It was deep into the night.
Ye Caiwei's breathing came from the inner room, light and even, like an early-spring stream trickling over pebbles—soft and steady.
Ye Qingxuan lay on the hard wooden bed in the outer room, eyes open as he stared at the blurred shadow cast by the moonlight across the rafters.
He couldn't sleep.
Deep within his body, the warm current newly born from cultivation mingled with a latent soreness, like a crouching beast reminding him that his strength was growing. But his mind was occupied with a more practical account.
Nine days.
He stretched out a finger and lightly traced it along the bedboard beside him.
The deadline Duan Tianbao had given him was down to nine days.
Fourteen taels of silver.
Those four words weighed on his heart like four mountains.
For an unregistered constable earning five hundred copper coins a month, even without eating or drinking, saving that much would take two years and four months.
Now he had the Martial Path Heavenly Machine Codex and the Indestructible Vajra Body. Strength was the foundation of breaking out of his predicament. But strength could not directly become silver.
He needed a way to turn strength into money.
And then there were expenses.
Last night's beef and eggs had cost nearly a hundred copper coins. That was only the beginning. Cultivating the Indestructible Vajra Body, a body-tempering art, was like lighting a furnace inside his body. Ordinary meals thrown into it would vanish without even making a sound. From now on, beef, large bones, eggs—all foods that replenished his qi and blood—could not be missing for even a day.
It was an endless stream of expenses.
The few copper coins wrapped in oiled paper inside the rice jar were the last of the savings he had scraped together after his father's death, less than one tael of silver in total.
Once he ate one meal, he would have no idea where the next would come from.
And there was that broken door.
During the day, he had propped it up with a wooden stick, but the wind was still strong at night, making it creak and groan like a gap that let the wind in, scattering the last bit of peace in the small courtyard. Hiring a carpenter to repair it would cost money too.
Even a single copper coin could bring a hero to his knees.
Only now did Ye Qingxuan truly understand how, in this murky world, every matter of oil, salt, firewood, and rice could wear a person down more than the grudges of the martial world.
He turned over to face the wall.
He couldn't rush.
The more pressing the moment, the calmer his heart had to be.
He sorted through his chaotic thoughts one by one, setting each matter straight in his mind.
First, he couldn't stop cultivating. That was his foundation.
Second, he had to find a quick and unobtrusive way to make money.
Finally, he had to reassure his sister.
"Big brother..."
A dreamlike murmur came from the inner room behind him.
Ye Qingxuan moved, quietly rose, and walked to the doorway of the inner room.
Under the moonlight, the little girl lay curled up beneath the quilt, her brows drawing together again.
He walked over and crouched beside her bed, reaching out to gently smooth the wrinkles between her brows.
"Nannan, don't be afraid." He spoke in a voice only he could hear. "Your big brother already has a way to deal with the money."
He was saying those words for his sister, but also for himself.
There would always be a way.
The next day, just after the mao hour, a layer of pale blue-white appeared along the horizon.
The Fengtian Division office in Southern District's alleys was still shrouded in morning mist. It was merely the most inconspicuous of the Fengtian Division's many branches in Linyuan Prefecture City, overseeing this bustling, mixed-up stretch of commoner streets.
The courtyard was not large. Its bluestone floor was pitted and uneven, with last night's dew pooled in the hollows.
Ye Qingxuan changed into a washed-out black uniform, hung the standard short blade at his waist, and entered the courtyard.
He had arrived fairly early.
There were already seven or eight people in the courtyard, all "unregistered temporary constables" like him. They stood in groups of two or three. Some leaned against the wall, yawning; others squatted on the ground, wiping their scabbards in the morning light while chatting idly.
By the eastern wall, three or four men had gathered around a sharp-faced fellow with a mouth like a monkey's. They were whispering and laughing, occasionally glancing toward the other end of the courtyard.
Under the pillars of the western corridor, two or three others stood in silence, each wearing an expression that said strangers should keep their distance.
This little courtyard was a miniature officialdom, with its circles clearly divided.
"Qingxuan, morning!"
A voice came from behind him, loud and boisterous.
Ye Qingxuan turned around. It was Wei Datong, nicknamed Monkey Head. He was also a temporary constable, a few years older than Ye Qingxuan. He was well informed and loose-lipped, always complaining about the world's injustice, yet never daring to truly stand up against it.
"Morning, Brother Monkey Head." Ye Qingxuan nodded.
"Had the day off yesterday and stayed cooped up at home all day?" Wei Datong sidled over, waggling his eyebrows. "What a waste. Two new Yangzhou slim horses arrived at the Hundred Flowers Pavilion south of the city. Those figures, tsk tsk..."
Ye Qingxuan did not respond, merely smiling.
Having made a fool of himself, Wei Datong changed the subject. "Have you heard? Last night, two more gambling dens on the Hungry Wolf Gang's turf in the west of the city were hit. Whoever did it was clean and decisive—one strike, then gone. Even the Hungry Wolf Gang's hidden sentries didn't react."
"Oh?"
"Heh, Linyuan Prefecture City is probably in for another bout of unrest." Wei Datong lowered his voice, but his face wore an expression of gloating delight.
Just then, a burly figure walked in.
It was Xiong Tiezhu, known as Big Mountain. He carried a thick-backed saber to match his build, and the ground seemed to tremble faintly with every step.
"Big Mountain." Ye Qingxuan greeted him.
Xiong Tiezhu gave a muffled "Mm" in response. He walked to a corner of the courtyard, set down his saber, ignored everyone else, and planted his feet in a horse stance. Then, with stiff precision, he began practicing his boxing form.
As his fists and feet moved, they stirred up a fierce wind. Clearly, he had some foundation in martial arts.
Wei Datong curled his lip and whispered to Ye Qingxuan, "That big fool only knows how to train. What use is strength alone these days? You need this."
He pointed at his own head, then toward the rear hall of the office.
The meaning was obvious.
Ye Qingxuan merely smiled again.
As the sky brightened, more people entered the courtyard.
When the chen hour arrived, the rear gate of the office opened.
Several men in brand-new black uniforms and long blades at their waists walked out. Their expressions were arrogant, their eyes looked straight ahead, and the aura around them was far more formidable than that of the temporary constables in the courtyard.
These were the official constables.
The moment they appeared, the courtyard's scattered chatter immediately died down. Wei Datong shut his mouth as well and instinctively shrank backward.
The official constables did not spare the temporary constables so much as a glance. They went straight to the eaves of the main building, chatting and laughing among themselves as they formed their own circle.
In their eyes, the temporary constables in the courtyard were perhaps no different from the peddlers and laborers outside the walls.
This was class.
Standing among the crowd, Ye Qingxuan watched it all without a change in expression.
He had long grown accustomed to this invisible barrier.
Another stick of incense passed before a sudden commotion came from the courtyard entrance.
The several official constables who had been chatting beneath the eaves immediately stopped talking and straightened, all turning toward the entrance.
The temporary constables in the courtyard held their breath as well.
A slightly plump, middle-aged man slowly walked in, surrounded by a crowd.
He wore a dark brocade robe beneath a black official uniform bearing the insignia of the Fengtian Division's Chief Constable. A jade belt encircled his waist, and his steps were steady.
"Chief Constable Zhang is here."
Wei Datong quickly whispered the words into Ye Qingxuan's ear in a voice as soft as a mosquito's.
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