Chapter Three: Captain of the Imperial Guards

The rooster crowed, the moon hung high in the sky.
Dawn was not yet here, but the darkness had begun to thin.
“Knock, knock.”
“Knock, knock.”
The sudden rapping at the door broke the silence of the inn—neither hurried nor slow, it was firm but unintrusive, neither vexing to the occupant within nor careless in its intent.
With a creak, Lu Zhou opened the door to find a man standing outside.
The newcomer had thick brows, narrow eyes, and lips pressed into a thin line, his face shadowed with a cold, sullen indifference.
Lu Zhou’s eyes sparkled with a gentle smile. “Are you here for me?”
His smile was like a spring breeze—warm and unaffected by the early disturbance, as if greeting an old friend, though in truth this was their first meeting.
But the man only cast him a frosty glance. “Young Master Lu, I am Anger, a captain of the Qian Niu Guards. The city commandant heard of your arrival and sent me to inform you that a banquet will be held at Yunxi Tower at the hour of Si.”
“Yunxi Tower? Am I the only guest?”
“No, there will also be cultivators from more than seventy sects, large and small, from around Shen Zhou City.”
“With such a grand gathering, is it possible not to attend?”
“No one has ever dared to refuse the commandant’s invitation.”
“So, attendance is mandatory?”
“Yes.”
Lu Zhou sighed. “In that case, please relay to the commandant that I, Lu Zhou, will certainly be present at Yunxi Tower at the appointed hour.”
“No need. I’ll wait here for you,” Anger replied coolly.
…Was this man perhaps a bit too obstinate?
Lu Zhou sighed inwardly. Over seventy sects from the city and its surroundings—what was Commandant Chao planning?
He had been singled out from among the disciples of Lingyun Pavilion, and now it was clear it wasn’t simply because he was familiar with Shen Zhou City.
This banquet would be difficult to attend…
Two hours later, Lu Zhou followed behind Anger toward Yunxi Tower, maintaining a polite distance—not so far as to seem aloof, nor so close as to imply intimacy.
Even if a passerby happened to glance their way, they would only see two strangers heading in the same direction.
Even walking was an art.
Lu Zhou’s gaze drifted to the sword at Anger’s waist—a three-foot blade, unadorned by a scabbard, gleaming nakedly in the sunlight, its brilliance impossible to ignore.
They entered Yunxi Tower, which was already packed and bustling.
All eyes fell on Anger—his sword was simply too dazzling.
Lu Zhou, slipping in behind, was as inconspicuous as a pebble, easily overlooked.
Not a single seat was vacant at the banquet, but Lu Zhou was not perturbed. Since the commandant had asked him here, arrangements would surely have been made. He had delayed for days on the road, and the commandant’s men had waited just as long—from the moment he left seclusion until he entered the city, eyes had been watching him.
Perhaps more than one pair.
He found a quiet corner and ordered a jug of wine.

He poured a cup but did not drink, leaving it in front of him.
Before long, Anger returned. “Young Master Lu, your seat has been prepared. Please follow me.”
Lu Zhou nodded, pushed the wine cup forward. “Brother Ang, I’ve troubled you today. Please accept this humble cup.”
Anger glanced at him, his eyes tinged with disdain, but he took the cup and drained it in one gulp.
Satisfied, Lu Zhou stowed the wine jug in his storage pouch, and even took the cup Anger had just used, wiping the rim with his sleeve before placing it away as well, unfazed by Anger’s odd look.
“Who else has been invited today?”
“Master Lin He of Liangshan Academy, Master Kuye of Vajra Temple, Abbess Jingwu of Shuiyue Nunnery, Chief Escort Zhuge Dashan of the South Sea Escort Agency… And many minor sects whose names I’ve forgotten.”
“Has anyone from Qingxi Academy come?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Your junior, Huang Dacheng.”
Lu Zhou nodded, saying no more, a trace of scorn curling his lips. Anger caught the expression, his own contempt flickering in return.
Lu Zhou, guided by an attendant, made his way unhurriedly to his seat. At the table sat an old monk, a nun, and a Confucian scholar—just as Anger had described: Lin He, Master Kuye, and Abbess Jingwu. As for which of the others was Zhuge Dashan, Lu Zhou could not tell.
Once seated, the others began to size up Lu Zhou. After all, to share this table meant he must be someone of note in Shen Zhou.
Who was this young man?
“Amitabha. Benefactor, your face is unfamiliar—may I ask who you are?” Master Kuye pressed his palms together in greeting.
Lu Zhou hurriedly stood, feigning humility. “A member of a minor sect, only seated here because there were no other places. Please forgive the intrusion.”
“So that’s how it is.”
Though skeptical, the others could see Lu Zhou’s cultivation was only at the Core Formation level, and soon lost interest, turning back to their own conversations.
Lin He of Liangshan Academy sighed. “The commandant has recently ordered us to move out of Liangshan, to make way for Yiqing Temple. Our academy has stood for over a thousand years—how can we just move because he says so?”
Master Kuye replied, “Amitabha, do not be rash, Sir Lin. Today, we must make things clear with the commandant.”
Lin He snorted. “Master Kuye, it’s not so simple. You, of all people, know there’s no such thing as a harmless banquet. The commandant didn’t invite us here just to negotiate.”
Abbess Jingwu slammed her fist on the table. “The great Shuo Kingdom cannot—”
Her words were cut off as the curtain in the distance was suddenly swept aside.
A figure emerged—draped in sable furs, hair tied in the northern manner, thick brows shadowing eyes that seemed to pierce the soul.
Everyone stood at once; Lu Zhou rose with measured calm.
“Commandant,” they all greeted in unison.
Lu Zhou did not look directly, but he knew this was Chao Lu, commander of Shen Zhou’s governor’s office.
“I am honored by your presence, friends and colleagues.
Since Great Shuo took the Central Continent, the people have lived in peace, cultivators share resources, and all sects flourish in a time of prosperity.
But as you know, the Daoist sect is the state religion of Shuo. Yet in this city, the spiritual springs are mostly occupied by academies and Buddhist temples, and even the blessed lands outside the city have all been claimed. Our Daoist sect has no place to call its own—this is not as it should be.”

“Liangshan Academy in particular—I’ve sent people there but seem to have met with little courtesy from Principal Lin?”
The guests were startled; Chao Lu wasted no time on pleasantries, going straight to the point.
“Commandant Chao, what are you really saying?” Lin He stood, his face flushed with anger.
Chao Lu smiled faintly. “I’ve heard that the sages of Confucianism prize benevolence above all. Now, with Daoists homeless, perhaps Principal Lin, who speaks so often of righteousness, might grant Liangshan Academy to the Daoist sect? What do you say?”
Lin He exploded, “Nonsense! Liangshan Academy has stood for a thou—thou—”
He broke off, clutching his throat.
Blood spurted through his fingers, splattering across the table; his eyes bulged, and he collapsed with a crash.
“Amitabha, such sin, such sin.”
Master Kuye recited a Buddhist prayer and closed his eyes, shutting out the world.
Abbess Jingwu’s face turned ashen.
Lu Zhou sighed. The blow had come from Anger behind Chao Lu—a single sweep of sword energy, delivered without moving from his spot, cutting Lin He’s throat in an instant.
His sword blazed with deadly light.
Chao Lu laughed. “A small mishap, I hope you won’t take offense. In truth, our Great Shuo is quite kind to those who submit. Any cultivator willing to join us is welcomed with open arms. In fact, today I wish to introduce a new member… Young Master Lu?”
Lu Zhou had no choice but to rise, offering Chao Lu a faint smile.
“Once a disciple of Qingxi Academy, now a member of Lingyun Pavilion—Lu Zhou is exactly the talent our nation needs. Today, before you all, I appoint Lu Zhou as a captain of the Qian Niu Guards.”
An uproar.
A Qian Niu Guard captain?
With only Core Formation strength?
In Shen Zhou, the Qian Niu Guards were feared as demons, and their captains even more so—there were only five captains in the entire city. That Lu Zhou, with such modest cultivation, should become the sixth, astonished everyone.
The others at the table now looked at Lu Zhou with new, complicated expressions.
“Thank you, Commandant. I am honored to serve.”
Lu Zhou bowed slightly.
“No need for such formality, Captain Lu. In fact, you should call me senior brother, as we are both disciples of Lingyun Pavilion. Allow me to toast you.” Chao Lu raised his cup and approached.
He did this for more than one reason: not only to make an example of Lu Zhou, but to use him as a model, encouraging more cultivators to submit to Shuo. Endless war was not Shuo’s aim—they wanted resources and loyalty, not slaughter.
Chao Lu was shrewd; upon learning of Lu Zhou, he had immediately thought of how best to use him. He summoned him from Lingyun Pavilion, observed him from the moment he left seclusion, monitored his arrival in the city, and even knew all about his visit to Qingxi Academy the day before. He had watched every move Lu Zhou made, even as he entered the tavern just now.
In his eyes, Lu Zhou’s power was unremarkable, but his temperament was steady… or perhaps timid. From the wilds of the Great Wilderness to Shen Zhou, he had never dared use magic to speed his journey, taking half a month to arrive at a measured pace—making Chao Lu wait all this time.
But he had come at last. Whether he could be trusted remained to be seen.
As Chao Lu approached, he saw Lu Zhou calmly produce the wine jug and cup he had prepared earlier, pouring himself a drink with unhurried ease. The smile froze on Chao Lu’s lips.
This boy…
He really was afraid of dying.