Golden light spilled across the shimmering surface of the Yangchun River, where a few black-tailed boats lay anchored.
Inside a small bamboo-fenced courtyard, Shen Yi sat on a stool, carefully wiping his sword scabbard with a cloth.
He wasn’t particularly skilled at tending to the wounded, but fortunately, the madman often got injured, and the young widow had gained some experience from patching him up.
At the very least, she had managed to stop the bleeding for Ma Tao and Li Xinhan and bandaged them up enough to make them look human again.
When Li Mujuan finally regained consciousness, she hurriedly took out a few pills and fed them to the two men, temporarily stabilizing their conditions.
She slowly walked out of the house, her ponytail undone, her hair slightly disheveled, covering her pale cheeks.
Her breathing was weak, a clear sign that she had overexerted herself during the previous night’s battle, leaving her severely depleted.
The usual charm in her expression was gone, and her once-moist red lips were now cracked.
As she gazed at Shen Yi’s back, it gradually overlapped with the figure she had seen in her mind last night.
She tugged at the corner of her lips, her voice hoarse as she asked, “Where are the others?”
“They were just exhausted, not seriously injured. They woke up earlier and went to the yamen to fetch the horses,” Shen Yi replied, putting down the cloth and reattaching his sword to his waist.
Li Mujuan dragged a stool over and sat down beside him, propping her chin on her palm.
She wanted to ask something but didn’t know where to start, so she simply stared blankly at his profile.
When Shen Yi finally couldn’t take the staring anymore and frowned, giving her a sidelong glance, she burst into laughter, her eyes filled with emotion. “So you really are good at killing demons.”
So good, in fact, that even a girl like her, who had grown up in Qingzhou, couldn’t fathom the extent of his skill.
Though her view had been blocked by the villagers kneeling on the ground, the River God’s piercing scream still echoed in her ears.
Only the fear of death could have made the River God, who usually carried himself with such dignity, lose his composure like that.
“I thought you were dead,” she admitted.
Shen Yi had chased the black wind into the mountains, and though she didn’t know what kind of demon it was, she had seen the River God’s face filled with anticipation.
It was a look of complete trust and longing, brimming with confidence.
Yet, in the end, it was Shen Yi who had returned.
“Good thing you didn’t think that way,” Li Mujuan said, standing up and bowing deeply to the young man without any hesitation.
If he had thought the same, the safest course of action after escaping would have been to return to the Demon-Suppression Bureau to report the incident.
Facing a demon far stronger than himself, anyone would have thought the situation hopeless.
Leaving under the pretense of delivering a message would have been understandable, and even the Demon-Suppression Bureau wouldn’t have blamed him too harshly.
Shen Yi was slightly surprised, not expecting her to suddenly become so serious.
He waved his hand, about to speak, when his arm was suddenly pulled into a warm, soft embrace.
“Haha,” Li Mujuan laughed, reverting to her usual carefree demeanor as she clung to his arm. “You scared me half to death! I couldn’t even move a finger, but I had to put on a calm face. Even with that acting, I couldn’t scare the River God. It’s so frustrating!” She then pinched her fingers together, looking pitifully sincere. “When you walked over, I was just a hair’s breadth away from crying. But you’re so handsome, I thought I should maintain some dignity, so I held it in.”
The familiar sensation was even more overwhelming than that of Sister Song.
Shen Yi was speechless and pulled his arm back. “Enough already,” he said.
When the fish fork had struck, there hadn’t been a trace of fear in her expression—just a hint of regret.
Crying? She must be joking.
Li Mujuan placed a hand on her hip and patted her chest with a carefree laugh. “It’s fine, it’s fine. As long as we’re alive, that’s what matters. We’re really lucky.”
The people of the Demon-Suppression Bureau seemed to have a very laid-back attitude.
Her smile was infectious, and Shen Yi turned his head slightly, the faint trace of ferocity in his eyes softening a bit.
Perhaps it was from the moment he woke up in the Liu family’s home in Baiyun County.
Back then, he had still been in a playful mindset, not noticing anything unusual.
But as he gradually shed the remnants of his past life and integrated into this world, Shen Yi realized that he had grown accustomed to a life stained with blood—so much so that he felt somewhat uncomfortable when there wasn’t any.
Ferocity was a tool that helped him survive in this chaotic world, but he couldn’t let it turn him into its puppet.
Shen Yi took a deep breath, his mind clearing, and then he looked out into the courtyard.
The young widow approached, holding a few borrowed old clothes, her expression one of reverence. “Sir, would you like to change your clothes? I couldn’t find anything new, but these are all clean.”
The madman followed behind her, his head bowed, none of his previous foolishness remaining.
His gaze, filled with gratitude and fear, cautiously met Shen Yi’s.
Those clear eyes of his seemed capable of seeing through everything, and when sharp, they could easily intimidate demons.
“Try to hold off on changing,” Li Mujuan said, shaking her head.
For a Demon-Suppression Bureau officer, returning in this state with achievements would help Shen Yi establish his position more quickly.
“Ah, alright,” the widow said, pulling out a short wooden ruler. “Then, could I measure your shoulder width?”
Li Mujuan seemed to understand something this time and didn’t refuse.
She took the ruler and pulled Shen Yi to his feet.
“What’s this for?” Shen Yi asked, puzzled.
“Maybe they’re making you clothes to send to Qingzhou as a thank-you,” Li Mujuan said, carefully measuring him with the ruler, even including the sword at his waist.
She reported the numbers to the widow and waved her off. “Go on.”
“Thank you, sir,” the widow said, bowing.
The once-fiery woman from yesterday now didn’t dare to look Shen Yi in the eye.
But it wasn’t pure fear—there was something else in her expression that Shen Yi found familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it.
The widow and the madman left, only to bump into a man who tossed them a piece of fish tied with straw rope before hurrying off to the next house.
“He… he’s practically gone to every house in the village,” the widow said helplessly as she picked up the fish.
The man who had been forced by Shen Yi to eat the River God’s flesh was desperate to have everyone taste the delicacy, as if only then could he cleanse the guilt in his heart.
Only by consuming the fish could they shatter the lies they had been telling themselves.
If it was a demon, it couldn’t possibly have been raising three hundred children in the river.
The river was just a river—their children wouldn’t come riding the waves, nor would they take them to the River God’s palace to live in luxury.
This truth, once stripped of its excuses, made people cover their faces in shame.
“In times of famine, people resort to eating their own children,” Li Mujuan said, her hand resting on Shen Yi’s shoulder, her eyes sparkling as she smiled. “It’s a last resort. But now that they can fend for themselves, they should cut ties with such practices. After all, it’s the demons who eat people. When they’re useful, they’re worshipped; when they’re not, they should be consumed. That’s the way of survival for ordinary people.”
“The Demon-Suppression Bureau officers don’t need to fish or farm to feed themselves. They’re the ones who exploit the people, unable to provide food for them but instead taking more from their mouths. They stand too high, and if they criticize too much, it just sounds hypocritical.”
Li Mujuan’s hand remained on Shen Yi’s shoulder as she grinned. “Sir Shen, be merciful and let them off this once, alright?”
It was clear that someone, in order to maintain their position, had repeatedly engraved this grand ritual into the fishermen’s minds, making it seem like an ancestral rule that must never be broken.
Yesterday, more than ten people, including the village chief, had been killed in an instant.
To be honest, such ruthless methods had shocked Li Mujuan, but they had also left her feeling strangely satisfied.
Shen Yi had done what none of the Qingzhou youths dared to do, and he had done it decisively.
But if more blood were shed, the situation would start to feel different.
“They didn’t plan on sparing you yesterday,” Shen Yi said, raising an eyebrow.
“Is this uniform for nothing?” Li Mujuan retorted, tugging at the cloud-patterned sleeve. “Those who acted deserved to die, but the others… without their daily labor, where would we get our salaries and food? Hey, don’t push my hand away. You’re acting like a delicate maiden, can’t even be touched.”
“Go sit somewhere else,” Shen Yi said, patting his shoulder casually.
From the moment he woke up, he had never done anything evil, only seeking to protect himself.
How had he ended up being portrayed as some bloodthirsty villain in this woman’s words?
(End of Chapter)