Qingzhou City. The Division yamen.
For the ordinary officers, it was a day like any other — except that the demon threat had eased lately, leaving everyone feeling unexpectedly lighter. Beyond that, not much had changed.
The sharper-eyed among the deputy commanders had noticed something was off.
Not because they had better sources of information, but because they had happened to catch a glimpse of Elder Wu passing through the yamen — and Wu Feng, a Gold-bell demon-hunter, was simply wandering around with nothing to do.
When had Qingzhou’s demon-hunters ever had time to wander?
Even grandmother Aqian had only been able to come back and rest for a spell because the General had gone to the capital.
Wait —
A deputy commander looked ahead. The small figure standing with her hands clasped behind her back, waiting for Elder Wu — who else could that be but grandmother Aqian?
While they were still puzzling it out, in the General’s residence Jiang Yuanhua had already finished writing his letter, sealed it carefully, loaded it into a bell, and handed it to You Longtao beside him.
“Go quickly and come back.”
“Understood.”
You Longtao had returned to Qingzhou City at top speed the moment he heard that martial sister Jiang and General Shen were back.
And yet even now, with that cold bell in his palm, he still felt as though he were dreaming.
No one had told him anything directly.
But they had gone to ambush the Junior Demon King, and martial sister Jiang and the others had come back — quickly, with no visible wounds on any of them, and even Aqian and Elder Wu were acting strangely subdued. There was only one conclusion.
The Junior Demon King was dead.
In just a few days, the demon threat that had been a headache for Qingzhou as long as anyone could remember had simply — quietly — ceased to exist.
You Longtao felt as though he were walking through a dream. He was almost afraid to move too quickly in case it broke.
And yet his master’s expression had not loosened at all. The way he was working so hard to conceal something only made it more unsettling.
“Go on.”
Jiang Yuanhua waved a hand, cutting off his eldest disciple before he could ask.
The situation had already been trending toward something uncontrollable.
Now it had effectively taken itself entirely out of his hands — the fate of all of Qingzhou passed upward to be decided by those above.
He felt no relief. Only a deep, settled helplessness.
Cultivation. Realm.
Even as a Martial Immortal — a height countless people envied and feared — Jiang Yuanhua felt it was nowhere near enough.
Let the Junior Demon King live, wait for it to break through, and Qingzhou falls.
Kill the Junior Demon King, and draw in something that cannot be fought at all — and Qingzhou falls regardless.
No matter which way you chose — there was no real choice.
All because some demon out wandering the world had happened to choose Great Qian, and happened to come here, with no reason and no warning.
He watched You Longtao turn and leave the courtyard.
Jiang Yuanhua picked up his sword and began to clean it with care. The tight line of his brow slowly eased.
When there was no longer any point in worrying, at least everyone could breathe for a moment.
“General Shen,” he said quietly. “Truly impossible to understand.”
His eyes dropped to a letter lying open beneath the sword. A brief inquiry about the whereabouts of a certain junior, signed by a disciple of Qingqiu.
Jiang Yuanhua raised an eyebrow slightly. His fingers brushed the blade, and a thread of light fell from it, leaving a neat line of characters across the letter.
Don’t know. Never heard of them. For further inquiries, contact the War Temple.
The Thousand Demon Den was already offended — what was one more debt. More lice, less itch. It was only one Qingzhou — did they think they could destroy it twice? The nerve, treating a Martial Immortal like he was no one.
In the Division’s auxiliary residence.
Li Xinhan undid his wolf-pelt cloak with one hand and tossed it onto the stone table.
“Practice, practice, practice — what’s the point of all this practice?” Li Mujin rolled her eyes at him. Some bearing he had — a tiger drawn badly, coming out more like a dog.
“I’d love to learn something else. The question is whether I’m capable of it.” Li Xinhan clicked his tongue and picked the cloak back up obediently.
The dozen-odd other officers suppressed their laughter. Ma Tao and a few others glanced toward the empty room.
They had shared a carriage with that young man on the way to Qingzhou. The image still surfaced sometimes — the side room back in Baiyun County, the young man standing sideways with a hand resting on his scabbard, looking quietly out.
Ma Tao had been knocked to the ground without ceremony back then, and spent the better part of a week treating it as a profound humiliation.
Now he felt entirely differently.
Taking a blow from a Demon Suppression General and still being here, hale and standing — that was nothing to be ashamed of anywhere you went. If anything, it was something to be proud of.
The little auxiliary residence had even taken on a half-joking nickname among them: the Thirteenth Demon Suppression General’s Residence.
Their station and General Shen’s were worlds apart now. But having once shared a courtyard with him was worth writing down in the family records.
Then a tall figure stepped through the gate.
A brief nod to the assembled officers — and then he went straight inside.
Ma Tao rubbed his eyes. “…”
The Li siblings stared for a long moment. A Demon Suppression General, and he was still living here?
Had the Division really gotten this stingy?
Li Xinhan fell quiet, gave a slight nod to the tree in front of him, felt that wasn’t quite right, adjusted his posture, took a few casual steps, and nodded again.
“I want to kick you.”
Li Mujin shot him a withering look, but still took care to keep her voice down so as not to disturb Shen Yi.
Inside the room.
Shen Yi lay stretched out on the bed.
The black armor was broken — well, it was broken. He had never liked wearing it anyway.
His hand passed over the pouch at his waist.
For the past two days he had done nothing else, giving all his attention to the new treasure artifacts.
After a brief period of familiarization, he had a reasonable grasp of how they worked.
The bronze armor pieces came floating out of the pouch one by one and arranged themselves in orbit around his body. On the bull demon’s frame, a single shoulder plate had been well over a zhang wide — on Shen Yi, they settled into a normal human scale.
He looked at the right shoulder plate.
His gaze traveled over the deep gash across its surface. A look of regret crossed his eyes and he couldn’t help giving his own hand a light slap.
A perfectly good thing, and now it had a flaw.
He brought out the bronze mirror next.
The mirror had fared worse than the armor — Jiang Qiulan had cracked its rim and left several fine fractures across the surface.
It would still function, but not without some effect on its performance.
It would be best to find a skilled craftsman to repair it.
The ring-pommel broadsword was simply too large — he had no ideas for it yet. The Red Cloud was more interesting. He had tried riding it briefly, and with cultivation poured in without restraint, it was at least fifty percent faster than the Unfettered Wind-Riding Art at full power.
And he had not yet condensed a true path infant.
Once his cultivation matched the Junior Demon King’s, it would probably be twice as fast.
Things for running and staying alive — the more, the better.
This hunt had taught him a great deal.
The Immortal-Demon Nine Transformations was formidable, but its defenses could still be broken through. If he hadn’t captured that peacock earlier and had the red light’s nourishment to draw on, he might genuinely have come to grief out there.
His methods were still too narrow.
Shen Yi shook his head, put the artifacts away, and took out the Junior Demon King’s inner core.
【Remaining Demon Lifespan: 16,173 years】
(End of Chapter)