The Pacification Bureau's surveillance

The Pacification Bureau's compound, with its blue bricks and black tiles, resembled a giant beast lying dormant in the center of town.

In a secret room in the rear courtyard, the light was dim, with only a single ghostly green spirit-flame lamp burning.

Bang!

A dossier was slammed heavily onto the desk.

A man in black official robes sat in a grand armchair, his face lean and stern, his eyes boring like awls into Zhao De, who knelt below him. The spiritual pressure emanating from the man made a mortal head constable like Zhao De afraid even to breathe too loudly.

The fifth level of Qi Refinement. In this remote little town, that already made him a living King of Hell who could swagger wherever he pleased.

"You're saying that man cracked Zhao Fugui's hand bones with one light slap? And there wasn't the slightest fluctuation of Spiritual Qi on him?" The black-robed man's voice was cold and hard.

Zhao De knelt on the floor, cold sweat soaking his back, and kowtowed like a chick pecking grain. "Please see the truth, my lord! I wouldn't dare utter a single lie! There's definitely something strange about that brat, and that woman in the house too-the moment she opened her mouth, she was quoting our Pacification Bureau's resettlement regulations. She knew them inside out! I was afraid of violating the bureau's rules, so I hurried back to report..."

Passing the buck was a basic qualification for anyone working in a government office.

The black-robed man narrowed his eyes, tapping his fingers lightly against the desk. "No spiritual power, just his flesh and blood... a body cultivator hiding among the migrant households?"

He turned toward a subordinate in the shadows and ordered coldly, "Household D-35 in Golden Lake Village. Send Swallow to watch them. Don't stir the grass and startle the snake yet. Find out just what sort of gods they are."

"Yes, sir!"

Two days later, at dusk.

In Golden Lake Village, the setting sun stained the reed beds blood-red.

Crack!

Bare-chested, Lin He swung the short-handled woodcutting saber in his hand into a blurred afterimage, splitting a log as thick as a large soup bowl precisely down the middle. The cut was as smooth as though it had been polished with sandpaper.

He had not used much strength. He was simply using woodcutting as cover to hone his body after its three temperings with Essence of the Sun.

Goudan raced wildly around the muddy yard, chasing its own short tail and quacking madly. In the pool, the snapping turtle Ingot slowly surfaced, cast Goudan a contemptuous glance with its tiny mung-bean eyes, leisurely blew a large bubble, and sank again.

It was a picture of peaceful country life.

Yet Lin He's peripheral gaze drifted almost imperceptibly toward the house next door.

Two days earlier, a pair of new neighbors had moved into that empty wooden house. The man had a weathered face and claimed to be a blacksmith who had fled famine in the north; the woman wore coarse cloth clothes and a gray headscarf wrapped tightly around her head, acting every inch the meek peasant woman.

Lin He put away his woodcutting saber and wiped his sweat with the ragged towel draped over his shoulder, sneering inwardly.

Keep pretending. Go on.

As a programmer who had spent every day of his previous life searching code for bugs, Lin He had practically maxed out his sensitivity to detail.

That man claimed to be a blacksmith, but the calluses on his hands were concentrated between his thumbs and forefingers and at the heels of his palms-those were fucking marks left only by years of gripping weapons! When a blacksmith held a hammer, the weight did not rest there at all.

And that woman, though she had deliberately painted her face sallow, had let her collar loosen slightly while picking vegetables beside the fence that afternoon, exposing skin at the back of her neck as white as a peeled egg. What famine-fleeing peasant woman who spent her days with her face to the dirt and her back to the sky could maintain a complexion like that?

Carrying his woodcutting saber, Lin He pushed open the door to the main house, stepped inside, and firmly fastened the bolt behind him.

"Wife." Lin He walked to the table, gulped down a mouthful of cold water, and lowered his voice. "We're being watched. Those two next door are definitely government cops."

Su Qiuran sat in that battered wheelchair, a thin quilt covering her legs.

She did not even lift her eyelids. With her hands hidden beneath the quilt, she traced the patterns of the Vajra Protection Talisman from the True Explanation of Elementary Talismans in the air over and over with her fingers.

After realizing they were under surveillance, Su Qiuran had decisively made a choice: stop drawing talismans for three days and let not the slightest fluctuation of Spiritual Qi escape.

"Bear with it." Su Qiuran's voice was quiet, with a cold severity to it. "If the enemy doesn't move, neither do we. You've played your part well these past few days-a fisherman with strong limbs and a simple mind, through and through."

Lin He pulled over a bench, sat down, and crossed one leg over the other. "Of course. I'm just playing myself. You're a veteran actress too, sitting inside all day. They probably really think you're a crippled peasant woman scared out of her wits."

"This afternoon, that woman stood outside our fence for quite a while." Su Qiuran stopped moving her hands beneath the quilt and raised her head, a glint flashing through her peach-blossom eyes. "She was probing the living creatures in our yard. Luckily, Goudan only knows how to squawk stupidly, and Ingot only knows how to sleep once it's full. Neither gave away its nature as a spirit beast."

While the two talked that night with a wall between them and their neighbors, inside the house next door.

By the faint moonlight, the woman in the headscarf was rapidly writing something on a tiny slip of paper.

"Male target possesses innate brute strength and physical stamina when fishing far beyond that of mortals, but two consecutive days of observation revealed no fluctuations from the use of any Law Technique."

"Female target has crippled legs and remains indoors all day. Suspected to be a disabled mortal."

"One duckling and one snapping turtle kept in the yard. Both ordinary specimens, with no spirit-beast presence. Assessment: may indeed be a body cultivator, but poses no significant threat."

After finishing, the woman rolled up the slip, tucked it into the bamboo tube attached to a gray carrier pigeon, and released it through a gap in the window.

In less than an hour, the report landed on the desk of the black-robed man at the Pacification Bureau.

"A rough fisherman? Innate brute strength?" After reading the slip, the black-robed man scoffed and casually held it over a candle flame, burning it to ash. "I thought some mighty dragon had crossed the river into our territory. Turns out he's just an ordinary fellow with a little strength. Nothing but a body cultivator who'll never amount to anything. Lower the priority. Just leave someone to keep a casual eye on him. Don't waste effort on trash."

Night deepened, and Golden Lake Village fell completely quiet, save for the occasional croak of a frog in the reed beds.

Inside Lin He's house, the oil lamp's bean-sized flame flickered.

The black-and-gold-edged invitation lay quietly on the table.

Tomorrow was the day of the black-market auction held by the underground bank in the south of town.

Lin He sat on the edge of the bed, toying with the clear emerald-green Jade Gourd. Through its translucent walls, he could clearly see the drop of golden Essence of the Sun swirling inside like molten lava.

Lin He knew the power of this stuff all too well. Each of his three body temperings had been more painful than the last, but they had also given him terrifying strength far beyond that of mortals, skin impervious to blades and spears, and the Fetal Breathing ability that allowed him to hold his breath underwater.

His body was practically a humanoid killing weapon now.

But tomorrow, he was going to the black market. Dragons and fish mingled there, with bandit cultivators, rogue cultivators, and desperate covert agents from the various lineages all stirring the waters. Who knew what tough opponents he might encounter?

If he ran into a cultivator at the late stage of Qi Refinement, or even an old monster in the Foundation Establishment Realm, could this body he was so proud of withstand a bombardment of their Law Techniques?

"I need to add a few more chips..." Lin He muttered, his thumb already hooked onto the Jade Gourd's stopper.

He wanted to undergo a fourth body tempering.

But barely five days had passed since his third. Based on past experience, his body needed seven or eight days to recover after each tempering, allowing that violent power to fully merge into his internal organs. If he forced another tempering early, the violent energy with nowhere to go would very likely burst his internal circulation apart, blowing him into a cloud of bloody mist on the spot.

Lin He's breathing grew a little heavier. He knew he was gambling with his life, but he hated that sense of danger that came with being unable to control the situation.

Just as his thumb was about to pull out the stopper.

A slightly cool hand suddenly reached over from beside him and clamped firmly around his wrist.

Startled, Lin He whipped his head around.

At some point, Su Qiuran had wheeled herself to his side. The oil lamp's dim yellow light fell across her pale, delicate face, and her peach-blossom eyes stared unblinkingly at him, their gaze so clearheaded it was cold.

"Lin He, has water gotten into your brain?" Su Qiuran's voice was very low, but every word seemed squeezed out between her teeth.

"Wife, I..." Lin He instinctively tried to argue his way out.

"Shut up." Su Qiuran gave him no chance at all. Exerting force, she pushed down the hand holding the Jade Gourd. "Your recovery period isn't over yet. If you drink this now, is it because you think you've lived too long and want an early meeting with the King of Hell?"

"I was just thinking, the black market's tomorrow." Lin He scratched his head, stood up in some agitation, and paced back and forth a couple of steps. "The waters there run deep. We may have a few Spirit Stones, but if something really happens, I'm afraid this body won't be enough to keep things under control."

Su Qiuran looked steadily at him for a while, then suddenly sighed.

She released Lin He's wrist, leaned forward slightly, and extended a fair finger to tap her temple lightly.

"Don't be an idiot. Tomorrow, we rely on this." Su Qiuran's tone softened, carrying a power that could instantly calm a person. "We're going to gauge the market and look for fortuitous opportunities, not cross bayonets with people."