“Leave two of them. Clean reputations, that’s all I ask.”

Shen Yi’s mind was elsewhere — on martial cultivation, not on the day-to-day grind of constable work. The petty graft and the routine strong-arming that came with the job held no appeal for him. Bringing in two men who hadn’t spent their careers making enemies of ordinary people seemed like a reasonable start at doing less damage.

Song Changfeng blinked at that. He couldn’t quite tell if reputation was being used sarcastically. Once you were associated with Shen Yi, what reputation was there left to protect?

He turned and called out two names. “Niu Da. Niu Er. Effective today, you two are transferred here. You’re filling the vacant positions.”

The two men named were the broadest in the group, and currently the most visibly displeased. The brothers steeled themselves as they stepped forward, arms folded, faces set — whatever Shen Yi said next, they’d decided in advance not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Shen Yi didn’t appear to have any interest in addressing them at all. He looked back at Song Changfeng. “Anything else?”

Two constable bodies were laid out in the courtyard. The demon bodies, notably, were nowhere to be seen. That was a little unusual.

“Thank you. For last night.”

Song Changfeng let out a slow breath — it was unclear whether he meant the demons in the duty room or Shen Yi’s diplomatic exit from his household, and his tone didn’t clarify.

Then something more complicated moved behind his eyes. “Clerk Liu asked me to pass something along. He says to pull back a little. You’ve been pushing it these past two days.”

Under normal circumstances, Shen Yi’s information network ran circles around this sidelined old chief. But today it was the old chief carrying a message down from above.

Word of the dog heads and ape demon corpses had apparently reached someone’s desk.

“…”

Shen Yi’s brow tightened slightly. He said nothing.

“Demons are brutal, yes — but they’ve stayed outside the city walls. A few incidents here and there, you look the other way…” Song Changfeng’s voice had gone a little hollow. The previous night’s events had clearly left their mark on him. “That used to be your strongest skill.”

He straightened up, or tried to. “Right. I’ll leave you to it. Going home to rest.”

Shen Yi watched Song Changfeng and his contingent file out of the courtyard, then rose and stepped outside.

The Demon Suppression Division’s inspection was bearing down on them. The yamen officials were pulling tight.

What he couldn’t make sense of was this: even if they scraped through this inspection, what was the plan after that? Keeping a hat on your head — did these people genuinely rate that above keeping their heads attached to their bodies?

These are demons. They don’t ask whether you’re a civilian or a county magistrate before they eat you.

“Sir.”

Chen Ji gave a small bow, then lowered his voice. “Last night — are you all right?”

He’d been about to ask what actually happened, but the question folded back before it reached his mouth.

“Fine.”

Shen Yi rubbed his temple.

Chen Ji seemed to read his thoughts. “Lately, most of the yamen officials and the county’s wealthier families have been spending money to bring martial artists in from Qingzhou. High-profile names. Officially they’re hired as private guards, but having that kind of presence around provides some deterrence against demons outside the walls.”

“Martial artists? From the jianghu?”

“Established sects. People with real lineages.” Chen Ji’s expression shifted into something envious. “The Lin family’s man, for instance — Master Liu Qi, who goes by Iron Palm. He’s killed more than ten demons with those hands alone.”

“These people grew up in medicinal baths, eating rare ingredients and refined tonics. They’re a different class from constables who picked up martial arts halfway through life. The wealthy families never expected us to actually protect them.”

“Doesn’t the yamen worry about them causing trouble?” Shen Yi asked. “Armed men outside official oversight—”

“Not really. Any proper sect registers with the court.” Chen Ji, usually a man of few words, had an obvious interest in martial world gossip. “Besides, hired connections are nothing compared to personal ones. Apparently the county magistrate wrote to his old master in Qingzhou and pulled in someone significant — the man lives in the magistrate’s residence and rarely shows himself publicly. When Master Liu Qi arrived in Baiyun County, he still had to send over a formal calling card first.”

Shen Yi listened with more than passing interest. “These sects — do they take in new members? Any requirements?”

A proper lineage would be considerably more comfortable than this posting.

“Natural talent, family background, personal conduct — all of them matter.” Chen Ji paused, then tugged at his own sleeve. “And there’s one rule they don’t say out loud, but it’s the most important: you can’t have worn this uniform.”

Shen Yi caught the rueful look and understood immediately.

The jianghu was supposed to stand for freedom — wandering, unattached, answerable to no one. Now it had to register with the court just to be taken seriously, which felt rather like being fitted for shackles. Having made that compromise, the sects’ wariness about absorbing yamen insiders was predictable enough. Official corruption was the last thing they wanted carried in through the door.

“Either way, Baiyun County stays Baiyun County.” Chen Ji’s eyes sharpened with something between frustration and resignation. “It won’t collapse entirely. The ones who suffer are always the ordinary people.” He paused, something else surfacing. “The girls have all been sent home. When do the ape demons come to collect?”

It wasn’t a question he would have asked before. He’d have just raged silently and cursed Shen Yi’s name from a safe distance.

But cursing hadn’t solved anything. And when it came to actual strategy — navigating this tangle of demon politics without getting everyone killed — he had nothing. No plan, just anger and a blade. The only option was to put some hope in Shen Yi, who had somehow managed to keep all these factions in play for years without the whole thing detonating.

“Already handled.”

Shen Yi said it like it was nothing.

Chen Ji went still. He’d been awake half the night worrying — and it was already done?

“The apes didn’t have anything to say about it?”

“They said I’d always been efficient. Said they were very satisfied with my work.” Shen Yi cast his mind back. “They were going to give me Song Changfeng’s position.”

“You agreed?”

“No.”

“That explains it.” Chen Ji pressed a hand to his forehead. So that was what had gotten into Song Changfeng this morning.

“One more thing — I keep forgetting to mention. You look different today.” He glanced up. “Can’t quite put my finger on it. You just… stand out.”

Shen Yi considered this and nodded. He had a reasonable idea of what Chen Ji meant.

The next moment, the energy coursing freely through his body drew back, settling quietly into the apertures where it lived.

That cultivation was meant to impress the Demon Suppression Division — not to put every minor demon in the county on alert. If they all started avoiding him, replenishing demon lifespan reserves was going to become a much harder problem.

With the qi reined in, he waved a hand. “When you’re on duty, take charge of them. Keep things from going sideways.”

Chen Ji processed that for a moment.

A full overhaul? No more bleeding the civilians?

“Understood, sir!”

“One more thing.”

Shen Yi stopped him. Chen Ji turned with a questioning look.

“Lend me some silver. I’ll pay you back when salaries come in.”

“…”

Chen Ji rolled his eyes. Right. Can’t squeeze the civilians anymore, so now we’re squeezing me.

He dug into his belt pouch and produced three small coins of broken silver, muttering under his breath. “I’m still saving up for Jinyu’s dowry…”

“Don’t worry. If I can’t pay you back, I’ll marry her myself.”

Shen Yi pocketed the silver and walked out of the courtyard.

(End of Chapter)