Sensing the carriage slow to a halt, Merin shifts forward just as the driver speaks from outside.
"My Lord, we are here."
Merin pushes the door open and steps down.
Before him stands the governor's residence of Gatewatch Peak Town, its gates wide open. Through them, he sees workers moving back and forth, carrying chests, scroll cases, furniture, and crates from inside the building to the small open field between the wall and the main structure.
Merin raises an eyebrow.
So Shi Yuli has decided to leave.
He had expected resistance. Without a proper lesson, he thought Shi Yuli would cling stubbornly to the governor's position, dragging matters out indefinitely.
Yet here the workers are, emptying the house.
Merin walks forward, bypassing the workers carefully, his movements precise so as not to collide with them. The labourers glance at him nervously, bowing slightly as they pass, unsure how to address the man who is technically already their governor.
He steps into the building.
Inside the lobby, Shi Yuli stands with his hands clasped behind his back, giving instructions in a brisk but controlled tone.
"Careful with that," Shi Yuli says to a worker. "Those are official documents."
He notices Merin only when the latter approaches close enough for shadow to fall across the floor.
"Inspector," Shi Yuli says with a thin smile, "are you so impatient? I have not even left yet, and you have already come."
Merin walks forward nonchalantly, stopping at a comfortable distance.
"Do I need a reason to come?" he replies evenly.
Shi Yuli's smile tightens.
Merin's gaze is calm, but his words are not.
"You have clung to a position that is no longer yours for three weeks."
Shi Yuli's expression falters briefly before he recovers.
"I told you I had my reasons," he says, his voice controlled but strained. "There were matters I could not simply abandon."
He straightens, strengthening his posture.
"I am leaving now, am I not?"
Merin chuckles softly.
"You have reasons for everything," he says. "So tell me, when will I formally take my position?"
Shi Yuli gestures vaguely around the room.
"Tonight," he says. "At Greenview Manor, I will hold my farewell banquet in front of all the influential figures of this town. You should attend. I will introduce you to them properly."
Merin considers this.
There is no obvious harm in attending. On the contrary, it may be useful. If he is to govern this town effectively, he must know the merchants, militia leaders, landowners, and hidden stakeholders who truly shape its movements.
At least for now, he will work with them.
He nods once.
"Very well. I will attend."
Without another word, Merin turns and walks out.
Shi Yuli watches him leave, his expression unreadable.
Outside, Merin steps back into the carriage.
"Return home," he tells the driver.
The carriage rolls away.
From the front doorway of the governor's residence, Shi Yuli stands still until the carriage disappears from view.
Then he moves quickly.
Instead of returning to the lobby, he heads toward the rear of the house.
Minutes later, pigeons burst into the sky from the back courtyard of the governor's residence. Each bird carries a small rolled letter tied to its leg. They scatter in different directions, vanishing over rooftops and into the wider town.
Inside the moving carriage, Merin lifts the window blind slightly and glances outside.
His eyes follow the sky.
He sees one of the pigeons.
It flies from the direction of the governor's residence, wings beating steadily as it disappears into the distance.
A faint smile appears on Merin's lips.
He releases the blind and leans back against the cushioned seat.
"The party," he murmurs softly, "should be interesting."
The carriage soon enters his residence.
Merin steps down and walks through the gates. The guards bow deeply as he passes. He crosses the courtyard, where a carefully maintained lawn stretches toward the house.
His room lies on the far side of the garden. He could reach it by walking along the verandah, circling the courtyard, or by cutting directly across the garden itself.
He chooses the latter.
Instead of heading straight back to his chamber, he turns into the garden.
A stone pebble path winds gently through trimmed hedges and flowering shrubs. In the centre of the garden sits an artificial pool, its surface calm and clear, with a wooden bench placed nearby.
Merin walks to the bench and sits.
In the pool, fish with golden and white scales glide beneath the water, their bodies flashing softly in the sunlight. They move in slow, unhurried patterns, circling one another in a rhythm that seems effortless.
Merin tilts his head back and looks up.
The sky is blue, scattered with drifting white clouds. For a moment, he simply observes them, expression neutral.
Then he closes his eyes.
His thoughts return to the technique he has created.
It is complete.
But it is not perfect.
Something is missing.
He searches his understanding again, retracing each principle of the Law of Strength, each fragment of the Law of Dragon, each structural alignment of transformation.
There is a gap.
He feels it clearly now.
Not in the body.
Not in the structure.
But in the origin.
His fingers tap lightly against the bench.
He continues to think.
And he does not open his eyes.
When night falls, Merin leans back inside the carriage as it rolls out of the town's west gate. Lantern light flickers against the wooden frame as the wheels turn steadily along the road toward Greenview Manor.
The guards ride ahead and behind, silhouettes steady in the darkness.
A few minutes later, the carriage slows at a checkpoint. Torches flare as guards approach, inspecting insignias and confirming identity. After a brief exchange, the barrier lifts.
The carriage continues, turning south.
It crosses a narrow stream, wheels splashing softly through shallow water, then climbs onto firmer ground before taking a turn into a forest path. The trees close in, shadows thick between trunks.
Merin spreads his spirit quietly.
The terrain is perfect for an ambush: dense forest, narrow path, and limited visibility.
He senses nothing.
No hidden breaths.
No restrained killing intent.
The carriage continues forward.
Eventually, it stops before a large gate flanked by two watchtowers. Guards stand above, silhouettes outlined by torchlight. The gate slides open with a low groan.
Merin remains still, anticipating a trap.
Nothing happens.
The carriage enters.
Inside lies a wide glade, illuminated by lanterns strung along pathways. Smaller roads branch off toward grand manors, each built with carved balconies and tiled roofs.
The carriage turns down one of the paths and finally halts.
A guard opens the carriage door.
Merin steps out.
The evening proceeds as expected.
He attends the farewell banquet.
He greets Shi Yilu with polite formality. He meets merchants, militia leaders, minor officials, and wealthy landowners. He exchanges measured words, listens more than he speaks, and observes alliances and tensions beneath smiles.
He eats lightly.
Drinks sparingly.
He leaves when most of the other guests begin to depart.
His carriage carries him away without incident.
The guards maintain formation.
The road remains quiet.
He returns home without an obstacle.
-----
Inside Greenview Manor, the celebration does not end.
In a private room deep within the estate, Shi Yilu sits at a long table. A wine glass trembles in his hand. His knuckles whiten as he grips it too tightly.
Around the table, several men laugh loudly, their faces flushed with drink. They raise their cups, cheering a young man seated near the head of the table.
Shi Yilu's body shakes, not from fear, but from rage.
He lifts his head, eyes bloodshot.
The laughter grates against him.
Suddenly, he sweeps his arm across the table.
The wine glass skids violently across the polished wood and crashes against the wall. It shatters, shards scattering across the carpet as dark red wine spills like blood.
The room falls silent.
The young man being fawned over tilts his head slightly.
"Governor Shi," he says calmly, "why are you so angry?"
Shi Yilu forces his breathing to steady.
"Third Young Master," he says stiffly, "you promised. And now I am no longer governor."
The young man smiles faintly.
"Lord Shi," he replies, "didn't I explain why attacking Duan Merin would be futile?"
Shi Yilu scoffs.
"Do you truly believe that nonsense intelligence?" he snaps. "How can someone barely twenty have the cultivation of Inner Qi Refining Realm?"
He grabs the open wine bottle, tilts it back, and drinks directly from it. He slams it down on the table with a heavy thud.
"And even greater nonsense, that he has the strength of the Outer Qi Refining Realm."
He scans the faces around the table.
"And you believe that?"
Silence answers him.
He continues, voice rising.
"Do you think I clung to that position for myself? It was for all of you! Now he will investigate. He will dig. And he will uncover everything you've done."
The men shift uncomfortably.
Only the Third Young Master and the two seated closest to him remain composed.
One of the others leans forward.
"Third Young Master," he says cautiously, "we still have time. Shall we give the go-ahead?"
The Third Young Master smiles.
"If you wish," he says lightly. "But if consequences arise, the Xiao Family will not handle them."
The men exchange uneasy glances.
Another speaks.
"Third Young Master… Shi Yilu's concerns are valid."
"Shi Yilu," the Third Young Master says smoothly, "do not worry. Your transfer will remain within Wein Province."
He turns to the others.
"As for you gentlemen, hold your ground for one week. Do not cooperate with him. After one week, he will not have time to investigate."
They stare at him.
"What will happen after a week?" one asks.
The Third Young Master smirks.
"You will know after a week."
He changes the subject effortlessly.
"Master Yun," he says, "I heard you brought the dancers from Red Sparrow Pavilion."
An elderly man nods eagerly.
"Yes, Third Young Master. They are waiting in the underground pleasure room."
"Then what are we waiting for?" the young man replies. "Let us go."
Laughter resumes.
Chairs scrape.
The group moves downstairs.
---------
In the morning, two carriages leave the glade quietly.
In one carriage, dishevelled young women and teenage girls huddle together, crying softly. Their clothes are torn. Bruises, bite marks, and whip scars mar their skin.
In the second carriage lie bodies.
Some are still.
Their limbs bear deeper marks. Their skin mottled and broken. Their chests are unmoving.
The wheels roll forward.
No one stops them.
And the glade gates close once more.