I entered the Xincheng Constabulary the next morning with my hands in my pockets and my shoulders relaxed, like I wasn’t walking into the center of law and order for an entire city.

  The building itself was solid with thick stone walls, wide beams, and banners bearing the city seal. It was practical and did not have any unnecessary flair. It suited Meng Wu’s temperament more than Meng Rong’s.

  Eyes turned toward me the moment I stepped inside.

  I stopped at the center of the hall and spoke plainly. “I’m the newly assigned Consultant Constabulary. Name’s Yakuza Man. Pleasure to work with you.”

  Murmurs rippled through the room.

  Chief Constable Teng Wen stood at the front, fully armored and in proper uniform this time. Gone was the discreet bodyguard who blended into the background. This man looked every bit the authority, straight-backed and sharp-eyed, with presence like a drawn blade.

  He studied me for a breath, then nodded.

  “So the lord had decided,” he said calmly. “Welcome.”

  He turned to the assembled constables. “You will treat Consultant Yakuza Man with the respect his position commands. I will not tolerate insubordination, mockery, or unnecessary friction. Whatever personal thoughts you may have, keep them to yourselves.”

  That quieted the room immediately.

  Teng Wen looked back at me. “Consultant, would you like to say a few words?”

  I sighed internally.

  Speeches were a trap. Say too much and people hated you. Say too little and they distrusted you. Still, honesty was cheaper than polish.

  I stepped forward.

  “I’ll be frank,” I said. “We probably won’t get along.”

  A few brows twitched. Someone coughed.

  “I don’t expect loyalty, friendship, or admiration. What I do expect is that we don’t get in each other’s way. You do your jobs. I’ll do mine. If we manage that much, this’ll go smoothly enough.”

  I paused, then turned my head toward Teng Wen.

  “I’ve promised Lady Meng results within a week. So for now, I’d appreciate it if you’d humor me.”

  My gaze swept the room once before settling back on him.

  “If I fail… well, everyone here is smart enough to imagine what happens to someone who talks big and delivers nothing. In that sense, my life’s already on the table.”

  Silence followed.

  Teng Wen studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. “Very well,” he said. “You will have my cooperation within reason.”

  That was about as good as it was going to get.

  My impression of the Xincheng Constabulary solidified the longer I stood among them.

  They were righteous. Maybe rigid, but they were earnest, loyal to their lord, and serious about their duties. These weren’t thugs with badges or idle men waiting for orders to end. They believed in what they were doing.

  That was good.

  Because staking my honor in front of people like this actually meant something.

  Among everyone present, only two people truly understood why I was here. It would be Chief Constable Teng Wen and myself. The objective. The real purpose. The thing that couldn’t be said out loud. The rest didn’t need to know. As long as Teng Wen didn’t object, they would follow through my orders even without context.

  And that was exactly how Teng Wen framed it.

  He stood straight and spoke with authority, his voice carrying through the hall.

  “My fellow enforcers of the law,” he began, “we are about to conduct an operation that will be of benefit to our lord.”

  The room quieted completely.

  “Due to the circumstances,” he continued, “I ask that you refrain from questioning our objectives or the purpose behind our actions. For now, place your trust in me, as you place your trust in our lord.”

  Then he turned toward me.

  “Now, Yakuza,” he said evenly, “tell us what we need to do.”

  I took a slow breath.

  At some point between my argument with Meng Rong and this very moment, I had abandoned my initial strategy.

  Using civilians to harass cultivators. Escalating things into a clash between the state and the sects. It would’ve worked in theory, but it was frankly sloppy. And it would’ve dragged ordinary people into a mess they didn’t deserve.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  It was a losing battle anyway.

  But losing didn’t mean useless.

  Cultivators, especially righteous sect cultivators, feared one thing more than death. It was a lost of reputation.

  Civilizations like Xincheng weren’t just places on a map. They were recruitment pools. Trade hubs. Logistic arteries. Political anchors. Destroying or destabilizing one would ripple outward in ways no sect could afford, no matter how strong their cultivation was.

  How did I know all this?

  Lots of reading.

  After I’d spoken big in front of Meng Rong out of anger more than anything, I’d made damn sure I wasn’t talking out of my ass. I researched the feasibility, the precedent, and the consequences.

  It turned out my instincts weren’t wrong.

  Still, I refused to follow through the initial strategy, prompting me to make a new one.

  “Maintain the curfew,” I said. “And tighten it.”

  There was no need for hesitation.

  “Stricter patrols. Stricter enforcement. Clear procedures. Anyone out of line gets detained first and questioned later.”

  Some brows furrowed, but no one interrupted.

  “We’ll allow a limited number of cultivators to roam freely,” I continued. “Who gets that privilege can be decided by Lord Meng. Registration. Fixed lodging. Fixed movement windows.”

  I looked around the room.

  “Right now, cultivators are coming and going as they please. That’s the problem. However, we can’t confront them as they are cultivators. Instead of chasing them, we must strive to ‘schedule’ them.”

  Routine was control.

  Control was visibility.

  Visibility was power.

  “This curfew is justified,” I added, “because the possibility of demonic activity is still high. We’ve already confirmed one case. That alone gives us legitimacy.”

  I paused, letting it sink in.

  “We don’t provoke them. We don’t accuse them. We don’t fight them. We just make Xincheng… inconvenient.”

  If they stayed, they’d be watched. If they fought back, they’d ruin their own names. Either way, they wouldn’t have the time or freedom to look for what they came here for.

  That was the point.

  Still, I had underestimated just how sensitive the word demon was.

  The moment it left my mouth, the reaction rippled through the hall. Whispers broke out. Side glances. Tightened grips on spear shafts. These weren’t idle murmurs. Instead, this was fear mixed with excitement, the kind that spread faster than fire in dry grass.

  I watched it happen and kept my expression neutral.

  Because the truth was simple.

  There was no demon.

  At least, not anymore.

  And that was the lie.

  A necessary one.

  By letting the rumor breathe, word would travel fast out of the constabulary, through tea houses, inns, courtesan halls, and finally into the ears of the cultivators. Once they heard it, they’d have two choices.

  Go outside the Lord Meng’s residence to “hunt demons.”

  Or submit to Lord Meng’s demands of tightening rules and be watched like hawks.

  Either way, it worked for me.

  I addressed the constables again, lowering my voice.

  “Spread the story discreetly,” I said. “No proclamations. No official notices. Just… concern. Worry. Let it sound like something you overheard, not something you were told.”

  They nodded, understanding immediately.

  “If any heroic cultivators volunteer their assistance,” I added, “let them. Encourage them, even. It’d be a shame to turn down goodwill.”

  I almost smiled.

  Of course, the cultivators would agree. They’d think they were being clever, using the hunt as an excuse to move freely, to search for the person they were truly after, all while pretending to cooperate with Lord Meng’s authority.

  Unfortunately for them…

  They’d be dancing in the palm of my hand.

  Sending cultivators on a goose chase had its advantages. It scattered their attention. Divided their manpower. And with carefully planted fake clues, it ensured they’d chase shadows in the wrong direction.

  We hammered out the finer details after that from patrol routes to information flow, which constables would “accidentally” overhear what, and where the misleading signs would appear. It took more than an hour before everything was finally in place.

  By the time the meeting concluded, the tension had settled into something sharper. It was purpose.

  As the others began to disperse, Teng Wen stopped me.

  “Consultant,” he asked, “where will you be heading now?”

  I adjusted my coat and replied simply, “I’ve got preparations of my own to make.”

  I headed straight for the Meng residence, my footsteps steady, my mind already several steps ahead of the present. The attendants recognized me and, after a brief exchange, led me through quiet corridors until we stopped before a secluded chamber.

  “This is Lady Meng’s room,” the attendant said softly, then withdrew.

  Inside, Meng Rong sat cross-legged on a woven mat, eyes closed, breath slow and even. Qi drifted around her like a faint mist, disciplined and controlled. She was meditating.

  So I waited.

  I leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, and kept silent. Only when the air subtly shifted did I straighten. Meng Rong opened her eyes, sharp irritation flickering across her face.

  “Do you not know,” she said coolly, “that it is rude to intrude upon someone while they are meditating?”

  I blinked. “I didn’t, actually.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “I’m not exactly a cultivator,” I added. “Not long ago, I was just at Body Tempering.”

  That earned me a pause.

  By now, I’d pieced it together through observation, reading, and no small amount of trial and error. Every hundred levels on my system marked a realm. One to one hundred—Body Tempering. The next hundred—Qi Gathering. Another hundred after that—Qi Refinement. Different language, same ladder.

  Meng Rong exhaled slowly and rose to her feet.

  “So,” she said, “you came for it.”

  “I did,” I replied. “Did you prepare it?”

  Without another word, she raised her hand. Light flashed from her storage ring, and several items appeared in midair before settling neatly onto a table: plain martial robes typical of the Earthly Seal Domain, muted and unremarkable… and also a blunt sword.

  I picked the blunt sword up, testing the balance, then gave it an experimental swing. The air hummed faintly.

  “How tough is this?” I asked. “My fighting style’s… rough.”

  “It will withstand your strength,” she answered. “Unless you are deliberately trying to destroy it.”

  Good enough.

  She folded her arms. “Now tell me your plan.”

  “It’s simple,” I said. “The same one I offered you the first time, just with one change.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Which is?”

  I pointed at myself.

  “Me.”

  Silence stretched between us.

  Her expression darkened. “I must warn you, if you are caught, I will not be able to bail you out.”

  I cut her off before she could finish.

  “Can we stop pretending?” I said flatly. “You picked me because I’m expendable. A scapegoat. That’s the only explanation that fits… why you approached me, why you pushed that Binding Vow on me so quickly.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  “If I’m caught in the act,” I continued, “I won’t even be able to tell them anything about you or your brother. That contract made sure of that.”

  She looked away.

  “You will be compensated,” she said quietly.

  I almost laughed.

  “Sure,” I replied. “As if compensation matters if I’m dead.”

  I wasn’t cruel enough to throw civilians into the path of cultivators. That was never really an option for me. Which was why I’d chosen this route instead, playing the vigilante, lightning rod, and walking provocation.

  Ahem… Of course, I have another reason for conducting this harassment operation like this.

  I reached for the last item on the table: a fox mask, white lacquered, faintly smiling.

  I slipped it into my hand and turned back to her.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t get caught.”

  I paused, then added evenly,

  “And if I do… I’ll kill myself before they get the chance to do anything worse.”

  I didn’t wait for her reply.