his absence to force themselves on his concubine, and planted the child to humiliate him on purpose?”

“Either way, hand the person over, bring them back to the Division for questioning — everything becomes clear then.”

Liu Daqian looked at both colleagues with exhausted tolerance. “What if they simply won’t? When General Chen decides he’s tired of waiting, Qingfeng Mountain gets renamed Blood Peak Mountain.”

“I was terrified coming in, but now it feels like we landed lucky.” Wang Meng grinned. “From what Deputy Commander Hong said, the Sect Master is only going to drag this out another day or two. And we’ve got two Jade Liquid practitioners with us — nothing’s going seriously wrong!”

Several pairs of eyes drifted toward the young man standing nearby.

Shen Yi was following the conversation while his eyes moved steadily across the dark forest ahead.

Can it really not come to a fight?

Then what was she so unsettled about?

Hand over the swordsman, and the Division withdraws from the mountain. Qingfeng Mountain keeps its name as Qingzhou’s first sword sect. What was there to be anxious about?

Time moved.

Several Commanders rose for their rotation. The returning ones ate quickly and went to the tents.

Dai Bing came back from the forest with her sword, seeming to have no appetite. She sat by the fire.

She noticed the figure leaning against the tree begin to move, and said quietly:

“You haven’t closed your eyes all night. Is Hong Lei having you watch me?”

Shen Yi walked without answering.

“Afraid of letting one person slip away.” A self-mocking note. “You really want to raise your hand against innocent people — no, not just innocent. These are sword-heroes who’ve spent their lives killing demons.”

He kept walking.

She grew slightly urgent, fingers closing around the three bands at her cuff. “I’ve spent twenty years working for the Division. Isn’t that worth one moment of your trust?”

Shen Yi glanced sideways. “I trust you.”

“…”

She exhaled unevenly, momentarily lost — then heard the second half.

“That would just make me a fool.”

He stepped into the damp forest and was gone.

She might as well have had the thoughts written on her face. Chen Ji could have read it at a glance.

Shen Yi didn’t make a habit of forming conclusions before he understood what was actually happening.

The one thing he knew was this: through all the rumors and explanations people had offered, the swordsman himself had never given any account of how a concubine climbed into the Linjiang yamen, bore a flood dragon in front of witnesses, and was then consumed down to nothing.

Even a random Commander could invent a plausible explanation. The swordsman hadn’t bothered.

He’d simply remained on the mountain, behind Qingfeng Mountain’s protection, continuing to face down the Division without a word.

He was apparently willing to die before letting anyone know he’d been cuckolded.

Oh — and nearly forgot.

There was one other thing Shen Yi knew.

He pressed his lips together and brought a hand to his chest.

That familiar quality. Faint, but unbroken, from the first moment he’d arrived.

Whether the swordsman was a flood dragon or not — there was certainly a flood dragon somewhere on Qingfeng Mountain.

And he could feel it.

The question was whether the sensing was one-directional, or whether the other side could feel him too.

For that alone, this trip had been worth making.

Days and nights turned. Three days slipped past.

The Commanders pulled rabbits and pheasants out of the forest. No Qingfeng Mountain disciples.

Hundreds of sect members, and not a single unusual movement. The Elder of Fury Sword on the cliff sat like a dead tree — even his thin silver hair hadn’t shifted. It seemed his only purpose in appearing had been to hold Sword-Viewing Gorge and spare the sect the indignity of being walked over.

Wang Meng grilled the chicken on flat stones.

He passed the first piece to Shen Yi. The second to Dai Bing.

Two Jade Liquid practitioners were the foundation their survival rested on. They couldn’t fight hungry.

“…”

Shen Yi chewed the bland, faintly gamey meat and found himself thinking of Lin Baixi.

No wonder she could find joy in almost anything edible. Half a year of this and he’d probably be capable of learning her recipes.

Beside him, Dai Bing ate without expression, one hand on the scabbard.

She seemed to be filling herself as completely as she could.

That familiar quality.

Shen Yi glanced involuntarily at her cuff.

The other things might be set aside — but twenty years of hard service was a genuine loss.

The flat stones came off the fire. The oil pooled and cooled. The campfire dimmed slightly.

Several Commanders rose as usual for the forest patrol.

Then Shen Yi’s voice:

“I’ll take tonight’s watch. Everyone rest.”

Wang Meng and the others looked at each other with rueful smiles. “Sir, you’re too considerate — we’ve been doing this for decades, never seen anything like it.”

They’d learned over the past few days that he didn’t say things he didn’t mean.

They thanked him and filed into the tents.

Dai Bing’s grip on the sword had been tightening. She watched the young man rise in the darkened firelight, the pale face shifting between shadow and dim glow.

She still didn’t understand how he’d read her so clearly when she’d worked so hard to conceal it.

But something in her softened briefly. “Rest. Let me take tonight.”

Good-looking, remarkable talent, sharp in a way she found faintly irritating — almost nothing wrong with him except the way he delivered a cutting remark. Dying at the foot of Qingfeng Mountain would be a waste.

After he’d said outright that he didn’t trust her, this was practically an open signal.

Under her watching eyes—

Shen Yi brushed off his sleeve. “Be quick about it. I’m short on time.”

He couldn’t make the Division afraid of this woman. He had no interest in wasting more words on it either.

“…”

The words landed.

The young woman closed her eyes slowly.

Still insufferable.

She drew the sword.

But the sharp ring of blade against scabbard came from the forest across from her.

A brilliant gold light condensed to a single point and erupted into a soaring dragon — a pressure so absolute that the air itself seemed to hold.

A man in sect administrative robes stood with eyes like blades, expression flat, three feet of clear steel in hand.

Jade Liquid cultivation power pouring out without restraint. Trees a full armspan thick in the surrounding forest — they cracked and fell from nothing more than the sword qi’s wake.

One sword. A century of foundations.

In the face of that surging sword qi—

Shen Yi’s hair moved slightly. His back stayed straight. The black robe rippled.

Only his dark eyes, slowly, began to fill with gold.

…

(End of Chapter)