The next day, Merin opens the door to the outer workroom with a sheet of paper in his hand.
All of his subordinates are already present, seated at their desks, the room quiet except for the faint scratch of charcoal on paper.
He steps inside and speaks evenly.
"Gong Qiu, have you found the identity of the murdered victim?"
As he walks toward Gong Qiu's desk, the veteran Divine Guard rises at once.
"Lord," Gong Qiu says, bowing slightly, "we haven't found anything yet."
Merin does not respond immediately.
He places the paper on Gong Qiu's desk.
"Check this," he says.
Then he turns away without another word and walks into his inner office, closing the door behind him.
For a moment, the outer room is silent.
Gong Qiu looks down at the paper with confusion, then slowly lifts it.
His eyes widen.
Zhu Jie, seated nearby, notices the change in his expression and leans over slightly.
"Senior Qiu," Zhu Jie asks, curiosity plain in his voice, "what did Lord give you?"
Gong Qiu swallows.
"Lord… gave me the name and address of the murdered victim."
The words land heavily.
Zhang Shan freezes, then stands abruptly and walks over. She takes the paper from Gong Qiu's hand without ceremony and scans it carefully.
A sketched portrait fills the top half of the page—precise, clean, unmistakably the dead man from the Blood Spring Pavilion.
Below are written details.
Name.
Former aliases.
Current address.
Zhang Shan looks up sharply.
"Is this information reliable?"
Gong Qiu straightens.
"We'll know once we verify it," he says.
"Either way, we can't ignore this."
The remaining two members also rise from their desks, and the atmosphere shifts from one of waiting to one of action.
Gong Qiu thinks for a moment, then speaks decisively.
"No need for all of us to go."
He looks at Mei Ji and Zhang Shan.
"You two stay here."
Mei Ji frowns slightly.
"Why?"
"The address is in the slum district," Gong Qiu replies calmly.
"Women going there will attract unnecessary attention."
Zhang Shan hesitates, then nods.
"Understood."
Gong Qiu turns to Zhu Jie and Ming Li.
"You two, with me."
The three men gather their equipment quickly and move toward the door.
As they leave the room, footsteps echo briefly down the corridor before fading.
Inside the inner office, Merin stands by the window.
He watches them from above as they emerge from the Divine Guard headquarters and head down the street together, their figures quickly swallowed by the city's morning flow.
Merin's expression remains unchanged as he follows their retreating backs for a moment longer.
Then he turns away from the window.
Merin returns to his chair and sits down slowly.
He opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a small jade bottle.
Inside are ginseng pills.
He removes the cap, tips the bottle slightly, and pours a single pill into his palm before swallowing it without hesitation.
The cap goes back on, and the bottle returns to the drawer.
Moments later, warmth spreads through his stomach.
The pill dissolves, releasing refined medicinal energy that seeps into his blood and muscles.
Merin closes his eyes.
Instead of lifting weights or performing crude physical exercises like ordinary Blood Refining Warriors, he turns inward.
His spirit descends into his flesh.
Muscles tighten.
Bones hum.
He controls his body directly, forcing his muscles and skeletal structure to vibrate in a precise rhythm.
The vibration is subtle, internal, perfectly controlled—far beyond anything taught in this world.
Blood surges.
Fibres tear microscopically, then rebuild stronger.
Bone density increases fraction by fraction.
This method forges the body faster, deeper, and more efficiently.
Ten minutes pass.
The medicinal energy fades.
Merin stops immediately.
Continuing would burn vitality instead of strengthening it.
He does not take a second pill.
His body needs time to stabilise the gains.
He sits quietly, breathing evenly, letting the changes settle.
An hour later, he takes another pill.
The process repeats.
Forge.
Stabilize.
Rest.
Minutes after finishing, as he leans back in his chair, a knock sounds at the door.
"Come in," Merin says.
Zhang Shan slips inside and closes the door behind her.
"Lord," she says, "Gong Qiu sent a message back."
Merin straightens.
"Read it."
"Lord," Zhang Shan continues, "the victim, Yin Li, and his belongings stored at the inn were taken away by someone."
"We followed the lead to Old Courtyard Street."
"We request support."
Merin rises immediately.
"Let's go."
—
Minutes later, Merin stands in the street, facing a weathered courtyard house.
The walls are old, patched unevenly with clay and stone.
The gate is closed, quiet, unassuming.
Gong Qiu stands slightly behind him.
Merin asks, "What did you find out about Yin Li and this house?"
Gong Qiu answers promptly.
"We confirmed Yin Li was a member of the Black Dog Gang."
"As for this house, neighbours say a group of mountain people are staying here."
Merin's eyes flicker.
North of the Song Kingdom stretches the Magoon Mountains—a continuous range inhabited by tribal people.
They are not citizens of the kingdom.
Some tribes act as vassals.
Others operate independently.
Merin speaks calmly.
"Post a guard to keep watch on this house."
"Find out which tribe they belong to."
The team nods.
He continues, turning to Zhu Jie.
"Go to the coroner's office."
"If Yin Li's body is still there, tell the coroner to perform an autopsy."
"Check whether Yin Li is also from the mountains."
Zhu Jie nods immediately.
He understands without explanation.
Mountain people have slightly thicker, denser bones—an adaptation that makes them excellent Blood Refining Warriors.
Merin's gaze sharpens.
"And the rest of you," he says evenly,
"We're going to visit the Black Dog Gang."
The street remains quiet as the order is given.
—
Inside the courtyard-style house, the atmosphere is heavy.
A man steps forward and lowers his voice.
"Boss, the Divine Guard found where Toga was staying."
"They also found our place."
The boss does not stop moving.
Barefoot on the stone ground, he continues his training, muscles flexing and contracting as he drives power through his body with each controlled motion.
Sweat runs down his back, soaking into the earth beneath him.
He nods once.
A moment passes.
"Boss," the man asks again, uncertainty creeping into his tone, "what are your instructions?"
The boss exhales slowly and shifts his stance, rolling his shoulders before asking instead,
"Did you find who Toga went to meet at the Blood Rose Pavilion?"
The man shakes his head.
"No, boss."
The boss resumes his training without comment.
The man watches him for a few breaths, then speaks again, more cautiously.
"Boss… the Black Dog Gang may have discovered that Toga was a planted spy."
"They could have killed him."
The boss finally stops.
He straightens, picking up a cloth to wipe the sweat from his arms.
"We cannot act against the Black Dog Gang," he says calmly,
"Not until we find all the women they captured from our tribe."
The man's brows knit together.
"Then are we just going to sit with our hands tied?"
The boss turns to look at him, eyes steady.
"No."
He pauses, then continues,
"Tonight, I will meet the captain."
The man stiffens slightly.
"The Divine Guard captain?"
"Yes."
The boss's voice remains even.
"You go and find out why Toga went to the Blood Rose Pavilion in the first place."
The man nods, understanding the weight of the task.
"Yes, boss."
He turns and leaves the courtyard quickly, footsteps fading into the house.
—
Elsewhere, Merin stands in front of a butcher shop.
The smell of raw meat hangs thick in the air.
This unremarkable storefront is the public face of the Black Dog Gang.
Merin watches quietly.
"Let's go and meet the gang leader," he says evenly.
"To see how he plans to explain this to us."
—
Inside the Black Dog Gang's meeting chamber, the atmosphere is tense.
Ding San sits on a large ironwood chair placed atop an elevated platform.
The chair is old, scarred by blades and fists alike, but it has never broken—much like the man sitting upon it.
Below him stand the small leaders of the gang.
One by one.
Heads lowered.
Breathing shallow.
Ding San's fingers tap slowly against the armrest.
"So," he says, his voice low and heavy, "none of you can tell me who killed one of our people… and stole our package."
Silence answers him.
Not even a cough dares to rise.
Ding San's gaze sweeps across them, sharp and probing, weighing every flicker of fear, every trace of guilt.
Someone here is lying.
He knows it.
Yin Li.
Toga.
Ding San knows the truth of the man's identity.
But he did not kill him.
From Yin Li, Ding San had learned why his cooperation with the Mammoth Tribe had suddenly collapsed.
Six months ago, several members of the Black Dog Gang had captured women from the Mammoth Tribe.
An unforgivable act.
By the time Ding San learned of it, those gang members were already dead.
Silenced.
But the order had come from someone else.
Someone higher.
Someone still standing in this very room.
His fingers tighten.
Now Toga is dead.
The only bridge to the Mammoth Tribe has been severed.
Without proof, without explanation, cooperation is impossible.
And worse—
If the Mammoth Tribe believes the Black Dog Gang ordered the abduction, blood will follow.
Ding San's eyes narrow.
The traitor is still among them.
Before he can speak again, footsteps rush toward the chamber.
A gang member slides inside, breath hurried, posture tense.
"Leader," the man says quickly, "the Divine Guards are here."
A ripple runs through the chamber.
One of the small leaders lifts his head slightly.
"Which captain?"
Before the messenger can answer—
The chamber doors are pushed open.
Four figures step inside wearing the black uniforms of the Divine Guard.
Their presence alone changes the air.
Behind them walks a young man in the uniform of a Divine Guard captain.
His steps are unhurried.
Almost casual.
He saunters in as if this is not the den of one of the city's most notorious gangs, but an ordinary hall he has visited many times before.