The aroma from the bowl of rice wine on the offering table hadn't yet dissipated, mingling with the scent of dust, clinging to the stagnant air inside the temple. Yue Tingzhou placed the earthenware bowl back on the table. The base knocked against the wood with a dull thud. The lines of his shoulder blades were taut, like a fully drawn bowstring. His fingertips unconsciously tapped three times on the table edge—a habit from the Henglu Division before concluding a case file, one he couldn't shake. "Based on evidence," he began, his voice colder than usual, like a blade tempered in ice, "after the Black Wind Gorge incident, Lin Shouye, under the pretext of querying the 'Black Wind Gorge Incident Casualty List and Pension Disbursement Process' via the Vein Mirror, privately accessed all spiritual trace records of 'No. 73, Xu Family Alley, Qingzhou' from the past three months. This address matches the current residence of Xu Sanniang, the sole survivor of the 'Qingzhou Dock Bloodshed Case' three years ago. And Lin Shouye's only son died precisely in that incident." Zhu Hanli didn't move. She still held the fragments of that coarse earthenware bowl in her hand. Blood beaded at the edges of her palm, about to drip but not quite. Wind whistled through the broken window outside the temple, a mournful sound, making the faint blue glow at the core of the Vein Mirror on the offering table flicker along with it. "When his son died," Zhu Hanli said, her southern accent light as a sigh, "Xu Sanniang was present. She saw the killer's face, but the yamen didn't believe her testimony. The Lin family offered a fifty-tael bounty, but no one in the *jianghu* took it." "That is not a reason." "Then what is a reason?" Zhu Hanli snapped her head up. The shards dug deeper into her palm, but she seemed not to feel it. "According to your laws, he should have his martial arts crippled right now, thrown out of the sect, left to fend for himself. But we don't have a sect here, Yue Tingzhou. All we have is this broken-down temple, and a group of people who just risked their lives for you and me, thinking they'd finally found a path to survival." Yue Tingzhou's jaw was set as if cast in concrete. "The foundation upon which the network stands is public trust. If he sets a precedent today for private vengeance, tomorrow others can abuse their authority for wealth, for grudges, for any private desire. Who will trust us then? Why should rogue cultivators entrust their lifelines to a group of unconstrained 'good people'?" "So we must use that iron law of your Henglu Division?" Zhu Hanli let out a laugh, the sound laced with blood. "Tearing tendons, severing meridians, crippling cultivation, expelling—what a fine example to deter others. And then? Lin Shouye won't last three days outside. The Xu family will clap their hands in approval. The other members will watch and think: Oh, so this 'new order' is just using the old yamen's methods to govern a bunch of new outlaws." Her voice echoed in the empty temple, causing dust to sift down in a soft patter. "We broke the surveillance of the Book of Destiny," Zhu Hanli took a step forward. Blood finally dripped from her palm, landing on the dust-covered offering table, spreading into a small, dark red stain. "Who will watch over us? Is it your personal conscience alone, Yue Tingzhou, or my momentary compassion, Zhu Hanli?" Yue Tingzhou's fists clenched. His fingernails dug into his palms, old wounds and new pain mixing, but his breathing didn't falter. The teacup he should have spun three times before a negotiation wasn't here. He could only force that churning turmoil down, compress it into colder words. "According to the law, this matter should be submitted for deliberation by all core members," he said, staring at her. "But the prerequisite is to first strip Lin Shouye of all permissions and detain him pending trial. That is the bottom line." "Detain?" Zhu Hanli's shoulders rose almost to her ears, her whole body like a fully drawn bow. "With what? Who will guard him? We don't even have a proper jail cell! Yue Tingzhou, look clearly. This is not your Henglu Division's detention room. This is the *jianghu*. The *jianghu* deals in enmity and gratitude, but also in human sentiment. Lin Shouye was wrong, but his crime doesn't warrant death, much less crippling. Let him atone through The moment his fingertips touched the mirror's surface, a searing heat mixed with chaotic spiritual information surged straight between his brows. Yue Tingzhou grunted softly, forcibly steadying his mind and channeling true essence into it. Shattered images exploded across the mirror: a swiftly moving dark shadow in the forest, the cold gleam of reflected metal, the silhouette of a fully drawn bowstring... and further away, several figures in coarse cloth garments stumbling toward the mountain temple, one of them with a large dark stain spreading across his back. "They're the perimeter guards from the escort agency." Zhu Hanli's voice was pressed low, yet sharp as a steel blade. "Northeast direction, three li. Numbers... at least ten. Their moving formation is the standard 'Frost Falcon' scout wedge." She no longer mentioned "your way" or "my way." Her hand was already on the hilt of the short spear at the small of her back, her knuckles white from the grip. Yue Tingzhou lifted his gaze from the mirror to look at her. The earlier argument, the clash of principles—all of it was ground to dust now by the killing intent approaching in the mirror. His Adam's apple bobbed. When he spoke, he was once again the covert investigator of the Bureau of Balance and Law who had proven his case through martial prowess at the Myriad Gates Assembly. "Hostile intent is clear, aiming to probe. Cannot let them ascertain the temple's true situation, and absolutely cannot allow them to return alive with a report." His words were rapid-fire. "I'll take three men and flank out from the western thicket to cut off their retreat. You lead the rest to guard the main gate, creating the illusion that our main force is here. In half the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, regardless of the battle's progress, use a short pulse from the mirror as the signal. We'll attack simultaneously, pinching them from both sides." Zhu Hanli nodded without asking another word. She turned and rushed toward the temple door, her voice tossed back as she crossed the threshold: "The main gate is mine. The old injury on your right arm isn't healed yet. Don't take frontal slashes head-on." Yue Tingzhou didn't respond. He had already pulled out the narrow sword wrapped in cloth strips from under the offering table. The blade left its sheath with a thread of cold, clear hum. Three men who had been packing their gear at the back of the temple heard the commotion and ran out. With just a glance from him, they fell in step behind him, their footfalls light as mountain cats. The temple door was pulled shut from the outside by Zhu Hanli. The moment the last sliver of daylight was cut off, the pressure on Yue Tingzhou's shoulders lightened instead. At least here, before the blade's edge, right and wrong became simple. *** The mountain forest swallowed the sound of footsteps. Yue Tingzhou crouched behind a dense thicket, the damp, earthy smell of soil and the sour odor of rotting leaves invading his nostrils. The wound on his right arm, torn open by the blade-qi of the Black Armor Army at Wangxiang Post, was seeping blood again from the earlier sprint, warm and sticky against his inner garment. He ignored the pain, channeling all his focus into his hearing. *They're here.* From thirty paces to the left, the crisp snap of a dry branch being stepped on. Very light, but too regular—a trained warrior, trying to mask the sound of movement, would unconsciously fall into a certain rhythm. Immediately after, to the right came the faint rustle of cloth brushing through grass. Flanking from both wings. Just as expected of the "Frost Falcon" way. Probe, encircle, strike fast and decisively, withdraw immediately if met with resistance, never engage in prolonged combat. Yue Tingzhou gestured to the three men behind him. Two of them slid silently toward the left. The other, stocky and solid as an iron pagoda, stayed with him, slowly drawing the thick-backed chopping blade from his waist. The tension in the air was drawn taut to its breaking point. Then, from the direction of the main gate, the first metallic clash exploded! The sharp ring of Zhu Hanli's short spear striking some kind of metal armor, followed immediately by shouts, angry curses, and the whistling of blades cutting through air. Yue Tingzhou waited no longer. His figure shot out from behind the thicket like an arrow loosed from its string! Sword-light tore through the twilight, aiming straight for the black-clad scout who had just emerged from behind a tree on the right. The man reacted swiftly, raising his narrow saber to block. But Yue Tingzhou's sword took a bizarre turn mid-flight, its tip darting toward the wrist holding the saber. The scout was forced to withdraw his blade, exposing an opening Yue Tingzhou took a deep breath. A needle-like pain shot from the golden core in his dantian, which was on the verge of shattering. He forcibly channeled his dwindling true essence, pouring it into his sword. The narrow blade began to emit a low hum. The air around it twisted slightly, rippling like water—a sign that his "Zhi Ge Sword Intent" was being pushed to its limit, a burden his severely wounded and unhealed body could scarcely bear. "All together!" the voice from the shadows barked sharply. Six dark figures lunged simultaneously! Blades gleamed, staff shadows flickered, and the sound of flying projectiles tearing through the air wove into a net of death, descending upon Yue Tingzhou. His pupils contracted. His sword moved with his body as he dodged and parried within a confined space. Each collision jolted the wound on his right arm open, fresh blood soaking through his sleeve. The stocky man roared, hacking his saber to force two attackers apart, but a throwing dart struck his own shoulder, sending him staggering back against a tree trunk. He was about to break. Yue Tingzhou's vision began to darken, a ringing in his ears. A poisoned sleeve arrow grazed his cheek, leaving a burning trail. Gritting his teeth, he prepared to risk his golden core shattering completely to force out another surge of sword intent— Just then, amidst the sounds of slaughter from the main gate direction, a strange, clear resonance suddenly mixed in, as if countless bronze mirrors were vibrating at once! Yue Tingzhou whipped his head around. On the open ground before the mountain god temple, Zhu Hanli's figure, surrounded by several black-clad scouts, suddenly grew indistinct. The pair of short spears in her hands vanished, replaced by a sudden explosion of countless silver, mirror-fragment-like specks of light erupting around her! Those specks were not physical, but highly condensed ice-attribute true essence, spinning and refracting wildly around her body, distorting, shattering, and reassembling the last of the twilight sky's light, the forest shadows, and the cold glint of the enemies' weapons. A scout swung his blade at the back of her neck, but the blade edge, upon touching the silver specks, bizarrely changed direction, instead hacking into the shoulder of a companion beside him. Another's thrown stone, refracted multiple times by the specks, shot back at an even faster speed, piercing his own calf. "Ten Thousand Mirror Dart Shadows…" Yue Tingzhou murmured. This was the Zhu family escort bureau's secret, ultimate technique, one that could only be cultivated by those of pure lineage and unwavering will. He had only heard of it in rumors, but had never seen Zhu Hanli truly employ it. Now, it seemed this technique had already shown signs of nearing the peak of the "Borrowing Momentum" realm, even touching the threshold of the "Harmony Accord" realm—borrowing light and shadow, turning the enemy's force against themselves. But it wasn't enough. The range of the specks only covered a three-foot radius around her, and maintaining this state was a terrifying drain on true essence. Zhu Hanli's face was already as pale as paper, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. A switch flipped in Yue Tingzhou's mind with an audible *click*. The Zhi Ge Sword Intent sought "severance." Sever disputes, sever slaughter, using martial force to stop conflict. The Ten Thousand Mirror Dart Shadows sought "deflection." Redirecting force, returning the sender's own method. Severance and deflection, seemingly opposite, but if one "deflected" at the instant of "severance," "severed" in the gap of "deflection"… There was no time for careful thought. The scouts surrounding him were also momentarily distracted by the anomaly before the temple, their assault slowing slightly. Yue Tingzhou seized this fleeting moment of opportunity. Instead of retreating, he advanced. His narrow sword no longer sought sharp, piercing strikes, but instead traced a smooth, rounded arc. The frequency of the sword's hum abruptly changed, faintly resonating with the clear chime of the silver specks before the temple! Where the sword light passed, the ripples in the air no longer spread like water waves, but began to spin and fold, subtly deflecting and dissolving the blade gleams and staff shadows they touched. Though crude, though limited to only three feet around the sword tip, that strange, awkward feeling of forcibly blending "Zhi Ge" with "refraction" caused a momentary confusion and hesitation among the scouts attacking him. "What… what kind of devilry is this?" someone cried out involuntarily. Now! Yue Tingzhou shouted sharply, "Kill!" The stocky man behind him, enduring the shoulder wound, roared and hacked down one opponent. The two companions There was no joy of victory, only the weariness of having survived a calamity, and something deeper, more complex. That momentary resonance of cultivation techniques just now was not planned, not even a tacit understanding, but an instinctive choice born of desperate straits. Yet it was precisely that clumsy, awkward resonance that had allowed each of them to endure the most perilous moment. Yue Tingzhou moved, walking toward her. Each step felt like treading on knife blades. Zhú Hánlí didn’t move either, just watched him approach, watched his right sleeve soaked through with blood, watched his face as pale as a ghost. She fumbled on herself, tore off a relatively clean strip of cloth from the hem of her inner garment, then poured out some hemostatic powder Lu Jianwei had given her from a small leather pouch kept close to her body. Then, she reached out and grabbed Yue Tingzhou’s right arm hanging at his side. The action wasn’t gentle, even somewhat rough. But when she wrapped the cloth strip around that gaping, flesh-turned wound and pressed the powder onto it with her fingertips, her touch became very light. The intense pain of the powder irritating the wound made Yue Tingzhou’s muscles tense, but her other hand immediately pressed against his upper arm, steady, with an undeniable firmness. “The matter of Lin Shouye,” Yue Tingzhou spoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper grating on wood, “we’ll do it your way. Atone for his crime by performing meritorious service, go clear the obstacles at Blackwind Gorge.” Zhú Hánlí’s bandaging paused for a moment. She didn’t look up, just tightened the knot on the cloth strip with more force. “Network oversight can’t rely solely on you and me,” she said, her voice also low. “Let’s establish a ‘Rotating Oversight Council.’ You, me, Shen Lichuan remotely, Lu Jianwei, Narisu, plus two more publicly recommended from the early members. Any matters involving changes in authority levels, major rewards or punishments, must pass with over half the council’s approval. Daily monitoring will be led by Shen Lichuan overall, but rotating members have the right to review at any time.” This was a compromise. Forcibly twisting together his insistence on “legal procedure” and her insistence on “human sentiment and public deliberation.” Yue Tingzhou was silent for a moment. “Agreed. But the council members themselves must take the ‘Inner Demon Martial Oath.’” Zhú Hánlí finally looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot, but also held a flame. “Pledging with their own martial arts future as collateral, to not abuse authority, not act on personal favor, not seek private gain?” “Those who break the oath suffer inner demon backlash, lose all cultivation, severed from the Great Dao forever.” It was heavy. Heavy enough to make any martial artist with remaining ambition hesitate. But it was also the only way to make both sides, and any future forces that might join, temporarily shut their mouths and suppress their petty schemes. “Good.” Zhú Hánlí nodded, clean and decisive. She released her grip. The bandage on Yue Tingzhou’s arm was finished, crude though it was, the bleeding temporarily stanched. She took half a step back, looking at him. The last light of dusk slanted in through the broken temple window, illuminating the sweat and blood still wet on her face. “This road is treacherous,” she said softly, each word seeming dredged from the depths of her being. “You and I walk it together.” Yue Tingzhou looked at her. Looked at this woman who had once been merely a “nominal marriage partner,” later became a “fugitive ally,” and now stood here, arguing with him, fighting alongside him, with him planting the first footprint on a treacherous path with no end in sight. His Adam’s apple moved. Then he reached out and grasped her uninjured left hand. Her palm was warm, carrying the dampness after battle and an unmistakable strength. “Until death do us part,” he said. This was not a lover’s sweet talk. It was a blood oath. The sole covenant made between two fellow travelers with different ideals, disparate backgrounds, yet forced to bind their lives and aspirations together, amidst corpses and the encroaching night. Hurried footsteps sounded from outside the temple. The stocky man, clutching his shoulder, ran over, his expression grim. “Chief Yue, Boss Zhú. We’ve interrogated them. These men are the last organized covert cell left in the north by ‘Frost Falcon’ Huo Qingya. The order they received was ‘investigate abnormal spiritual energy fluctuations around Wangxiang Post, confirm if any new forces are gathering, conduct a firepower probe if necessary.’”