Patrol Director Qi Shujian

Ten days later.

Beside the Well Platform that morning, Yi Yang finished his last round of stance training and lowered his arms, his qi and blood slowly settling.

Small words appeared before his eyes.

[Wood-Nurturing Longevity Art, fourth level: (18200/30000)]

[Nine Peaks Saber, major mastery: (3800/18000)]

[Five-Organ Internal Refining Force, minor mastery: (8700/15000)]

Ten days.

He had advanced on all three fronts together: taking medicine, eating meat, holding stances, practicing his saber. His schedule was tighter than that of a beast turning a millstone.

Over those ten days, Yi Yang had gone to the town butcher every few days, carrying back whole sides of lean meat. He had even arranged for someone to procure a few pounds of rarely seen mutant beast meat. Sliced thin and simmered in soup, its fragrance had all three people in the little courtyard drooling.

With those pills, Blood Qi Powder, and Blood-Strengthening Decoction, along with the daily grinding of stance training and saber practice, the amount his body could absorb kept growing, and the number of training rounds he could endure each day rose with it.

Yi Yang worked the abacus in his mind.

At his current pace, the fourth level of the Wood-Nurturing Longevity Art should reach completion in a little over half a month.

The threshold of the qi-blood fifth level organ refining realm lay right before him.

He clenched his fists. His knuckles gave a deep, ringing crack like metal striking stone, crisp and clean. Even he found the sound satisfying.

But a moment later, Yi Yang relaxed his fists and tucked his fingers back into his sleeves.

Someone passed outside the courtyard wall, cloth shoes scuffing the ground. It was Old Zhou, the tofu seller across the street, heading out to set up his stall.

Can't let anyone hear.

A sixty-year-old man's bones ringing like hammered iron would give every tea stall in town enough gossip to chew on for three days.

Yi Yang picked up his water bowl, drank half a mouthful, wiped his mouth, and went inside to change into his Heaven Patrol Office uniform.

It was time to report for roll call.

The same day. Noon.

Yunlin County City, south gate.

A hundred paces beyond the gate, a dense crowd stood along both sides of the official road.

Banners, carriages, armor, and silk parasols crowded together in a riot of colors, much like a temple fair.

But no one smiled.

No one could.

A Patrol Director.

An important figure of the inner qi realm.

No one of that caliber had appeared anywhere in Yunlin County in the past ten years. Now one was suddenly coming, and not a single group could sit still, from the city's greatest families to its smallest gangs.

They called it a welcome, but it was more a chance to sound him out.

The open ground before the gate had naturally divided into several sections occupied by the different powers.

The Three Great Families stood closest and displayed the greatest pomp.

The Zhang had sent their second elder, Zhang Fengxian. He was in his early fifties, with a square face and broad ears. His temples were frosted white, but his back remained ramrod straight. A veteran expert of the qi-blood sixth level, he stood before more than a dozen elite guards in immaculate armor. The reflections off their saber scabbards alone dazzled the eye.

The Wang Family had sent Wang Kun, an influential member of a collateral branch. He was around thirty, with a fair face and a constant hint of a smile, and had reached completion of the qi-blood fifth level. His clothes were made of the finest silk. This gentleman wore no saber at his waist, only a folding fan. With two personal guards and an attendant dressed like a clerk beside him, he looked far too refined to belong to martial circles.

The Li Family was the most interesting.

Their head, Li Chenyen, had come in person.

The most low-profile of the three great lineages had sent its patriarch himself. Clearly, the old man had weighed the situation before him again and again.

Li Chenyen was past sixty, thin and short, his gray robe washed to a faded finish. He had brought only two guards. He greeted no one and exchanged no pleasantries, standing in a corner at the outermost edge with his eyes half closed, no different from a retired old man who had come to bask in the sun by the city gate.

The three major gangs had all arrived as well.

Representatives of the Red Tiger Gang, the Black Blade Gang, and the Three Origins Society stood on either side with their own men. None spoke to the others, but the tension when their gazes crossed was more blatant than pointing sabers at one another and hurling curses.

Scattered among them were leaders of smaller and middling powers, along with several disciples from martial schools.

Everyone wore splendid clothes.

Everyone's heart was uncertain.

Once the Patrol Director made a move, every piece beneath him would have to be rearranged. Who could forge a connection, who would be purged, whose interests would be carved apart-every answer lay with the man about to arrive.

No one dared speak loudly.

Occasional whispers rose from the crowd, scarcely louder than mosquitoes, buzzing twice before dying away.

The Cloud Pattern Town stretch of road.

Yi Yang stood beneath an old elm beside the road, arms folded and eyes closed.

He had been stationed along the official road that day to provide security. Zhang Li stood five paces to his left, and Zhu Yuanshan to his right. Sun Hao, Huang Yushu, and Li Tong had also been called out and positioned farther away.

The entire Archive Hall had been mobilized, an unprecedented first.

With his eyes closed, Yi Yang opened all five senses, his hearing reaching several hundred paces in every direction.

The wind, insect calls, the crack of dry twigs as Patrol Guards shifted their footing, the breathing of distant townspeople peeking out from behind their doors.

Then an exceedingly faint vibration rose through the soles of his feet.

It had not come from human footsteps.

It was beast hooves.

Hearing them, Yi Yang opened his eyes.

At the far southern end of the road, a line of dust appeared.

It was not a loose cloud of yellow earth, but a gray-white ribbon of haze pressed extremely low, advancing steadily along the ground like the spine of a blade skimming water.

Hoofbeats followed. Deep, steady, heavy. Their rhythm was like war drums.

Every strike hammered the bluestone road. Even from several hundred paces away, the Patrol Guards beside the road could feel their soles going numb.

These were no ordinary horses.

Ordinary hoofbeats were quick and scattered. These carried a metallic weight, sounding like iron hammers striking anvils.

Zhang Li's expression changed, his throat tightening. "They're here."

Zhu Yuanshan instinctively straightened his back, his hand settling on his saber hilt without him realizing it.

Sun Hao opened his mouth but dared not make a sound. Huang Yushu's pupils narrowed. Li Tong stood at the rear, fists clenched so tightly his fingers had turned white.

Every Patrol Guard along the route fell silent at once.

All eyes turned south.

At the end of the dust line, three riders emerged.

One rode in front.

The rider wore a blue-gray robe without armor, the wind filling his clothes and snapping them loudly.

He was around fifty, with a lean face, slightly prominent cheekbones, and frighteningly deep-set eyes. His temples were gray, his hair tied with meticulous care. A vertical crease marked the space between his brows, like an old indentation left by something hard.

The horse beneath him was jet-black, nearly ten feet high at the shoulder. Gray scales covered its four hooves, every strand of its mane resembled iron wire, and its eyes glimmered a ghostly blue. White mist spread from the corners of its mouth with every snort. Shallow cracks remained in the bluestone beneath its hooves.

A mutant beast horse.

The man carried neither saber nor sword in his hands, and no weapon on his back. Only a black knotted cord hung at his waist, with a dark-red jade pendant the size of a thumb dangling from its end.

The Patrol Director.

Qi Shujian.

The two riders behind him rode mutant beast horses of the same kind, slightly smaller but with the same scaled hooves and iron manes.

On the left rode a bearded man in his thirties, a long saber slung across his back. Its scabbard was black iron, its guard shaped like a tiger's head. Though he kept his killing intent restrained, the air still grew stifling around him.

Song Tiecheng.

On the right rode a lean man in his forties, an iron staff laid across the front of his saddle. His face looked carved by a blade, and his gaze was cold and sharp.

Chen Wuya.

The three riders advanced at an unhurried pace.

They exerted no deliberate pressure.

Yet the aura of inner qi realm cultivators naturally spilled outward, like a mountain slowly moving toward you-impossible to stop or evade. An invisible current pressed the grass beside the road flat against the ground. Even the cicadas that had clamored all day in the old elm fell silent for two breaths.

As the three riders passed the Cloud Pattern Town stretch, they came within thirty paces of Yi Yang.

That oppressive force washed over everyone without distinction. It targeted no one, and could hardly even be called an intentional release. The strong merely passed by; their existence alone was enough.

The Five-Organ Internal Refining Force in Yi Yang's chest and abdomen began circulating on its own.

His heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys warmed slightly at the same time. An exceedingly thin layer of inner essence seeped from their walls, cushioning and dissolving the invisible pressure layer by layer.

Outwardly, he bowed slightly and lowered his head in greeting like everyone beside him, arranging his face into the nervous restraint of an elderly man intimidated by a grand occasion.

His breathing did not falter. His hands did not shake. His back bent exactly as much as it should, neither more nor less.

Qi Shujian's gaze slowly swept over the Patrol Guards beside the road, no differently from inspecting the bricks of his own courtyard wall.

It did not pause when it reached Yi Yang.

Graying hair, a stooped back, an old Patrol Captain.

No different from a roadside bollard.

After the three riders passed, their hoofbeats gradually faded.

But what Yi Yang had sensed in that instant was etched into the seams of his bones.

An inner qi realm cultivator's aura did not lie between skin and flesh, nor within sinews and bones. It radiated from the core of the dantian, from deep within blood and marrow. Like a fire compressed to its utmost limit, it showed no bright flame in ordinary times, but if it were truly released-

It would be something beyond anything the qi-blood realm could imagine.

This was the first time he had sensed the world above the qi-blood realm from so close.

And that world was not far from him. He, too, would reach it eventually.

Only after most of a quarter-hour had passed did the Patrol Guards beside the road dare straighten their backs.

Sun Hao discovered that his entire back was soaked. His lips trembled, unable to form a complete sentence.

Zhang Li braced his hands on his knees, his legs so weak he nearly sank to the ground, and swore, "Damn... so that's the inner qi realm? I wanted to kneel before they even reached me."

Zhu Yuanshan was pale but holding up reasonably well. He said quietly, "It wasn't wanting to kneel. Your body wanted to kneel on its own. Your qi and blood were suppressed, and your legs stopped obeying."

Zhao Gang returned from the forward lookout team at a jog and came up beside Yi Yang.

The lingering force of his shock still showed on his face. Wiping away sweat, he lowered his voice and poured out words like beans spilling from a sack.

"Old sir, Qi Shujian has a terrifying background."

Zhao Gang's voice was hoarse but excited, and he recited the details as though counting his own household treasures.

"Forty-seven years old, from the Northern Frontier army. Enlisted at nineteen, fought his way to the qi-blood sixth level on the battlefield by twenty-five. When he was thirty-one, the Barbarian Tribe launched a massive invasion of the Northern Frontier, and he was ordered to lead an eight-man squad into the Barbarian Royal Tent."

Zhao Gang swallowed and said, "Three barbarian guards at the qi-blood sixth level defended the royal tent, along with a priest suspected to be in the inner qi realm. He cut down all three sixth-level guards alone. When his saber broke, he used a spear. When the spear snapped, he used his fists. With his final slash, he took the Barbarian Vice-King's head."

Beside him, Zhang Li listened with his mouth hanging open.

Zhao Gang kept pouring out what he knew. "When he made it out alive, he had seventy-two blade wounds, eleven broken bones, and nearly lost his left eye. He held on for three days until reinforcements arrived, then spent half a year in bed before he could get up. After that battle, the Heaven Patrol Office made an exception and promoted him to Patrol Chief Candidate. He rose three ranks in ten years. Now he's a Patrol Director, at the inner qi second level, pure and turbid return to origin."

He tipped his chin toward the direction where the three riders had vanished.

"They say his Inner Energy can reach thirty paces beyond his body. One strike can shatter the bricks and stones of a city wall."

Zhang Li swallowed. "What about the two beside him?"

"They're no pushovers either. The bearded one is Song Tiecheng, and the one with the iron staff is Chen Wuya. Both are at the first level of the inner qi realm, qi sea formation. They've followed Qi Shujian through campaigns north and south for over a decade. There's no counting the lives on their hands."

Zhao Gang rubbed his fingers together and continued, "They say Song Tiecheng once chased a hall master of the Nine Evil Sect alone, from the northern end of Suining Prefecture to the southern end. Three hundred li. He ran the man to death, then cut off his head. Chen Wuya is even more ruthless. That iron staff of his specializes in cracking skulls. No cultist he sets his sights on lives to see the next day."

After hearing him out, Yi Yang merely nodded.

"Impressive."

The single hoarse word sounded no different from a compliment about that morning's well-cooked porridge.

Zhao Gang stared at him for a moment, feeling that the old man's composure was a little excessive.

Yi Yang did not explain.

His mind had already rounded several bends.

The second level of the Inner Energy Realm, Inner Energy reaching thirty paces beyond the body.

That meant Qi Shujian could stand motionless, and every living creature within thirty paces would be within his killing range.

Before someone at that level, a bone tempering realm cultivator did not even qualify to withstand a single move in a frontal clash.

But Yi Yang felt no fear.

It was not arrogance, but clearheadedness.

He knew exactly how much he weighed. Measured against all of Yunlin County, Suining Prefecture, or the Great Yu Empire, he was a grain in the vast ocean, not even a ripple.

But beyond the pressure, Qi Shujian's arrival brought a signal.

The Heaven Patrol Office was about to make a major move.

A great purge of the Nine Evil Sect would inevitably require manpower.

Missions meant merit, and merit could be exchanged for resources. Once the circulation of resources accelerated, pill prices in both the Black Market and legal markets would inevitably fluctuate.

Where there were fluctuations, there were gaps to slip through.

For an old man like him, who piled up resources to advance his cultivation, major operations in troubled times were often the best opportunities to scoop up bargains.

Yi Yang gathered his sleeves and followed behind the crowd on the way back.

Wind swept in from the official road, scattering the dust in the hoofprints left by the mutant beast horses.

Far away, before the city gate, representatives of the various powers were withdrawing. Some were pale, some walked with lowered heads in silence, and some were already whispering into their companions' ears, calculating their new allegiances.