The duty room had gone quiet.

Shen Yi held the brush with the awkward grip of someone who didn’t do this often, working to make each character at least legible if not elegant.

Back when the predecessor had been a street thug clawing his way toward a constable’s uniform, he’d made himself study — martial arts, social navigation, basic literacy. The muscle memory was there. The handwriting wasn’t pretty, but it passed.

The Blood-Corruption Bladework had been derived through the panel, every detail deposited directly into his mind, so transcribing it was straightforward enough.

When the duty shift ended.

Shen Yi set down the brush, waited for the ink to dry, and reached for the food Chen Ji had brought — yellow wheat rolls from Huang Ji on East Street, plus salted fish from the corner vendor’s shoulder-pole. Nothing remarkable, but filling.

He finished quickly, stood and stretched, and pushed through the door.

In the courtyard, Zhang Dahu was drenched in sweat and suffering through a warm-up routine, face set in a long-suffering expression. The Niu brothers and Chen Ji cycled through saber drills. Zhang Tuhu watched with a furrowed brow, kicking anyone whose form slipped.

“This whole county is relying on you lot to handle the demons?”

He looked up at the sound of the door, expression puzzled. “The one named Chen is barely passable. What are the rest of you supposed to be?”

The others hadn’t even formed a response when Zhang Dahu jumped in first. “Who wants to hunt demons? This is that clerk’s way of getting rid of us — he won’t be happy until we’re all dead!”

Zhang Tuhu paused at that, something clicking. He spat on the ground. “Absolute scoundrels.”

He’d only heard about the demon problem in Baiyun County after arriving, from his elder brother. Covering up demon incidents was common enough across the country — just last year, over ten county magistrates had been executed for it. But using the demons themselves as a tool to eliminate inconvenient people — that was a new low.

“Here.”

Shen Yi said nothing further, simply held out the transcribed bladework.

He needed to kill demons to accumulate lifespan — that was fundamentally at odds with the yamen’s agenda. Pressure through rules, or something more underhanded — either was to be expected.

“That quickly.”

Zhang Tuhu took the pages with some surprise. “What I worked out is, plainly speaking, just a body-refinement technique. By Qingzhou standards it’s considered the most accessible category — given enough time, there’s essentially no ceiling.”

He tucked the pages inside his jacket. “Don’t rush it. Ask me if something isn’t clear.”

“Thank you.”

Shen Yi nodded, said his farewell, and left the yamen carrying the fresh meat and spices he’d asked Chen Ji to buy.

“He cooks?” Zhang Tuhu scratched his head.

“If you’d seen what Constable Shen was like half a month ago.” Chen Ji steadied himself in his stance, exhaled slowly. “You’d understand that nothing about him would surprise you.”

“Is that so.” Zhang Tuhu didn’t argue — just smiled.

He’d never been to a small county like this before. What did they know about what a real talent looked like? In his assessment, Shen Yi had good character and solid ability — better than most. But nothing beyond that.

The sky had gone the color of burning coals.

Shen Yi knocked, pushed the door open.

The woman was asleep at the table, dark hair spread across the surface, face peaceful and clean against the wood. The slight furrow of her brows and the faint tremor of her lashes were the only signs of unease.

He walked over and looked at the thick stack of yellowed paper pressed under her forearm — ink-stained at the edges, with a smear of it at the corner of her mouth as well.

He picked up the brush beside her.

The tip was between her teeth.

He pulled it free.

“Mine — don’t—”

She bit down on the handle, mumbling, then blinked awake. “Ptch, ptch, ptch—“

She looked at the stack of paper immediately and started gathering it protectively. “I got through half of it—”

Then she noticed what was in his other hand. Her face changed entirely.

“It’s all yours from here!”

She took the meat and vanished into the back courtyard.

“…”

Shen Yi looked at the scattered pages on the table and gathered them carefully.

He went to the back kitchen.

Lin Baixi had her hair tied back, moving through the preparation with easy competence — washing vegetables, not looking up. She waved a hand. “Out. Out.”

He clearly wasn’t needed, so he sat in the courtyard and picked up the axe.

By the time the light had faded to near-dark, the ground was covered in a neat stack of firewood.

The smell of rice and braised meat drifted together into his nose.

He turned around.

She was standing behind him with chopsticks raised, balancing a piece of pork belly — half-lean, half-fat — blowing on it carefully, a confident expression on her face. “Open up. Tell me if the seasoning’s right.”

Two lifetimes of eating alone.

He leaned back instinctively, starting to say something — and the chopsticks were already in his mouth.

“Well?” Lin Baixi waited, full of expectation.

Not spectacular. Better than expected. Something like the big communal pots from his old life — rough around the edges, but exactly the kind of thing you ate three bowls of without noticing.

“Not bad at all.”

He dropped the axe and stood to go get the soup.

“Obviously.” Lin Baixi gave a small satisfied sound and clasped her hands behind her back like a chef receiving a compliment she’d already anticipated.

Then the front door shook on its frame.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Shen Yi, get out here!”

His steps slowed. His brow drew down. He turned and walked out.

Lin Baixi looked after him, said nothing, and moved back to the kitchen.

Five or six constables shouldered through the door.

Two figures entered behind them.

The first was a white-haired old man in a grey-blue robe, face dark with anger — Clerk Liu.

Behind him, the Gaunt Monk stood at ease, the expression of a man watching something he’d been looking forward to.

Out in the street, Chen Ji and the other three had blades at their shoulders, shoved against the wall, struggling against the hands holding them. Zhang Tuhu stood across the street, jaw set, fists the size of bowls drawn tight at his sides.

“The yamen trusted you with the responsibility of managing all demon matters.” Clerk Liu’s voice was shaking with it, fingers trembling as he pointed. “Two nights running — more than ten young children taken from within the county and the surrounding villages. And you lie at home doing nothing. Your entire duty room knew and said nothing—”

He drew breath, voice cracking with fury: “After all I’ve done for you, treating you like my own blood—”

“You deserve to die.“

“Our gate was open all day — we received no reports from anyone!” Chen Ji strained against the hand on his shoulder, voice loud. “If a family lost a child, why would they go to you instead of coming to us directly — Constable Shen’s name is known across the whole county—”

A sharp crack cut him off.

Clerk Liu lowered his hand. “Don’t add to it.”

As he spoke, more than twenty men came up the street — armed with crossbows, dressed not in constable uniforms but in the gear of the city garrison.

Clerk Liu turned to face Shen Yi.

“If the demons aren’t dealt with tonight, I’ll take your head.”

(End of Chapter)