The Main Hall of the Discipline Inspection Court.
Ma Muzhi, Xiao Yan, and the other trusted mainstays of the Censorate were not looking at the Case Files in their hands. Instead, every one of them was staring at the bald man standing in the middle of the hall.
More precisely.
They were staring at the muscles threatening to burst out of his monk's robes, and the golden dragon faintly visible across his shoulder.
The immortals of the Heavenly Court prized an ethereal bearing.
Monks prized compassion.
And this fellow before them?
From any angle, he looked like a vicious bandit who had seized a mountain stronghold in the Mortal Realm. No matter how they looked at him, the words "proper monk" simply did not fit. If not for his gleaming bald head and the string of prayer beads around his neck, Ma Muzhi would have wanted to check him for demon aura.
"Since Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva said so..." Chen Wei casually set the bodhi leaf on his desk, lifted his teacup, and nodded. "All right, you can stay at the Discipline Inspection Court for a while. Delivering souls isn't our government office's responsibility, but these assignments should give you a chance to temper your character."
It was a polite formality.
When a High Immortal took in someone with connections, he had to offer a few words of encouragement and go through the motions to demonstrate the government office's authority.
Any Immortal Official who had spent even a couple of days in the Heavenly Court would have said, "Thank you for cultivating me, my lord. Your subordinate will faithfully carry out his duties."
But Fahai was not an Immortal Official. He was a reckless greenhorn.
"Lord Chen!"
Fahai pressed his palms together, the heavy flesh on his face pulled taut, and declared