Quiet room.

Having said his piece, Fang Heng lowered his arms and stepped back half a pace with a certain wariness.

Since they’d first met, every time he’d tried to keep the man from leaving, his arms had paid the price — first the right, then both together—

But he kept his eyes fixed on the black-robed young man sitting at the table.

In the General’s criteria for taking disciples, killing intent ranked ahead of talent. Every one of her disciples, himself included, had been among the most ferocious demon-slayers of their generation — credits far exceeding peers.

This was because Qingzhou wasn’t as peaceful as it looked on the surface.

It resembled a tower built from sand — apparently stable, in reality a single strong touch away from collapse.

What Qingzhou didn’t need was exceptional talent that cultivated rapidly, broke through realm after realm, and then drifted away like an immortal with no attachment to the mundane.

What it needed was a killing god. Something that could hold demon lords in check. A butcher capable of making the demon ranks tremble at their feet.

Fang Heng was the only person in the Division besides Lin Baixi who had watched Shen Yi’s growth firsthand — Meridian-Severing Dragon Capture, Novice reached in five days; Four Harmonies True Astral Force, five days again.

More importantly: he had never seen fear in those eyes.

Not on the way to Shuiyun Township. Not on the path up Qingfeng Mountain.

The back of him as he walked away was always thin, always unhesitating.

The river deity died. The flood dragon died.

The dark blade at his hip was as dark as ever. The smell on it had grown considerably richer.

A person like this shouldn’t be sent off to grind their character smooth, spending decades or centuries becoming a garrison general who held one prefecture.

He should keep killing — until he became something like Martial Elder Sister Jiang, ready to compete with her for the General’s own position, and hold all twelve prefectures under a single blade.

Martial Elder Sister Lin hadn’t come back yet.

Right now, aside from himself, no one in the Division knew how extreme Shen Yi actually was — not just the speed of his cultivation, but the composure that never slipped, and the self-sufficiency that never looked for someone to lean on.

What did the General’s position most require? Exactly that — the confidence that extended all the way to self-assurance, because the general was what ten million people leaned on, and there was no one left for the general to lean on in return.

“I—”

Fang Heng felt the words sticking in his throat and was starting to push through the explanation—

Then he caught the slight movement as Shen Yi raised his eyes, water cup in hand, and looked over at him with comfortable laziness.

“Who told you I was going to Linjiang Prefecture?”

Outside the gate, the two figures went still.

Bai Ziming rolled his eyes and wiped at the sweat on his forehead.

Fang Heng fell into silence as well. It took him a long moment to process, and then his gaze drifted with genuine blankness toward the yin-yang fish uniform laid across the bed.

“Then why — didn’t you refuse—”

“Why would I refuse?”

Shen Yi took another sip of warm water and looked genuinely puzzled. “Can’t I just have both?”

If he wasn’t remembering wrong, he hadn’t received any order requiring him to go to Linjiang Prefecture. Could a personal attendant Deputy Commander not remain in Qingzhou and continue working? It wasn’t as if he needed other Commanders’ help for anything.

Mainly — the performance of Division personnel over all this time had been, honestly, not impressive. He’d had trouble feeling inspired by it.

“Both — both of them?”

Fang Heng’s eyelid moved. This was the first time it had occurred to him that things could work this way.

Wear the old general’s name like a tiger’s skin — and then do your own thing?

“Yes.” Shen Yi nodded.

Fang Heng went quiet again, wanting to say something and not finding where to begin.

It sounded absurd on its face — and yet there was no rule against it. Deputy Commanders spent their whole careers working toward this kind of settled arrangement. Who would stop just before the last step?

But looking at the other man’s calm expression, a thread of genuine confusion rose in Fang Heng instead. “So you also find it — hard to sit still in a comfortable situation?”

“Obviously.” Shen Yi looked at him with mild exasperation. Who would have a problem with living safely? He wasn’t that self-destructive.

“Then why?”

Fang Heng had finally arrived at a curiosity he couldn’t dismiss.

“Because I’m sick.”

Shen Yi’s face carried a rare flicker of something that was almost a smile. He picked up the chopsticks and went for the pork knuckle in the food box — you had to get the skin first.

He wasn’t being dismissive.

It was a genuine and fairly serious condition.

Like the hand that had reached out on its own in front of the Liu house when he first saw the demon dog in black.

Like the legs that had crossed the field ridge and walked in front of those children without consulting him, to stand between them and the Yellow King.

He was working on breaking himself of habits that could get him killed.

So far he’d seen no evidence of progress.

So he had no choice but to keep building strength, relentlessly, hoping that the next time his hand reached out on its own, or his legs moved without permission, he could protect the one life he had with the dark blade at his hip.

At the courtyard gate.

The middle-aged man’s expression had gone somewhat difficult. The small girl had her hand pressed over her mouth, shoulders shaking, tears again at the corner of her eyes, small feet kicking repeatedly against his arm.

“Ha — he wants both. That’s no infant. The ambition on him.”

“I—” the girl stopped laughing. She dropped off the shoulder in a single motion. Her eyes went deep. “I like him very much.”

“Grandmother, where are you going?” The middle-aged man’s brow pulled sharply together. He hadn’t anticipated this.

“I want to see if he really dares to take everything he reaches for.”

The small figure in green bounced to the door, glanced at Bai Ziming, and said pleasantly: “Leave.”

“Right.” Bai Ziming nodded cooperatively, didn’t look back at his junior brother, exhaled with relief, and walked out of the courtyard quickly.

The idiot hadn’t spilled anything yet. That was close.

After he was gone—

The green-clad girl smiled sweetly again, rose on her toes, knocked gently on the door, and called in a soft, rounded voice: “Big brother, can Aqian come in?”

“…”

Inside, Shen Yi’s eyes narrowed slightly. The hand holding the chopsticks went taut.

This was the first time in a long while — someone had entered the courtyard without him registering their presence at all. The last time that had happened was the two demon serpents in Baiyun County.

Fang Heng blinked, then went completely rigid as if lightning had struck him.

The color drained entirely from his face as he turned, jaw set, working his numb arms into movement to pull open the door. He looked down at the small figure and said reflexively: “Old—”

The word came out half-formed. The small girl’s eyes filled with something dangerous. Her voice went flat and quiet. “You leave too.”

Fang Heng looked back at Shen Yi once. Then walked out of the room without further comment.

When that broad-shouldered figure was gone, Shen Yi finally got a clear look at the visitor.

A tiny thing. Green dress, bare feet. Dense eyelashes. A round, pale little face that was genuinely endearing.

Aqian smiled and showed small even teeth, wide bright eyes looking up at him with curiosity.

The sharp-featured young man smiled back warmly.

And quietly moved a hand to rest on the hilt of the saber.

This harmless-looking little creature was putting more pressure on him than anything he’d encountered in a very long time.

“No need to be nervous.” Aqian caught the movement and took it in. She bounced up onto a chair, planted both elbows on the table, and put her round little face close to his.

“I accidentally heard big brother talking just now, so I came in to ask—”

She extended her wrist. A gold bell chimed faintly. Between pale fingertips, she held a silver bell of identical design.

“Do you want this?”

Shen Yi looked at the bell. Something moved behind his dark eyes.

He’d seen bells like this before. In Baiyun County — in the fox demon’s hands. That one had been copper. He’d assumed it was a treasured implement bestowed by some elder of the fox clan. And now, here it was again, inside the Division.

Three identical bells.

Copper. Silver. Gold.

One memory and two realities, chiming together in his mind, clear and bright.

(End of Chapter)