I Can't Be Bothered to Listen, and You Are Even Less Worthy of Speaking

Zhao Heng's Villa.

Inside the study.

The jar of Da Hong Pao on the tea tray had been steeped once more; the color of the tea was lighter than before, but the fragrance remained.

On the desk, the roster of new recruits lay open, with the name Lu Yuan in the first column, accompanied by only a few sparse words of introduction.

Lu Yuan, five years of martial arts training, Mortal Realm second layer, descendant of a loyal martyr from Yun'an County, promoted directly to the Demon Suppression Division.

This was written by the clerk Old Zhou on Lu Yuan's first day of entry.

Zhao Heng lifted his teacup to take a sip, his gaze drifting toward the window.

Zhou Tong, Initial Realm third layer, was among the bottom tier of the Demon-Suppressing Guards; he couldn't handle tough battles, but he didn't make major mistakes either.

He was like a stone on a riverbank—pick one up and throw it, and it wouldn't even create a splash.

But people aren't stones; they must follow the rules and know when to advance or retreat.

If someone thinks that having hard fists is the only skill that matters, then they likely don't understand how things work.

A newcomer who had just joined dared to injure a Demon-Suppressing Guard who had been on the roster for seven years; regardless of who was right or wrong, this newcomer clearly didn't understand the rules.

Zhou Tong was at fault, but he had seniority.

No matter how justified Lu Yuan was, he was still just a newcomer, and he needed to be sensible.

Zhao Heng's gaze shifted to the iron fan on the wall; its nine ribs were forged from Black Iron, each one engraved with runes.

Closed, it was a short ruler, blunt and unadorned.

Opened, it was an iron fan, its cold edges hiding a sharp blade.

He was a man who never feared trouble, but he had always disliked his subordinates being overly aggressive or violent.

Because it was unnecessary.

The blades of the Demon Suppression Division should be pointed at demons, not at their own people.

Although Zhou Tong was at fault first and Lu Yuan's retaliation was understandable.

But being understandable was one thing, and injuring someone was another.

He wouldn't suppress or target Lu Yuan over such a trivial matter; that wasn't his style.

What he wanted was to bring this young man into his fold.

Not to suppress, but to recruit.

But before recruiting him, the proper stance had to be taken, and the necessary rules had to be established.

A light touch would suffice to let him know that he must never lay a hand on his colleagues again.

Zhao Heng went over what he wanted to say in his mind and glanced at the sun; the person should be arriving soon.

He looked back at the tea tray; the water was still hot, and there was enough tea.

He straightened his chair, tucked the roster into the drawer, and shifted the iron fan on the wall toward the center, making it look neat and balanced.

Not long after, footsteps echoed in his ears, and a figure walked into the courtyard.

Knock, knock, knock—

The sound of knocking on the door rang out.

"Come in."

Zhao Heng looked up toward the doorway as a young man dressed in black robes walked in.

His face was handsome and refined, but what caught one's attention most were his eyes, as bottomless as a deep winter pool.

"Lord Zhao." Lu Yuan bowed slightly. "I heard you were looking for me?"

Zhao Heng nodded, gesturing for him to sit opposite, and poured a cup of tea, pushing it toward him.

"You've just joined the Qingzhou Demon Suppression Division; are you getting used to it?"

"It's alright."

Lu Yuan picked up the teacup and took a sip.

Zhao Heng nodded, seemingly waiting for the young man to say more, but Lu Yuan had no intention of continuing.

He sighed inwardly; it seemed he was a man of few words.

But how could they talk if he didn't speak?

Zhao Heng tapped his fingers on the desk, deciding to get straight to the point.

"I've heard about the conflict between you and Zhou Tong. He caused trouble, you fought back; it's hard to say who is right or wrong."

"I have no intention of taking his side, I just want to tell you that your fists shouldn't be turned against your own people."

"In the Demon Suppression Division, no matter how capable you are, you must follow the rules. If there is a dispute, go to the Disciplinary Hall first. If the Disciplinary Hall cannot handle it, you are welcome to come directly to me."

"You are new, so you might not be familiar with the rules. From now on, learn more and remember them well."

After speaking, Zhao Heng lifted his teacup to take a sip, waiting for the other's reaction.

Based on past experience, newcomers usually nod in agreement upon hearing these words, muttering things like "Lord Zhao is right" or "I will be careful in the future."

However, Lu Yuan's eyes remained calm. "Is that all? Is there anything else?"

Zhao Heng frowned slightly, feeling that the remark was rather impolite.

But he quickly smoothed his brow.

There were many troublemakers in the Demon Suppression Bureau; some were intentional, while others were truly ignorant.

Lu Yuan's expression was calm, not appearing to be provocative.

Yet, this indifferent attitude made him feel displeased.

Zhao Heng's expression shifted slightly, and he said in a serious tone:

"I didn't call you here to punish you, but simply to tell you that you must follow the rules in the Demon Suppression Bureau."

"Zhou Tong broke the rules first, so your actions were understandable."

"But since you injured someone, you must provide an explanation, otherwise—"

"Enough, I understand."

Lu Yuan interrupted, having already grasped the other man's intent.

Wasn't it just that his subordinate had been beaten, and the boss wanted to save face?

It was something that could be said in a single sentence, yet he had sent a letter, served tea, and rambled on for half the day.

"You want an explanation? Fine. If you aren't satisfied, then let's settle it with our strength."

Lu Yuan's tone carried an undisguised arrogance.

As the words fell, Zhao Heng's face turned completely gloomy.

He had been in the Demon Suppression Bureau for nine years, rising from the lowest-level bailiff to a Demon Suppression Captain, and he had never seen a newcomer dare to speak like this.

It was completely lawless!

He narrowed his eyes slightly, a cold glint flashing within his long, slender pupils.

"Do you know who you are talking to? Apologize immediately, and I might still forgive your stupidity just now."

"Perhaps you don't realize that the gap between you and me is even greater than you imagine."

"If I make a move, you will live in my shadow for the rest of your life, and your cultivation will never advance another inch."

With that, a sharp sensation surged from his body, and he stood there like a drawn blade, overflowing with killing intent.

"Cut the crap. I'm too lazy to listen, and you aren't even worthy of speaking!"

Lu Yuan shouted, his spiritual power pouring out like an abyss-like sea.

At this moment, Zhao Heng finally realized something was wrong.

He grabbed his iron fan, closed it, and lunged forward, the tip of the fan pointing straight at Lu Yuan's chest.

Lu Yuan did not dodge at all, reaching out to grab the iron fan. Beneath his sleeve, his hand turned a grayish-white, resembling that of a corpse.

Zhao Heng's expression changed slightly. Grabbing an iron fan with bare hands?

Who was he looking down on?

He twisted his wrist, snapping the fan open, and the nine fan ribs sliced toward Lu Yuan's fingers like blades.

Sparks flew!

Lu Yuan closed his fingers, instantly locking onto the fan ribs. His grayish-white hand clamped the iron fan like an iron vice, holding it completely motionless.

Zhao Heng's expression changed completely.

But it was already too late.

Lu Yuan delivered a clean, heavy kick, his toe slamming fiercely into Zhao Heng's abdomen.

Just as Zhao Heng was marveling at how Lu Yuan could withstand the iron fan with his bare hands, an incomparably powerful force surged from his lower abdomen like a tidal wave.

In that instant, he felt as if he had been struck by a meteorite from the heavens, his entire body swept up by the massive force and sent flying backward.

A massive indentation was smashed into the wall of the study, with spiderweb-like cracks spreading in all directions.

Zhao Heng struggled to prop himself up, gritting his teeth as he looked ahead.

He saw that his Black Iron fan, which he treasured like a precious artifact, was being crushed into a pile of scrap metal in Lu Yuan's hand with a series of clicks.

"You dare destroy my magical artifact!!!"

Zhao Heng was incensed, his spiritual power erupting as he prepared a lethal strike.

But he saw the figure in his vision darting forward at high speed, arriving before him in the blink of an eye.

"Now it's your turn."

A sharp pain struck, his vision went black, and he instantly lost consciousness.

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