"Master Chen, you've been promoted."
Chen Zhuo sat in the carriage Fifth Master had found for him, swaying with the bumps in the road.
His gaze fell on the waist token in his palm, complicated emotions in his eyes. His fingers gently rubbed the raised characters on it, and he fell silent.
They were his name and his unique number.
After a long while, Chen Zhuo heard the commotion outside the carriage and slowly came back to himself.
What he had once yearned for was now within easy reach?
Chen Zhuo smiled to himself, but a layer of frost seemed to settle over his eyes.
Love that came out of nowhere meant they were either after you or after your kidneys.
"Trying to make me the target of everyone's arrows?"
Chen Zhuo's thoughts turned, and he quickly figured out what the Long River Gang and Registrar Wang's people had in mind.
Beneath the title of Yamen Runner lurked naked killing intent.
The waist token in his palm wasn't a stepping-stone to help him rise. It was a dagger aimed straight at his heart.
His opponents probably didn't think him a fool. By handing him this token, they had made it clear that it was a trap.
But this was a trap he had no choice but to jump into.
What kind of place was the Northern Suppressing Faction?
He knew, and the clans and gangs of Baiyun County knew even better.
It was an institution beneath the imperial capital, wielding overwhelming power—and a treasure trove.
These days, which martial artist with a high enough cultivation and the right connections didn't know how greatly Demon Blood could aid one's martial cultivation?
Even though casualties among those serving in the Northern Suppressing Faction remained high year after year, would staying away