“So, what is it? Finally come to your senses? Or has something gone wrong in Qingzhou again?”
Wu Dao’an walked ahead, unhurried.
He’d warned the young man before that the path of cultivation was far rockier than he imagined — a thousand years might sound like an eternity, but in truth, it passed in the snap of a finger.
For a cultivator, lifespan was always the most precious thing of all.
What surprised him somewhat was that Shen Yi had come around to his senses far faster than he’d expected.
“If this is about Qingzhou business, then don’t even bother bringing it up. Even if you were a proper disciple of the War Temple…”
“Registered disciple,” Shen Yi said quietly.
“This old man knows that!” Wu Dao’an glanced back, exasperated. This boy was genuinely baffling — for most people, becoming a true disciple of the War Temple would have been the kind of fortune their ancestors had prayed for, and yet here this one was, not even bothering to milk the misunderstanding, instead honestly correcting him on the spot.
Absurd, to the very limit.
“Even being a registered disciple of the War Temple! We genuinely haven’t got any strength to spare.”
Wu Dao’an wasn’t lying. This crowd of Martial Immortals might stand above the Nine Provinces’ Generals in cultivation, but without a condensed golden dharma form, they couldn’t overwhelm a demon king outright either — and if things bogged down into a standoff, it would only leave the War Temple’s own defenses dangerously thin.
If any Mixed Origin cultivators happened to be free, he wouldn’t have minded, given Shen Yi’s talent, putting in a word himself to bring one or two Grandmasters in to lend a hand.
As it stood, though, there was genuinely no one to spare.
“Qingzhou’s fine for now,” Shen Yi said, shaking his head.
“…”
Wu Dao’an shot him a silent glance, a flicker of confusion rising in him.
Fine? If everything was truly fine, how had Jiang Yuanhua ended up in that wretched state?
He’d assumed Shen Yi had been sent to the capital to take shelter.
The two of them stepped into a courtyard, and before they’d even settled into their seats, someone came hurrying in. “Commander Wu, Jiang Yuanhua of Qingzhou has submitted his report. Please, take a look.”
Wu Dao’an froze for a moment, catching one detail in the man’s words.
There was a title missing in front of Jiang Yuanhua’s name.
He reached out and took the document, only to see the man before him bow first to him, then turn to Shen Yi beside him and say with a smile, “General Shen. A pleasure to finally meet.”
Shen Yi returned the gesture with a cupped-fist salute.
“Hm?”
Wu Dao’an flipped the document open without much thought, then shot the young man a glance with sudden interest. “So you’ve been promoted to General, have you.”
Even though he didn’t put much stock in the Demon Suppression Division’s hierarchy, he couldn’t help but feel a touch surprised.
Last time he’d come through, the man had already been the youngest Demon Suppression General Wu Dao’an had ever encountered. Now, only two or three months later, he’d gone and become the youngest General across all Nine Provinces.
Wu Dao’an read the report through to the very last word, his expression betraying nothing, then waved a hand to dismiss the man from the Division. “Bring Jiang Yuanhua in. This old man will go see him shortly.”
Once only the two of them remained in the courtyard, the old man in the blue-green robe settled himself into a bamboo chair without the slightest hurry, smoothing down his hem. “You Longtao’s taking over his post as General, and yet they’ve gone through the needless trouble of having you serve as acting General for a stretch first. Unless this old man’s mistaken, that means you’ve gone and eaten something you weren’t supposed to.”
“Written all vague and blurry like that — does he take this old man for a fool?”
Wu Dao’an raised his eyes and gave a cold snort.
Jiang Yuanhua had been no match for the demon king; the two of them had fought to the point of grievous injury, which meant someone had to step up to finish the job.
Clearly, Shen Yi’s formidable talent — capable of swallowing a golden body’s presence whole without leaving a trace — was unheard of in Great Qian, past or present. With sufficient accumulated faith on hand, breaking through to a new realm was only to be expected.
After Jiang Yuanhua had been gravely wounded, without seeking the War Temple’s permission, he’d taken it upon himself to hand over the General’s jade token, using this young man’s hands to finish off the badly wounded Howling Moon.
And, fearing the War Temple might hold it against him, he’d produced this carefully worded report sitting before them now.
“Desperate times call for expedient measures. We’re hardly the rigid, inflexible sort, are we.”
Wu Dao’an gestured for the young man to sit.
“…”
A flicker of genuine admiration showed in Shen Yi’s eyes. No wonder this man served as Temple Custodian to the golden body — every bit as sharp-witted as the War Temple’s own Ancestor.
Whatever excuse he’d prepared in advance had become entirely unnecessary now.
He sat down across from the old man without further fuss.
“What a joke. A disciple of our War Temple — registered disciple, that is — having to stand in as some province’s acting General.”
Wu Dao’an arched an eyebrow. Just as he’d guessed — the young man had already gone speechless.
He said flatly, “Now that you’re back, focus on properly cultivating the divine spirit method. As for a title to justify drawing on accumulated faith, the Demon Suppression Division has an opening for Deputy Inspector. You can fill that for now.”
“What’s an Inspector?” Shen Yi asked, his expression unchanged.
“Deputy Inspector.” Wu Dao’an, finally finding his chance to even the score, gave a satisfied smile. “Above all the Nine Provinces’ Generals, there’s a single Inspector and two Deputy Inspectors, who together oversee the Demon Suppression Division’s central offices.”
“By rights, the post of Inspector requires a Mixed Origin cultivator, someone tasked with patrolling the Nine Provinces and clearing out demon troubles wherever they crop up. You don’t meet the qualifications.”
Having handed out a favor, it was only proper to explain the reasoning behind it — otherwise, knowing this young man, he’d probably just take it as his due.
The old man looked over at him. “But the Inspector happens to be away from Great Qian at the moment, and both Deputies met unfortunate ends — the posts have sat empty up to now. You come from the Demon Suppression Division yourself, and you’ve killed a demon king besides. No need to handle any actual duties — just carry the title and draw on the accumulated faith. Hardly breaks any rules.”
“Of course, if you ever get bored enough to actually show up and sit a desk at the office, that’s your call too — just don’t go feeling embarrassed when you can’t actually help all the Generals and commanders who come looking for aid.”
“Understood.”
Shen Yi listened in silence.
Then, with a touch of genuine sentiment, he looked off toward the distant War Temple.
It had been a long time since he’d been treated this well — like a man starving half to death, with an old man heaping the table full of chicken and duck and fish, then bringing out wine on top of it all, worried he might choke.
“Alright. Come along with this old man and see Jiang Yuanhua. Once that’s done, you may as well go say hello to your fellow disciples too.”
Wu Dao’an rose unhurriedly to his feet. “Though we go by the name War Temple, in practice we’re really no different from an immortal sect. They’d count as something like senior brothers and sisters to you, in a sense — if you ever have questions about your cultivation and I’m not around, you’re welcome to seek their guidance too.”
“Much obliged, Commander Wu.” Shen Yi rose as well.
“No need for titles like that anymore. If you think well enough of this old man, just call me Senior Brother Wu.”
A trace of warmth crept into Wu Dao’an’s eyes. He’d finally managed to draw this prodigy in — a stroke of good fortune for the War Temple, if there ever was one.
The two of them set off, walking out together.
Jiang Yuanhua, drifting along insubstantially, was led, utterly baffled, into a room.
There, he spotted the missing Shen Yi, with an old man in a blue-green robe standing before him — none other than this place’s own Temple Custodian, Wu Dao’an.
“Yuanhua greets Commander Wu.”
Both being divine-spirit cultivators, and the old man an upper-tier Martial Immortal besides, Jiang Yuanhua knew the man could see him clearly, and didn’t dare show the slightest discourtesy.
Only once he’d finished the proper bow did he steal a glance over at Shen Yi, giving him a quiet look.
Hadn’t he told the man to wait outside? How had he ended up meeting someone from the War Temple before him, in the blink of an eye? He felt a stab of worry that Shen Yi might have let something slip.
After all, however formidable Shen Yi’s strength, one look told you the man had no gift for smooth talking.
“What are you making faces for? You know how to bow to this old man well enough — and yet you’ve gone mute in front of your own superior?”
Wu Dao’an glared at him.
“My… superior?”
Jiang Yuanhua stared, stunned, at Shen Yi, and saw the man give him a quiet, small nod — a signal, he realized, that everything had already been explained.
But… how exactly had he gone and gotten promoted to that?
Never mind that he hadn’t even “handed over” the credit yet — even taking every last bit of it, how could that possibly qualify him for a post like that?
Above General, what other post was there? It could only be Inspector.
Could it be — had his strength as a Mixed Origin Grandmaster been exposed?!
After all, Shen Yi wasn’t the only one to have achieved Mixed Origin — there was Qiulan back in Qingzhou too. If this came to light, it would surely bring no end of trouble.
Jiang Yuanhua drew a deep breath, forcing down the worry churning in his chest, and cupped his fists in respectful salute. “Jiang Yuanhua of Qingzhou greets the Inspector.”
(End of Chapter)