“Came today to have a look at the lovely wives you’ve been finding for us. Caught a whiff of those mongrel dogs on the way in, so we thought we’d stop by.”

“Don’t worry — you’re efficient, and we’ve always been happy with your work.”

The old ape glanced at Shen Yi, then swung its face back toward Song Changfeng, close enough that the man could smell its breath. “That said, you’re rather low-ranking, aren’t you. Still taking orders from mediocrities like this one. Doesn’t suit you. Consider it a gift — we’ll remove him today, help little brother Shen climb a rung or two.”

“I didn’t kill those Dog Demons—” Song Changfeng’s eyes had gone so wide they looked ready to fall out of his head. His voice cracked into a shriek. “I’ll resign — right now — just don’t kill me — Shen Yi! I never did a thing to you! Why is this happening—”

All three ape demons broke into laughter at that.

The sound was high and grating, and it needled at Shen Yi’s patience until a cold edge crept into his voice. “Let him go.”

The old ape’s expression hardened instantly.

It had been calling Shen Yi little brother — but that was mockery, nothing more. In the apes’ estimation, Shen Yi was a cooperative errand boy, nothing beyond that. Why else would they have bothered with the intimidation display at the door?

And now the errand boy was giving orders?

The old ape’s lips peeled back, showing yellowed fangs. It swallowed the anger for now and regarded Shen Yi with idle curiosity. “And what do I get if I let him go?”

It had no intention of actually releasing Song Changfeng. But it was genuinely interested in what this two-faced little schemer thought he was playing at.

Shen Yi looked down at the old ape for a moment, unhurried, then let his brow smooth out — the expression of a man presenting an offer too good to refuse.

“Let him go, and your death will be easier.”

Silence fell over the room like a dropped curtain.

The killing intent in the old ape’s eyes began to rise. “Interesting. And if I don’t?”

Shen Yi looked up, entirely sincere. “I’ll flay you down to the bones.”

The ape demons hadn’t even processed the words before Song Changfeng nearly bit through his own teeth in terror.

He’d finally understood. Shen Yi hadn’t come here with any intention of letting him walk out alive.

Flay it to the bones? Which one of you is doing the flaying?

The Eastern Mountain apes were nothing like the Yellow King’s pack of Dog Demons — those came in large, uneven numbers, and a group of constables could manage the weaker ones. But the apes had only ever numbered five. Excluding the ancient Greater Demon who hadn’t shown itself in years, the four brothers beneath it were each worth ten ordinary demons. A handful of them could hold their own against the entire Dog Demon faction.

And today, three of those four brothers were in this room.

Sure enough — at Shen Yi’s words, the scholar-robed ape’s eyes went flat and cold.

No mocking retort. No roar to assert dominance.

It simply increased the pressure in its hand. Razor claws pierced the skin of Song Changfeng’s forehead, and the man’s skull began to creak like green wood — one more degree of force and it would split like an overripe melon.

The old ape looked at Shen Yi sidelong, letting the sound do the teaching.

Then — confusion flickered across its face.

And confusion became fury.

Shen Yi wasn’t watching.

He had turned his back on the old ape entirely and walked to the doorway, stopping in front of the two apes blocking the exit.

He looked them over for a moment. Then he chose the one that had punched through the door and killed the constables.

Without another word, Shen Yi raised his hand — and in the instant before the demon could react, brought it down hard on the back of its skull.

The force behind that single motion was total. The ape crashed to the floor face-first, driving into the cracked tiles beneath it.

The second ape snapped to attention and screamed — high and sharp — but even in its urgency it didn’t lose its form. One long arm, far longer than any human limb, swept a full arc through the air. Black-furred knuckles closed into a fist and came down like a dropped millstone, aimed squarely at the back of Shen Yi’s spine.

This wasn’t wild instinct. It was trained technique.

Its left arm was already loading the follow-up — ready to drive home the killing blow the moment the spine gave way.

Shen Yi was crouched over the downed demon, palm still pressed to the back of its head, when the strike came down.

At the last instant, his other hand moved — almost casually — to intercept.

The fist that could have shattered a spine hit his forearm and collapsed. All that momentum, simply dissolved.

Before the ape could register what had happened, five fingers had closed around its throat. A measured squeeze — and the cervical vertebrae gave way.

He hadn’t looked back once.

His gaze drifted down to the slowly deforming head in his grip. Each time it struggled, his hand tightened another increment.

“AUGH—!”

The scholar-robed old ape faltered. It couldn’t make sense of what it was seeing — this was a man it knew, and nothing he was doing fit anything it had ever seen him do.

One of its brothers was dying. That cracked through reason.

It moved to use Song Changfeng as leverage — stop or he dies — but the words died before they reached its mouth. It looked at Shen Yi’s face, utterly still, and understood.

The man in his grip was his brother.

The man in the old ape’s grip meant absolutely nothing to Shen Yi.

It snarled, hurled Song Changfeng aside with one kick, and launched itself across the room, vaulting off the tabletop. “Stop—!”

A shriek and a dense, wet crunch landed at the same moment.

Shen Yi lowered his hand and shook the red-and-white residue from his fingers.

He glanced sidelong at the figure hurtling toward him through the air. His palm settled on the hilt at his hip. He began to draw—

— and then slowed.

In the scholar-robed ape’s bloodshot eyes, black mist had begun to rise. The same darkness seeped out between its fur, and in the span of a breath it had coalesced into a chain — writhing, churning, cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.

The chain lashed through the air toward him like a living thing.

Shen Yi’s brow drew together slightly. A flicker of genuine surprise entered his eyes.

His first encounter with demon arts.

The cold that radiated from the chain wasn’t ordinary cold — it cut into the bones and seemed to reach for the mind, as if designed to freeze the will as much as the body. He’d assumed that after bringing his mortal frame to its peak, nothing below the Threshold Realm could threaten him.

He’d been mistaken. Not dramatically — but enough to notice.

The draw continued, but differently than before. Where he usually moved with sharp, fluid immediacy, this time the blade came out slowly. Deliberately.

Blood and qi surged through him, so hot he could feel the heat through his own skin.

Inch by inch, the blade emerged. A faint crimson mist clung to the silver, moving across the steel like something alive — slow, viscous, like blood finding its own level.

The blade swept.

The scholar-robed ape stared.

It was close — three feet away, close enough to tear that face apart with one swipe. Its claws trembled. It could not extend them.

Bewildered, it looked down.

Its scholar’s robe had parted cleanly. The cut was surgical — perfectly flat, somewhere around the waist. Below it, two powerful legs dropped to the floor with a dull, wet sound.

The rest of it was still airborne.

Shing.

Shen Yi slid the blade home and stepped over the two halves of the ape demon without breaking his stride.

(End of Chapter)