Having caught a glimpse of hope after so long, Zhang Xuan had no patience left to wait.

He grabbed Jiang He and shouldered his way through the crowd.

“Hey, watch it!”

The people who’d been queuing for ages shot him irritated looks, but one glance at the grim black armor on the man was enough — they rolled their eyes and let it go without a word.

“Excuse me, pardon me.”

Zhang Xuan bowed apologetically to the crowd on all sides, then stepped through into the offices.

Liu Kun had just set down his brush. He looked up and found himself staring at that long-suffering face. “…”

He groaned inwardly.

Song Prefecture came to the War Temple for aid practically every six months like clockwork, and every time they scraped together enough merit to make the trip to the capital, the first words out of Zhang Xuan’s mouth were about the demon troubles back home. The man was basically a fixture at this point.

“For reporting merit, the queue’s around the back…”

Liu Kun sighed internally, already composing a vague brush-off, but before he’d finished the sentence, he watched Zhang Xuan wordlessly yank the person behind him forward.

Jiang He gave a sheepish grin and scratched the back of his head.

Liu Kun went quiet for a moment, recognizing the man at a glance as a War Temple disciple. This particular crowd was complicated to deal with at the best of times.

Pushed along by Zhang Xuan’s nudging, Jiang He spoke up, somewhat reluctantly. “I — I’m acquainted with Commander Shen. Would you be able to put in a word for us, younger brother?”

Hearing the notable lack of confidence in those words, Zhang Xuan’s heart sank immediately.

Of course. Just empty boasting, as usual.

But with no other options available, he could only stare blankly at Liu Kun, seated behind the counter.

“…”

Liu Kun sighed, stood up, and walked toward the curtain. “Wait here. I’ll go inform the Commander.”

He stood outside and murmured a few words, then got a quick answer.

“Send them in.”

“Understood.”

Shen Yi probably didn’t know yet just how hard to shake Zhang Xuan of Song Prefecture truly was — a legitimate Demon Suppression General who behaved like a drowning man, grabbing onto any pole he could reach, clutching any rope he found and refusing to let go. He wasn’t going to be dealt with in three words or two.

Liu Kun returned to the counter, glanced at Zhang Xuan, gritted his teeth, and muttered just loud enough for the two of them to catch: “Commander Shen is a War Temple disciple.”

This single sentence did two things at once: it established Shen Yi’s elevated standing, and it conveyed one crucial piece of information.

Unlike disciples-in-training, War Temple disciples were all divine-spirit cultivators — not Mixed Origin Grandmasters.

Think carefully, in other words, before opening your mouth — consider whether you really want to make an enemy of a young prodigy who’d come here for a comfortable sinecure.

At these words, Zhang Xuan froze on the spot, then turned and stared at Jiang He beside him.

He’d known the man’s words were laced with embellishment — he hadn’t realized just how much. The man didn’t even have basic facts like this right, and he’d still had the nerve to claim they’d sparred together.

Jiang He’s eye twitched twice, and he very decisively closed his mouth.

“Well, go on in, then — are you waiting for the Commander to come out and personally invite you?” Liu Kun shot them both a glare.

Now that he’d already announced them, there had to be some kind of proper process.

Zhang Xuan stepped forward, his expression dull, ducking to lift the long curtain. Jiang He, whatever his other failings, still had enough decency for this much, and hurried along behind him.

The second time he’d laid eyes on that young man.

The man sat quietly behind the desk in a black robe, his handsome face somewhat young in appearance — and yet, looking at it now, Jiang He found it carried an air of authority that he couldn’t quite explain.

Inspector of the Demon Suppression Division. Presiding over the Demon Suppression central offices across the Nine Provinces. Nominal oversight of every clan, sect, and family in the land.

Whether any of that authority actually held in practice was another matter entirely — but at least in name, every demon in Great Qian fell under his jurisdiction.

Jiang He started to cup his fists, then immediately felt something was off. Every carefully prepared pleasantry scrambled itself inside his head until he couldn’t get a single sentence out.

“Say what you came to say.”

Shen Yi gave a small nod, and at the sound of his voice, both men’s tightly wound shoulders dropped just slightly.

“This subordinate is Zhang Xuan of Song Prefecture. Greetings, Commander Shen.”

Zhang Xuan did his best to look less nervous than he was, completed his bow with full propriety, and found himself suddenly at a loss for where to begin.

If the man wasn’t a Mixed Origin Grandmaster, bringing it up at all would be pointless. But staying silent would look like provocation directed at the Inspector. Either way felt wrong.

The voices from earlier hadn’t escaped Shen Yi’s ears.

He knew what the man was worried about, and let his voice soften by a degree. “Speak plainly. Besides being a divine-spirit cultivator, I also have some familiarity with body-tempering methods.”

Body-tempering methods?

Zhang Xuan looked up with a pained smile. But since the man had already seen through what was on his mind, he dropped the hedging. “Commander, Song Prefecture has two demon kings causing havoc. We’re… at the very edge of what we can hold.”

“Two of them?”

Shen Yi rose from his seat and came around in front of them.

Zhang Xuan seemed to have been holding it in for a very long time, and even if nothing came of it, he at least wanted to air his grievances before a superior. “These demon kings—”

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before he watched Commander Shen step right past both of them and head toward the exit.

What was happening?

Shen Yi lifted the curtain and looked back mildly. “No need to rush. Tell me on the road.”

Zhang Xuan froze again. Jiang He gave him a discreet shove, and only then did the realization hit him — what had just happened.

Commander Shen was planning to make an inspection visit to Song Prefecture?!

He’d come to these offices more times than he could count, and never once encountered anything this swift and decisive.

“Why are you overthinking it — bringing the Inspector back with you has got to beat going back alone!”

Jiang He gritted his teeth, practically shaking him.

At that, Zhang Xuan came to his senses and hurried after them, stepping out of the partition — and immediately found Liu Kun staring daggers at him from behind the counter, as though he’d have liked nothing better than to eat him alive.

“Commander Shen, you’ve only just arrived at the War Temple — I mean, this subordinate doesn’t mean to overstep — it’s just — let me go and prepare a carriage for you.”

Liu Kun stammered through the offer, but saw Shen Yi simply shake his head.

“No carriage. Just get me two good horses.”

Even General Chen Qiankun had managed to acquire demon-horses of extraordinary ability — the Demon Suppression Division’s central offices would surely have mounts of finer quality still.

Liu Kun moved at speed, darting out and returning quickly with two jet-black demon-horses in tow, their entire bodies covered in scales, as though sheathed in a layer of black armor.

“Commander Shen, should you not at least let Commander Wu know before you go?”

He held the reins and watched helplessly as Shen Yi swung himself into the saddle. Was this really how one went about official business?

An Inspector going out on patrol across the Nine Provinces — no troops assembled, no official dispatches sent, just riding out on horseback like that?

Zhang Xuan climbed mechanically onto the other demon-horse, still feeling as though his head was slightly disconnected from the rest of him. By the time he’d had a chance to register what was happening, both horses had already lifted their hooves and set off toward the city gates.

“And they’re already going?”

Liu Kun watched the demon-horses disappear around a corner, then gave himself a sharp slap across the face.

The Inspector who’d been personally invited back just yesterday had spent a single night in the capital and left.

The War Temple, Jia section.

Wu Dao’an stood before the small courtyard with his hands clasped behind his back and cleared his throat. “Junior Brother Shen, I’ve come to check in on you.”

The man had only received the Three Origins Immortal Ascension Method the day before — while he certainly couldn’t point Shen Yi toward a particular path, there was nothing wrong with expressing a little concern.

He waited quietly for a moment.

The door remained shut. No response came.

“Junior Brother Shen?”

Wu Dao’an frowned slightly, raising his voice a touch more.

He let his hands fall from behind his back.

The man was a divine-spirit cultivator, after all — surely he hadn’t been so tired from the journey that he was still in bed at this hour.

(End of Chapter)