Chapter Five: Uprooting the Cause

The Embroidered Uniform Guard was a household name in the Xia Kingdom. Internally, their duty was to supervise public spirit practitioners, ensuring there was no corruption, factionalism, dereliction of duty, or breaches of national discipline among them. They also apprehended spies from other nations and dealt with dangerous international criminals—always cases involving spirit practitioners. Ordinary criminals were handled by separate agencies.

Externally, their natural role was the acquisition of foreign intelligence. Of course, the Embroidered Uniform Guard would never admit to this aspect of their work.

Given the critical importance of their mission, each major city in Xia boasted a branch of the Guard. In Shanghai—the nation’s foremost international metropolis—the garrisoned branch was second in size only to the capital’s.

The headquarters, built in the style of the Tang dynasty, exuded a stately, ancient grandeur. The vermillion doors stood firmly shut, overhead a placard inscribed with the words “Embroidered Uniform Guard” in bold, forceful strokes, emanating an aura of severity and discipline. Before the doors, two guards in flying fish robes stood ramrod straight, their gazes vigilant and sweeping.

A ride-share car rolled to a stop at the foot of the steps.

Wang Debiao alighted, gazing up at the solemn, imposing structure before him, his heart fluttering with apprehension.

Bai Yujing reassured him, “There’s nothing to fear. It’s the evildoers who ought to be afraid.”

“Thank you both,” Wang Debiao replied, his face full of gratitude. He pulled out his phone. “Do I just tap ‘confirm’ to complete the ride?”

“Yes, and don’t forget to leave a five-star review.” Bai Yujing took the phone, handling the rating himself. The speed of order completion and the number of positive reviews affected the system’s future dispatches—too many poor reviews or slow responses would reduce the flow of assignments.

Once Bai Yujing finished, Wang Debiao pocketed his phone and walked up the steps.

One of the guards to the left of the doorway called out, “Sir, what business brings you to the Embroidered Uniform Guard?”

“I’m here to file a complaint!” Wang Debiao shouted, summoning his courage.

The two guards could barely conceal their delight; they opened the doors at once and ushered him in. If there was anything the Guard relished most, it was someone coming to report a case. Once verified, it counted toward their performance for the month.

Watching Wang Debiao enter, Liu Shuangling’s heart gave a sudden jolt. She realized a grave problem: now that the order was complete, would she have to return to her punishment—copying out “Do not commit a small evil, do not neglect a small good”?

Absolutely not!

She spun around, her delicate oval face alight with righteous fervor. “If scum like Wang Fa and his lot aren’t dealt with, it’s a mockery of justice. In my opinion, rather than relying on an investigation, we should quietly take matters into our own hands.”

Bai Yujing shot her a glance and tapped her abdomen with a finger, his spiritual pressure seeping through her clothes.

“Ah!” Liu Shuangling doubled over in pain, cold sweat beading on her forehead, her chest even fuller in that posture.

“I believe I’ve told you before—honesty is important.”

Liu Shuangling very much wanted to honestly curse his family, but she restrained herself and straightened, gritting out, “Let’s go, then.”

“Yes. We’ll make a trip to Huangjia Town.” Bai Yujing gripped her shoulder.

A formless ripple spread from his body, sweeping across the city and instantly reaching Huangjia Town, thirty kilometers away.

For Bai Yujing, this planet had neither national borders nor distances. With a single step, he could appear anywhere.

…

On the western edge of Huangjia Town, where vast farmlands once stretched, a picturesque private estate now stood. At its center, a three-story mansion in European style towered, exuding impressive grandeur. The exterior walls, mostly ivory, were accented with dark brown wood, presenting an elegant yet modern look.

Town chief Huang Youcai sat in the ground-floor parlor, his face dark, eyes coldly sweeping the three before him—his son Huang Youfu, his nephew-in-law Wang Fa, and Wang Fugui, deputy chief of Wangjia Village.

The telephone on the table remained stubbornly silent.

The atmosphere grew heavier by the moment. At last, Huang Youcai slammed the table. “Wang Fa!”

“Uncle, I was wrong!” Wang Fa dropped to his knees, slapping his own face in contrition.

Huang Youfu, unable to watch his close friend suffer, quickly tried to smooth things over. “Dad, you can’t blame Wang Fa for this. Who could have guessed that honest, meek Wang Debiao would dare do something like this?”

“If you hadn’t violated other men’s wives and daughters, would this have happened?!”

“You’re not exactly innocent yourself, Father.”

Enraged, Huang Youcai grabbed the teacup and hurled it. “Fool! At least I covered my tracks—no one ever found out. Unlike you, committing such acts right in front of their families!”

“Master Huang, there’s no need for anger,” Wang Fugui interjected. “With Wang Debiao’s meager resources, he couldn’t possibly hire a top-class bodyguard. Our assassin will intercept him soon enough.”

“Fugui, it’s thanks to your warning this time.”

“Master Huang, you flatter me—it’s only what I ought to do,” Wang Fugui beamed, not out of any desire to help Wang Debiao topple the Huangs but to manufacture a crisis and then resolve it, gaining Huang Youcai’s trust. The neighboring village chief would retire soon, and he was eager to serve the people in a higher position.

Huang Youfu grinned slyly. “Exactly. Once Wang Debiao’s dead, I’ll have Zhang San and the others take care of those two wretched women. Then it’ll all be over.”

“Are you speaking of us?” came a calm voice from outside the door.

Four severed heads were tossed into the room.

Thud—thud. The heads struck the floor, blood soaking into the golden wood.

“Zhang San?!” Huang Youfu’s eyes widened in terror at one familiar face. “You dare kill my men?!”

His body, weakened by years of debauchery, sprang from the sofa. Suddenly, a faint creaking sounded in his ear, as if a tremendous force were grinding the very air. Instinctively, he looked up—his pupils shrank in horror.

The ceiling above, under invisible spiritual pressure, began to twist. Reinforced concrete crumpled like fragile paper, groaning as it was crushed and torn. Debris rained down. In an instant, the two upper floors—furniture and all—were pulverized by an irresistible force and scattered to the wind.

Sunlight poured in unhindered, illuminating the once-dim parlor. A few clouds drifted lazily in the blue sky above.

A figure stood aloft, as if a deity far above the world, casting his gaze down from the heavens.

His gaze landed on Huang Youfu.

In that instant, every vein in Huang’s body bulged like coiling dragons, crawling over his skin. Pain contorted his features into something ghastly, almost demonic.

A second later, his head exploded without warning—blood and brain matter splattering across the floor.

Huang Youcai’s pupils quivered. Not for a moment did he grieve his son’s death; the urge to beg for mercy seized his heart. “No—don’t kill me!”

Bang!

Wang Fugui’s head burst as well, gore splattering Wang Fa’s face. The sudden horror stopped Wang Fa’s heart, foam bubbling at his lips as he collapsed.

“Bang~” Liu Shuangling, standing aside, softly provided the soundtrack to this overwhelming slaughter.

Huang Youcai’s head followed, bursting like a firework in the air, blood blooming red in the sunlight.

Truly a monster, she thought, tilting her head back in awe at Bai Yujing’s mastery of spiritual pressure. Power enough to crush buildings and burst heads with a glance, unleashed over the entire area—yet she hadn’t felt a thing.

“All right, time to go back and continue copying: ‘Do not commit a small evil, do not neglect a small good.’”

Damn it!

Liu Shuangling swore that one day, she would lock him in a cellar and make him copy it eighty million times!