Chapter 93: Dog Junior Brother

The Demon Suppression Bureau, branch compound.

Several Golden Eagle Captains placed their precious silk robes on the bed inside the room, then swiftly boiled water and tidied up the quarters.

After finishing everything, they bowed and said, “Lord Shen, is there anything else you wish to instruct?”

The Regional Commander is not in Qingzhou; the Demon Suppression Grand General holds the Twelve Prefectures.

Within the government office, this temporary personal aide and deputy commander—still not yet departed—held extremely high status, commanding obedience from all, and even outside, he was equivalent to an Elder of a first-tier sect or clan.

“That’s all.”

Shen Yi waved his hand, watched the men depart, and sat on the edge of the bed.

He reached out and took the gilded, latticed wolf-pattern hair crown, instinctively wanting to pinch it with his fingertips.

Suddenly he realized—given his current strength, not even real gold could withstand it, let alone refined iron; he could crush it in his grip.

He set down the hair crown, picked up the thin robe, and gently stroked the yin-yang fish pattern on it, placing it aside only after a long while.

“This promotion came too fast.”

Shen Yi lay on the bed, arms pillow, savoring the hard-won softness and comfort.

If he’d earned it through true merit, that would be fine—but he knew better than anyone else how much water had been mixed into the achievement of slaying that Golden Core dragon.

Could it be that the real reason his predecessor wandered as a vagrant in Baiyun County was because he was the illegitimate son of some Demon Suppression Grand General?

He had always felt his conscience clear, yet now he inexplicably sensed a flicker of unease.

“Pathetic.”

Shen Yi sneered—did he really need to be targeted to feel secure?

On his way back, he’d learned much from Hong Lei about the Demon Suppression Bureau and martial realms—for instance, each Demon Suppression Grand General had at most four or five personal aide-de-camps, some even none at all.

Among them were veteran deputy commanders who had served their masters for one or two hundred years, having risen from countless Captains through sheer merit; Jade Liquid Fullness was merely the threshold.

Of the twelve Generals, Old Master Chen was the closest to his expiration.

Fortunately, the yin spirit nurtured within his Golden Core had grown slightly, lending a faint spark of life to this flickering candle.

If I truly possessed such talent—rising from mortal to Jade Liquid Fullness in two months, and possessing an external elixir containing a Dragon Lord’s cultivation—then when the time came that he could no longer wield his iron great halberd, the position of Demon Suppression Grand General would almost certainly fall to no one else.

Governing millions of commoners across a single prefecture—something Shen Yi could scarcely imagine when he was in Baiyun County.

The tragedy is, this “talent” requires vast quantities of demonic life force to accumulate.

“...”

At the thought of demonic life force, Shen Yi’s calm face flickered with a subtle gleam in his eyes.

Now that he had reached Jade Liquid Fullness, further advancement required a true Golden Core formation method.

Though he understood the Demon Suppression Bureau’s desire for stability, it still irked him how rigid and inflexible they were, always measuring progress in “years.”

Shen Yi could wait—but he refused to sit idle.

Outside the Demon Suppression Bureau, such methods weren’t nonexistent; with the status of personal aide-de-camp, many doors now had room for maneuver.

If he could obtain one ahead of time, that would be ideal.

But before doing anything, he needed sufficient strength as a foundation—otherwise, if he got caught, surrounded, and couldn’t fight back, that would be humiliating.

“Cough.” Imagining such a scene, Shen Yi sneered.

At present, there were still many directions for improvement.

Since encountering the young dragon of Water Cloud Village, his previous body tempering method had clearly become inadequate; fortunately, the impending Bodhi Vajra Body would allow his physique to rise again.

In addition,

Shen Yi sank into inner observation, gazing at the external demonic elixir suppressed by the Burning Sun Divine Furnace.

The demonic aura within had barely reached halfway.

If he could fully fill it, he would possess twice the cultivation of a Dragon Lord—then, beneath the Pillar Formation realm, as long as it didn’t involve yin spirit or primordial techniques, he could walk freely without restraint.

Unfortunately, the Burning Sun Divine Furnace had reached its limit; to suppress stronger demonic power, he might need to awaken more acupoints.

If he remembered correctly, when he had deduced the Wind-Thunder Burning Sun Scripture, it had taken over two hundred years to open just four new acupoints—275 opened, still far from completion.

“No rush. Take it slow.”

Shen Yi lazily rose from the bed and poured himself a glass of cold boiled water.

Such a massive life-force deficit couldn’t be filled overnight; at least now he had a direction, better than the days in Baiyun County when he’d wandered like a headless fly.

“Lord Shen, do you usually quench your thirst with plain water?”

A teasing voice came from the courtyard. Shen Yi turned his head and saw a handsome youth in white robes holding two flasks of wine, a smile on his lips: “Bai Ziming, works at the Infirmary.”

He’d heard that name before from Hong Lei—listed alongside Fang Heng and Lin Baiwei, and ranked last.

Shen Yi glanced at Fang Heng behind him, sipped the warm water, and said coolly, “Tea’s too bitter. I’m not used to anything else.”

His past life was miserable enough—he had no leisure to savor the bittersweet aftertaste.

“I have a unique tonic tea—nourishes yin, strengthens yang, boosts qi and fortifies the kidneys, rich and sweet in flavor. I’ll bring you two packets next time.”

Bai Ziming entered the room as if he belonged there, placed the wine flasks on the table, then took the food box from Fang Heng’s hanging hands, quietly studied Shen Yi, and said, “My junior brother has a hasty temper; he offended you before. I’ve brought him here specifically to apologize.”

Hearing this, Shen Yi looked toward the burly, brutish man.

Fang Heng admitted frankly, “No, he doesn’t believe any young martial cultivator is stronger than him—he’s resentful, came here to find your weaknesses so he can ambush you next time you spar.”

“...” Bai Ziming’s eyelid twitched, his smile stiffening.

“Don’t listen to him, Lord Shen. Your cultivation is formidable—I’m humbled. I’m just a physician; how could I dare speak of sparring?”

Shen Yi looked again at Fang Heng.

The brute raised his head: “No, Sister Jiang is Pillar Formation Fullness—last time she returned, he still fired his newly developed poison needles from behind, and she knocked him flat with one sword strike. He lay in bed for two months.”

“You two talk.” Bai Ziming’s face was expressionless. He set down the food box and turned to leave: “I have something else to attend to.”

When Master returns, I’ll report this traitorous turncoat and expel him from our sect!

“Senior Brother Bai.”

Fang Heng called out to him, arms hanging limply, apologetic: “Could you pour me some wine?”

“I’m suddenly not hungry or thirsty anymore.” Bai Ziming’s face was cold, but he still took three small wine cups from the food box and filled them with the wine within.

He pushed the cups toward the two of them, then lifted his own.

“Senior Brother, could you close the door for me?” Fang Heng took a deep breath.

Bai Ziming’s hand holding the wine cup trembled slightly; he glared coldly: “Fang, I don’t bully the disabled. Wait till you’re healed—I’ll be waiting.”

With that, he swept his sleeve and turned to leave, slamming the wooden door shut with a bang.

“...”

Watching this odd pair, Shen Yi fell silent, then said after a moment: “What’s this really about?”

Fang Heng clenched his teeth, his numb hand trembling as he reached for the wine cup, struggled to lift it, then downed it in one gulp.

After much internal struggle, he finally summoned the courage to say: “I want you... not to go to Linjiang Prefecture. Not for the next few months, at least.”

His voice wasn’t loud.

Yet it caused the two outside the courtyard gate to halt their steps.

The middle-aged man with broad shoulders fell silent, staring inside; the little girl perched on his shoulder’s face turned icy, her two pale, plump legs freezing mid-swing.

Bai Ziming stood before the door, having just heard the words inside, still processing them—when his peripheral vision caught distant figures. His forehead instantly broke into sweat.

This idiot junior brother—silent as a stone—brought me here to cheat?!

(End of Chapter)