The Demon-Slaying Bureau

Great Zhou Dynasty, Capital City.

Young Zhou Ping'an entered the imperial palace with a pounding heart. He didn't dare look up, much less glance around. All he could do was stick close to the old man walking ahead of him.

Zhou Ping'an had spent eighteen years in the Great Zhou Dynasty. That was right—he was one of the countless transmigrators.

But unlike those other transmigrators who were outrageously cool and powerful, Zhou Ping'an had no talent for cultivation.

Over the eighteen years since he'd arrived in the Great Zhou Dynasty, he'd tried countless cultivation methods, but every single one had failed.

In the end, Zhou Ping'an had accepted his lot. Since he was here, he might as well settle in and take good care of his mother in this world.

As for his father, he'd never once seen the man since transmigrating.

He'd asked his mother about him more than once, but she'd always been extremely evasive.

Then, a month ago, his mother knew her end was near. She gave him a token and told him to seek out the proprietor of the Capital City Treasure Pavilion. After entrusting him with a few things, she passed away.

After taking care of his mother's funeral, Zhou Ping'an went to the Treasure Pavilion and handed the proprietor a token engraved with the character for "demon."

That was how they'd ended up in the scene at the beginning. Without a word, the proprietor had led Zhou Ping'an into the imperial palace.

He'd thought the palace guards would stop them, but the old proprietor led him through the palace without so much as a pause, as if the inner palace were his own home.

After winding through the palace this way and that, the old proprietor brought Zhou Ping'an to a side hall. Three large characters hung above it: the Demon-Slaying Bureau!

"Crack!" Just as Zhou Ping'an stared in bewilderment, the floor split open, revealing a passageway before him.

"Whoosh! Whoosh!"

"Argh! Argh!"

In an instant, chilling winds swept through the darkness, where a series of shrill roars rang out.

Zhou Ping'an went pale. Those roars carried a force that shook the mind.

"Don't be afraid. They're just a few demons!" the old proprietor said kindly.

Zhou Ping'an's mouth twitched. Did the old proprietor hear himself? What did he mean, "just a few demons"?

Demons! He'd lived in the Great Zhou Dynasty for eighteen years and had never heard of any demons.

The old proprietor led Zhou Ping'an down the stairs. After who knew how long, Zhou Ping'an finally saw the ground.

"This is the Demon-Slaying Bureau's prison. It holds all kinds of demons and monsters. It's the Bureau's innermost sanctum. Even among the imperial family, few know it exists," the old proprietor explained.

"Can you read?" the old proprietor suddenly asked.

"Mm." Zhou Ping'an nodded.

"Then read this yourself." The old proprietor tossed him a thick book. On its cover were the words The Demon-Slaying Bureau Menial Manual.

"Zhang San, we have a new recruit. You're in charge of him." With that, the old proprietor turned and left.

A bald head emerged from the darkness. When the man came closer, Zhou Ping'an nearly hurled the book in his hands at him.

He was terrifying. Half the man's head had been sheared off. How had he survived such a severe injury?

"You're the new menial, surnamed Zhou? Are you Zhou Bu'er's son?" Zhang San glanced at Zhou Ping'an's file.

Zhou Ping'an nodded. Zhou Bu'er was the father he'd never met.

Zhang San's expression softened. The Demon-Slaying Bureau wasn't a place just any Tom, Dick, or Harry could enter. He hated nothing more than people who got in through connections. But the children of the Bureau's own members were another matter.

Zhou Bu'er had been a demon-slaying officer in the Bureau. Eighteen years ago, he'd died pursuing a great demon. Zhang San had lost half his head in that same battle.

As Zhou Bu'er's only child, Zhou Ping'an naturally qualified to enter the Demon-Slaying Bureau.

"Stick with me from now on. You just got here, so I won't assign you any work yet. Go pick up a uniform and find a room. Tomorrow morning, I'll show you around the Demon-Slaying Bureau prison and teach you the ropes." Zhang San patted Zhou Ping'an on the shoulder, his manner unmistakably warm.

"On second thought, I'll go with you. Those damn things love picking on newcomers." After saying this, Zhang San led Zhou Ping'an deeper into the Demon-Slaying Bureau.

"Head Zhang, what brings you here?" A menial hurried over to them.

"We've got a new menial. Get him a uniform—a brand-new one. Don't try to fob off some dead man's clothes on me. He's one of our own, not some nobody with connections." Zhang San snorted.

Ma Er looked at Zhou Ping'an, standing behind Zhang San, and his eyes lit up. "One of our own? Then we certainly can't neglect him. Wait here, Head Zhang. I'll pick out a good one."

Before long, Ma Er returned carrying a black uniform and a small porcelain bottle.

"You've got a good eye." Zhang San nodded in satisfaction when he saw the little bottle.

"Thank you, Uncle Ma!" Zhou Ping'an accepted the uniform and the bottle.

"Heh, no wonder he's one of our own. That sweet tongue of his!" Ma Er chuckled.

After sensing the goodwill Zhang San and Ma Er showed him, Zhou Ping'an's words turned as sweet as honey. Calling them Uncle with every other breath, he had the two men roaring with laughter.

After picking a room at random, Zhou Ping'an eagerly opened The Demon-Slaying Bureau Menial Manual.

The Demon-Slaying Bureau had been founded by the Great Zhou Progenitor. It recruited strange talents from across the land and was devoted to capturing demons and monsters.

That was right. This was a world with demons and monsters!

Before the Great Zhou Dynasty was established, demons and monsters had run rampant, wreaking havoc across the world and preying on humanity.

Legend had it that a great demon could destroy an entire kingdom in a single night!

Humans had been like livestock, never knowing if they'd see another dawn!

Then the Great Zhou Progenitor appeared. He unified the land, established the Demon-Slaying Bureau, and slaughtered demons and monsters, restoring peace to humanity.

The demons and monsters fled deep into the mountains. Though they still occasionally caused trouble, they were no longer a serious threat.

Though it was only a thin page, Zhou Ping'an saw a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. Humanity had paid dearly to defeat the demons and monsters.

Zhou Ping'an let out a long breath. He'd thought he could live a quiet, peaceful life in the Great Zhou Dynasty, given his abilities. But now it seemed this world was far more complicated than he'd imagined. Even demons and monsters existed. Heaven knew what other bizarre things lurked out there.

As a transmigrator, Zhou Ping'an might not have heaven-defying talent, but he had a gift of his own!

The ability he'd awakened on his eighteenth birthday—Longevity!

Longevity sounded impressive, but it only meant living a long time, not being immortal!

A single unlucky slash could still kill him.

Especially now that he knew demons and monsters existed in this world. Zhou Ping'an felt his ability was about as useful as a chicken rib.

I wonder if eating my own flesh would make me live forever. If so, wouldn't I be a knockoff Tang Sanzang? What would happen if those demons found out?

Joining the Demon-Slaying Bureau had been an accident, but after learning about it, Zhou Ping'an couldn't think of a place better suited to him.

The Demon-Slaying Bureau lay a hundred zhang beneath the imperial palace. Above it stood the palace guards and elite imperial warriors, while below it were the Bureau's demon-slaying officers. There was no safer place in the world than the Demon-Slaying Bureau prison.

The last page of The Demon-Slaying Bureau Menial Manual contained a cultivation technique called the Qi Nourishing Art.

It might have a simple name, but it was a technique forged by generations of the Demon-Slaying Bureau's strongest members, who had drawn on the cultivation methods of the world. It was a closely guarded Bureau secret.

If this technique ever leaked, countless martial artists throughout the Great Zhou Dynasty would fight over it.

Zhou Ping'an had obtained such a precious cultivation technique without lifting a finger. It went to show how important it was to be born into the right family.

A martial arts cultivation technique! It was exactly what Zhou Ping'an had dreamed of. Back then, he'd even sought out a martial arts school in the Capital City and paid to become a student. After training for several years and throwing a hundred taels of silver into it, he'd gotten nothing out of it.

If the boys who'd joined the school alongside him hadn't all made progress, Zhou Ping'an might have suspected the school was playing him for a fool.

After that, he'd realized he wasn't cut out for martial arts.

But now that the Qi Nourishing Art was right before him, his long-dormant desire to practice martial arts stirred once more.

The school had failed to teach him because it was no good!

Zhou Ping'an absolutely refused to admit that his inability to practice martial arts was his own fault.

"This is a Demon Blood Pill, refined from the blood of demons and monsters. It can strengthen your sinews and bones." Zhou Ping'an opened the little porcelain bottle. There were three pills inside.

According to the Demon-Slaying Bureau's rules, menials could claim only one Demon Blood Pill a month. Ma Er had given him three right off the bat. This kindness was no small thing.

The Demon Blood Pill was a secret formula of the Demon-Slaying Bureau. One pill was worth a hundred taels of gold, and it was impossible to buy one outside. On the black market, they could fetch as much as a thousand taels of gold each.

Zhou Ping'an carefully put away the Demon Blood Pills. He hadn't set foot on the martial path yet; taking one would be tantamount to suicide.

Following the instructions in the Qi Nourishing Art, Zhou Ping'an sat cross-legged on his bed and began to sense the spiritual energy between heaven and earth.

Sensing qi was the first step in practicing the Qi Nourishing Art. The most gifted could sense it in the time it took to drink a cup of tea, an average person in the time it took to burn a stick of incense, and someone with poor talent in three or four hours.

Yet Zhou Ping'an sat on his bed for an entire night and still couldn't find the so-called sensation of qi.

He couldn't help falling into deep self-doubt. Was his talent really that poor?

The Qi Nourishing Art was hailed as the finest basic cultivation method in the world. If even it couldn't help him sense qi, then he could pretty much give up on ever setting foot on the martial path.

I can't lose heart. So what if one night gets me nowhere? If one day isn't enough, I'll try two. If two aren't enough, I'll try a month. If a month isn't enough, I'll try a year. I live a long time. Even if I have to wear the stone down with time, I'll carve out a path in martial arts for myself. Zhou Ping'an vowed to himself.

After washing up, Zhou Ping'an changed into the uniform. It might be pure black, but it was light, breathable, and very comfortable. He had no idea what it was made of.

"Not bad. You look sharp—almost as dashing as I was in my day!" Zhang San nodded in approval.

"Uncle Zhang, what do menials do?" Zhou Ping'an looked at the enormous barrel behind Zhang San, which was tall enough to reach a man's chest.

"Heh heh. Draw blood!" Zhang San chuckled.

"Draw blood? Whose blood?" Zhou Ping'an was stunned.

"Demons' and monsters' blood?"

Zhou Ping'an immediately understood, and his little face went deathly pale.