Qingzhou city. The Dashun Pavilion.

Second floor. A small table outside held two cups of pale green tea.

Li Xinhan sat with a cold expression. Behind him, Li Muqing stood. The siblings watched the person across from them in silence.

A thin-faced middle-aged man with a goatee smiled pleasantly. “No need to be so tense, you two. I was simply asked by Young Master Kangyun to keep him company. Nothing more.”

“Ha.”

Li Xinhan let out a cold sound. “Going for a walk inside Qingzhou city and you need to bring a Condensate Realm family guardian. The nerve of you lot has really been declining year by year.”

“Take your time. It’s just tea.”

Zhao Kangyun raised an eyebrow and looked toward the distant city wall.

The people he’d placed outside the city had picked up something earlier. He’d wasted no time getting the family guardian out and calling the Li siblings here as well.

When it came to the established families, actually fighting was off the table.

But at minimum — he was going to return that bench.

“Tap, tap, tap—”

As time passed, footsteps multiplied. The young faces from the gathering that night arrived and filled the corridor, pressing it full. No one spoke. They all simply stared at the city wall.

“…”

The Li siblings looked at each other. The picture was fairly clear.

Who else could bring all of these people together at once.

But this was unusually fast?

Shen Yi had barely left the city two days ago. Getting there and back would eat up a day and a half on its own.

That left perhaps half a day to investigate the cause, gather evidence, catch the Jingang School abbot, and do it all with a hundred-and-twenty-odd people.

By any reasonable calculation, that seemed unlikely.

Which was presumably the same calculation the Zhao young master was running.

“I said, don’t rush. Sit still.”

Zhao Kangyun brought his attention back, fanning himself with idle ease, and gave the siblings a look that had amusement in it. “Whose fault is it that you two went out without backup? Remember that for next time.”

Both of them were known names. He’d been careless that night, let them take advantage of Shen Yi’s presence and deny him any dignity. Today he’d come prepared. The moment the situation turned, he’d take back what was owed.

The Zhao family guardian sipped his tea with a mild expression, disinclined to get involved in young people’s squabbles.

Though coming to the Dashun Pavilion also reflected the family’s interests.

The Division was always heavy-handed, but it rarely made actual mistakes. Finding a new personal attendant who was young, aggressive, and inexperienced — and had handled things this carelessly — was an opportunity worth pressing. A formal written complaint, delivered to the Division compound, would remind these dogs-of-authority not to be quite so free with their teeth.

The evidence Zhao Kangyun had received turned out to be accurate.

The sun had just climbed to its highest point.

A group of riders appeared outside the city. As per the rule, they dismounted to enter.

Zhao Kangyun counted carefully. A hundred and twenty-four had gone out. A hundred and twenty-three came back. All of them wearing the same blank, at-a-loss expression.

The corner of his mouth curved slightly. Just as he’d guessed.

No casualties, but back this fast — no Jingang School disciples in custody. The mission had almost certainly come up empty.

Hong Lei came last, leading a demon-horse. The saddle was occupied — but the sharp, cold figure from last time was gone.

“Too embarrassed to show his face, is he.”

Zhao Kangyun didn’t hold back anymore. He snapped the fan shut, stood, reached for the bench that had been prepared beside him, and hefted it.

“After making this much of a mess, surely even Young Master Li doesn’t have the face to go back and report it.”

The others kept looking outside.

They’d come because of Shen Yi, but they had no desire to be caught between whatever was happening between the Li and Zhao young masters.

Still — hearing the words, their expressions stayed controlled while something beneath them quietly relaxed.

The Division was brutal, that was known. Brutal toward outsiders, and no gentler toward its own. A campaign this loud, several deaths, and it ended with everyone dragging themselves home — someone was going to have to answer for that.

Li Xinhan kept his face cold and looked straight at the other man.

“Plenty of words. I’m waiting to go back and file my report.”

“Tough talk.”

Zhao Kangyun smiled brightly, then something ugly entered his eyes, and the bench in his hand came down toward the top of Li Xinhan’s head.

A thin hand closed around his wrist before it landed.

The family guardian said quietly: “Young Master. Time to go home.”

“What are you—”

Zhao Kangyun turned fast, the blocked breath sitting in his chest with nowhere to go.

What, his Zhao family people could be humiliated freely, but the Li family couldn’t bear any discomfort whatsoever?

Then he caught the guardian’s expression and followed where the eyes were pointing.

Hong Lei was leading the demon-horse closer. Tied to its back, swaying with each step, was a flat leather sack. Four limbs attached. A smooth bald head dangling from it.

Nobody but the Jingang School abbot.

Zhao Kangyun went rigid, the bench suspended in the air.

Around him, every one of the gathered young heirs had gone unsteady in their breathing, shock moving through their eyes.

In Qingzhou, second-tier standing meant having one practitioner in the house who approached Condensate Realm strength — through whatever unusual path, however unconventional the method. As long as they could overwhelm Jade Liquid Realm, it counted.

First-tier required more: genuine Condensate Realm practitioners in stable numbers, plus a reliable path to produce more — like Qingfeng Mountain’s sword pool — so leadership could pass without gaps.

The Jingang School’s recent rise to second-tier had been built on the abbot’s dramatic increase in power.

And now, inside two days, that newly prominent figure was tied to a saddle with no breath left, as if someone had ridden out to Pingkang Mountain to kill a chicken.

It made you wonder whether Shen Yi had prepared the body in advance and staged the whole thing purely to put a scare into the room.

“What are you actually doing?” Li Muqing raised an eyebrow.

“My legs got tired sitting in the chair. Stretching them on a bench. That a problem?” Zhao Kangyun put the bench down on the floor hard, breathing heavily.

“Commander Shen rode through Qingzhou last time because that was Qingfeng Mountain he’d come back from. The Jingang School is what — a demonic sect eliminated as an afterthought. Does that rate his personal appearance? What exactly are you lot of pig-heads trying to calculate?”

Li Xinhan had the look of a man who had known how this would go all along, sweeping the room with open contempt.

“…”

Li Muqing looked at him sideways.

Noise from upstairs reached them.

Hong Lei glanced up briefly, then let it go, and looked back at the colleagues behind him, noting that none of them were in much better shape than he was.

When General Chen had moved against Qingfeng Mountain, it had taken him more than a month.

Shen Yi had led Commanders out, gone up the mountain, cut down the abbot, come back down. Start to finish, under one hour. Easier than going out for a meal — in fact, dinner probably hadn’t even finished being served before this was wrapped up.

If not for having to notify the local yamen to take over for the people who’d been drugged, he might have been back even sooner.

This credit—

Was genuinely a little hot to hold.

(End of Chapter)