The army returned, with Yi Zhanzhi surrounded by admirers

Ten days later, early morning.

The blue bricks beside the Well Platform were cold with dew. Yi Yang finished his last round of the Yi Wood Longevity Stance, lowered his arms, and let his qi-blood slowly settle.

The sounds coming from between his bones had changed.

They were no longer little cracks and clicks, but deep notes like metal striking stone, vibrating twice beneath his flesh before fading. Even he was momentarily dazed by the sound.

Small text appeared before his eyes.

[Wood-Nurturing Longevity Art, fourth level: (29460/30000)]

Five hundred and forty.

Just five hundred and forty points to go.

Yi Yang clenched his fists. As his knuckles pressed together, they made a sound like metal scraping metal.

After days of relentless medicinal baths and the grinding pressure of stance practice, his bone-tempering-realm skeleton was packed full of qi-blood. Every gap between his bones felt as though it had been cast in red-hot molten iron. Force in one more thread, and it would overflow.

The qi-blood fifth level. The organ refining realm.

He stood just one step from that door.

Honestly, he wanted to go straight back inside, heat some water for a medicinal bath, and grind out that last bit of progress.

But Yi Yang unclenched his fists.

The closer he came to that final step, the more he feared missing his footing. A breakthrough was not something to rush. Today's cultivation had already reached its limit, and he had no idea whether forcing further improvement with a medicinal bath might leave hidden problems. Better to wait.

He would report for duty as usual during the day.

When he returned tonight, one medicinal bath and a few rounds of stance practice would be enough.

Yi Yang rotated his wrists, drew half a bucket of water from the well, and washed his face. The water rippled, reflecting an old face.

Compared with half a year ago, this face had changed so much that even he found it absurd. The wrinkles remained, but the creases had grown much shallower. Beneath his skin was a rich, healthy flush-not a sickly redness, but the vitality of a man in his prime.

The black at the ends of his hair had crept upward by nearly another half inch.

Wrapped in a head of white hair, it was not especially conspicuous, but if it kept growing like this, he might have to wear a hat outside.

"Grandpa."

The kitchen door creaked open, and Jiang Yuexin emerged with a bowl of hot porridge.

The girl walked into the courtyard, set the bowl on the stone table, and looked up at Yi Yang.

Then she looked again.

On her third look, her gaze swept back and forth over the few black strands at the ends of his hair. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

Yi Yang picked up the porridge and took a sip.

"What are you staring at? Have flowers sprouted on my face?"

Jiang Yuexin pressed her lips together, twisting the corner of her apron between her fingers. After several attempts to speak, she finally squeezed out half a sentence. "Grandpa, are you... getting younger and younger?"

Yi Yang set down the bowl and patted his chest.

"Of course. Your grandpa only grows stronger with age. The longer I live, the more lively I get."

He paused, his tone lightening in a way it rarely did.

"Give it a little longer. Once Grandpa sorts out what he has on his hands, I'll see if I can earn some major merit. Then we might have a chance to move to the county seat and enjoy the good life there."

Jiang Yuexin froze for a moment.

The county seat?

The girl lowered her head and took Yi Yang's empty bowl, her voice soft.

"Grandpa, things are already pretty good as they are."

She raised her eyes again, letting her gaze linger on his face for two breaths.

"I just feel... you've been so full of vitality lately, Grandpa. You don't really look sixty."

"All right, all right. Stop worrying about your grandpa's age. Lock the door, and don't let any strangers into the courtyard."

With that, Yi Yang changed into his Heaven Patrol Office uniform, hung his regulation saber at his waist, and headed out.

As he reached the corner at the alley's entrance, he slowed his steps.

Yang Hui's steamed-bun stall stood in its usual spot by the road. White steam rose from the baskets, carrying the smell of meat straight into his nose. He could smell it from more than a dozen paces away, and it set his stomach itching with hunger.

"Uncle Yi!"

Seeing him, Yang Hui poked her long chopsticks into a steamer, picked out two large meat buns, wrapped them in oiled paper, and held them out.

"Didn't get enough breakfast, did you? Here, have these to tide you over."

Yi Yang accepted them and took a bite. The meat juices scalded his mouth. He hissed, but could not bear to spit them out.

"How's business?"

"Not bad." Yang Hui wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, her voice loud enough for Old Zhao at the wonton stall next door to hear. "Sold over thirty this morning, and I'd been open less than an hour. I have to say, the townsfolk really do appreciate my cooking."

As she shifted the steamer baskets around, she added casually, "Oh, Uncle Yi, I heard from customers that the army sent to wipe out the evil sect is coming back today. Lots of people in town are getting ready to welcome them. Some have even gone to sweep the main road to the south."

Yi Yang nodded as he chewed his bun, offering no reply.

Inwardly, however, he ran through the calculations.

With the army back, the Heaven Patrol Office would return to full strength. Training, patrols, and investigations would resume in full. His window for quiet cultivation would close tonight.

Perfect.

I'll break through tonight. Starting tomorrow, this old man at the qi-blood fifth level will keep lying low just as before.

Yi Yang stuffed the last bite of bun into his mouth, waved to Yang Hui, and ambled toward the Heaven Patrol Office.

The moment he reached its gates, he sensed a different atmosphere.

Gone was the usual half-dead air of idleness. The Patrol Guards who had stayed behind were clustered together, wearing complicated expressions of mingled excitement and regret, much like gamblers watching someone else win.

Yi Yang had barely crossed the threshold when Sun Hao rushed over.

His round face was flushed bright red, and his lips flapped fast enough to blow out a candle.

"Sir! News from the front! The army will reach Cloud Pattern Town around noon today! They've won a sweeping victory-the Nine Evil Sect's Branch Altar in Yunlin County has been uprooted!"

Yi Yang put on a pleased expression and nodded. "Good news."

He had only taken a few steps farther inside when Li Tong ran into the Archive Hall from outside, panting as though a dog had chased him around the block.

"Sir! I've found out! Deputy Patrol Director Chen Wuya personally killed Huang Qinghe, the Nine Evil Sect's Yunlin County hall master, along with several Grand Stewards! The fighting was far less intense than expected, and casualties among the Patrol Guards were minimal!"

At that, Sun Hao's whole face fell.

He crouched in a corner, clutching his head, and wailed like a pig being slaughtered.

"It's over, it's over, it's over... Merit served right up to my mouth, and I didn't go! Third-grade pills! Three of them!"

Li Tong slapped his thigh too. "If I'd known it would be this easy, I'd have signed up even if it killed me."

Yi Yang opened a file without lifting his head.

With an inner-qi-realm expert personally overseeing the operation, those beneath him had gone merely to scoop up ready-made merit. Where was the danger?

From the outset, Qi Shujian's plan had never been to make his subordinates risk their lives. He wanted a clean, decisive crushing victory-to overturn the Nine Evil Sect's power base at minimal cost while making everyone who participated owe him a favor.

Now that was how to play the game.

As noon approached, Deputy Patrol Chief Qian Hu issued an order: all personnel who had stayed behind were to form ranks at the town's southern gate to welcome the returning troops.

Yi Yang followed the flow of people out of the Heaven Patrol Office and reached the main road by the town entrance.

The sun blazed overhead.

Over a hundred Patrol Guards stood in ranks on either side, their unfurled banners snapping in the wind. Many townsfolk had also come after hearing the news, gathering at a distance and pointing things out to one another. It was livelier than watching a lion dance at New Year.

Yi Yang stood at the very end of the formation, his old blue robe draped over his official uniform, his back bent. He looked no different from an old bean pod wilted by the sun.

Before long, a line of dust rose in the distance.

Hoofbeats approached, dense and heavy, pounding the main road until the soles of his feet tingled.

Yi Yang sharpened his hearing, teasing patterns out of the clamor of hoofbeats and voices. Most of the men had intact qi-blood, and few were wounded. The horses' hoofbeats were orderly, with no dragging or panic.

As the column drew closer, sunlight flashed blindingly off armor, and banners stretched in a continuous sweep. Several experts at the qi-blood fourth level or above led the way, followed by Patrol Guards from the various branches. Supply wagons brought up the rear, loaded with substantial spoils.

Then a sight caught Yi Yang's attention.

Toward the front of the column's middle section, a youth was surrounded by more than a dozen people.

They were not merely ordinary Patrol Guards; several Patrol Captains were among them. They crowded around the youth, laughing and chatting, pouring out flattery as if it cost nothing. Their smiles were so broad their faces looked ready to cramp.

The youth wore the Martial Garment of the Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall. Dried, dark-red blood still marked the long saber at his waist. His features were sharp, and his chin always sat a little higher than everyone else's.

Yi Zhanzhi.

Yi Yang's eyelid twitched, then lowered.

Once the column stopped, the scene erupted.

The returning Patrol Guards mingled with those who had stayed behind. Some clapped shoulders, some offered waterskins, and others grabbed acquaintances to ask about the fighting. The din outdid a marketplace.

Yi Yang lingered at the edge of the crowd. Without even deliberately sharpening his hearing, news poured into his ears.

"Yi Zhanzhi single-handedly killed a Nine Evil Sect steward at the qi-blood third level!"

"They traded blows head-on, and he finished that fiend in fewer than thirty moves!"

"Seventeen! Qi-blood third level, killing another at the qi-blood third level! Find me a second person in this whole town who could do that in real combat!"

"The Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall has earned all the prestige it could ask for this time. That bad luck from the Desolate Village has been swept clean away."

"I heard even Director Chen praised him. Just two words-'not bad.'"

Yi Yang mulled over these remarks, his expression unruffled.

At seventeen, trading blows with and killing another third-level opponent was certainly an achievement worth displaying. Among ordinary martial artists, he counted as an outstanding young talent.

But just how strong had that steward been?

Was he a monster like Wang Gongqin, who had reached the peak of the fourth level and swallowed a Blood Origin Pill, or some nobody who had only just scraped past the third-level threshold?

In an extermination campaign overseen by an inner-qi-realm expert, the quality of the opponent assigned to you was much like the cabbages left to choose from at a market. The big, tough ones had already been picked off by those above.

Only the people involved knew how much padding lay between the merit claimed in words and their actual ability.

Of course, Yi Yang would not say any of this.

An old man only needed to enjoy the spectacle. Why invite trouble?

Just as the crowd reached its liveliest, the rumble of carriage wheels over stone slabs came from the town entrance.

An enclosed carriage stopped by the roadside. Its curtain lifted, and Yi Xun jumped down first.

The old man wore a new robe today, his belt neatly fastened and his beard freshly trimmed. The steward Liu Fu and his daughter-in-law Song Yi followed him. All three hurried forward, their smiles louder than New Year's firecrackers.

"Zhan Zhi! Zhan Zhi!"

Yi Xun called out from afar, his voice trembling. Every wrinkle on his old face unfolded as he smiled like the Laughing Buddha.

Yi Zhanzhi stepped out of the crowd. He had not wiped the blood from his Martial Garment or removed the long saber at his waist.

Grandfather and grandson embraced in full view of everyone.

Yi Xun patted his grandson's shoulder again and again, with considerable force. His eyes reddened as he murmured without end.

"Good boy... good boy... the pride of the Yi Family..."

Song Yi stood beside them, twisting her handkerchief into a ball in her palm. Tears swam in her eyes, but she stubbornly kept them from falling. The corners of her mouth curled high enough to hang a scale weight from.

Liu Fu smiled deferentially behind them, cupping his hands to everyone he met. "You're all too kind. Far too kind."

Those around them offered congratulations, fine words flowing like water.

Yi Yang stood at the end of the formation, a good thirty or forty paces from the lively scene.

He watched grandfather and grandson embrace, watched tears stream down Yi Xun's old face, and watched the smiles filling the onlookers' faces, unmoved. Strength was what had earned this fanfare.

If Yi Yang wished, his strength at the qi-blood fourth level could draw a whole crowd of flatterers too. But what use would that be?

Once his strength broke through to the inner qi realm, even the great lineages of the Inner City would receive him as an honored guest.

With Yi Xun and Song Yi clustered around him, Yi Zhanzhi turned to leave, already taking his first step.

But in the instant he turned, he paused for half a breath.

The youth's gaze passed over the noisy crowd and landed precisely on the stooped old man at the end of the formation.

Their eyes met.

Yi Zhanzhi's gaze was complicated.

There was ostentation, contempt, and a trace of something difficult to name-a feeling like a student carrying a perfect exam paper who, passing an expelled classmate, simply had to take another look to make sure the other had seen his score.

Do you see?

This is the gap between us.

Seventeen, qi-blood third level, Personal Disciple of the Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall, and the single-handed killer of a Nine Evil Sect steward.

And you?

Sixty, an old bag of bones reading papers in the Archive Hall, ranked thirty-fourth.

You'll never catch up to me in this lifetime.

Reading the message in that gaze, Yi Yang looked back without expression.

His glance was as indifferent as if he had noticed an extra blade of grass growing by the road.

Then he looked away.

Yi Zhanzhi withdrew his gaze, taking Yi Yang's reaction for shame and regret. A brief, derisive snort escaped his nose.

The youth turned and strode away.

His back was straight and swaggering. The wind billowed his new Martial Garment, and the long saber at his waist swayed with his steps, its dried blood gleaming dark red in the sunlight.

Yi Yang gathered the cuffs of his old blue robe, his gaze returning to the blue stone slabs beneath his feet.

He silently repeated that string of numbers.

Twenty-nine thousand four hundred and sixty.

Five hundred and forty to go.