Chapter 3: Protective

“Shang Si, I think I’ve run into some trouble.”

With her greatest backer standing right in front of her, Lu Shiyuan blinked her damp eyes and swiftly lodged a complaint about the two silver foxes, right to Shang Si’s face.

In the end, she shot them a smug, triumphant glance—like the ultimate petty winner—and even straightened her posture a little.

So this was what it felt like to have someone watching your back!

Sure enough, after hearing Lu Shiyuan out, Shang Si fell silent for a moment before severing the connection on the sound transmission talisman.

Moments later, the talisman on Nan Jin’s person lit up. Shang Si’s voice emerged from the paper once more, gentle as a trickling stream. “Nan Jin, I left a strand of divine sense on Lu Shiyuan’s Black Iron Token. It’s dispersed now.”

“Female Lord, this minister is with the Sovereign Consort at the moment,” Nan Jin replied respectfully. He already knew what was coming.

He knew that meant someone was about to have a very bad day.

—“Then you should know how to handle it.”

—“Yes.”

Just those two curt exchanges, and the talisman went dark again, the glowing white light fading from its surface. Thousands of years as both ruler and friend—how could Nan Jin not grasp Shang Si’s intent? She hadn’t even bothered to ask who was right or wrong.

To the people of Yedu, there were only two kinds: their own and outsiders.

Reason had never been a match for fists. That was Yedu’s longstanding way—hardline and unyielding.

There was no question which side Lu Shiyuan belonged to. Forget her deep ties to Shang Si or the fact that they’d just been wed the day before. These two silver foxes had dared to flout Yedu City’s rules by attacking someone in broad daylight on the street—that alone was crime enough.

Mere silver foxes, after all.

Nan Jin lowered his gaze. In the next instant, he pocketed the sound transmission talisman and summoned his natal spirit artifact. It hovered in midair as a crushing pressure erupted from him in a heartbeat. His voice rang out, each word deliberate and booming like ocean waves: “By the laws of Yedu City, those who brawl and cause disturbances on the street shall receive thirty lashes from the Heavenly Punishment Whip, be banished from Yedu, and barred from reentry for ten years.”

Every one of Yedu’s Six Great Ghost Generals possessed unfathomable cultivation.

Under that terrifying pressure, the Ling Yuan brothers went ashen-faced. They could scarcely summon the will to resist.

They exchanged a glance. In the end, the elder brother, Ling Yuan, stepped forward. His voice was strained. “Ghost Lord, my brother and I didn’t mean to cause a scene. In light of this being our first offense, could you show mercy just this once?”

“Afterward, we’ll report the truth to our clan elders and bring generous gifts to make amends at your door.” He started with soft pleas and admissions of guilt, then casually name-dropped their clan elders for leverage—a clear reminder that even if Nan Jin wouldn’t give face to the monks, he should at least consider the Buddha.

The Sword Spirit Sect crowd seethed with impotent fury at such blatant excuses.

They weren’t afraid of the Ling brothers. No, they feared this unreasonable King of Hell, Nan Jin, suddenly deciding they were involved too.

Yedu’s Heavenly Punishment Whip was a punishment unique to the city. The executor channeled spiritual power into the whip before lashing the offender. Its material came from the long-vanished Underworld, making every strike not only excruciatingly painful but also draining a portion of the victim’s cultivation base. Demon, devil, or otherwise—no one walked away unscathed.

That was why the once-arrogant Ling brothers had the good sense to switch to honorifics when addressing Nan Jin. They didn’t dare push their luck.

Thirty lashes would leave them flayed and bleeding, their lost cultivation irrecoverable for years.

It all hinged now on whether he’d deign to go easy on them.

Nan Jin had a reputation for ironclad impartiality and being impossible to sway. Whether they’d escape this time was anyone’s guess.

Ling Yuan’s nerves were strung tight, awaiting the verdict.

And it was as if the heavens themselves had heard their silent plea—

“Very well,” Nan Jin agreed readily.

The Ling brothers exhaled in profound relief. On the Sword Spirit Sect side, eyes bulged with outrage.

But before the pair could say another word, Nan Jin continued with a playful lilt, a sinister gleam flashing in his eyes: “In that case, you two can have a go at this lord. You were so arrogant and vicious just now… Now, let this lord have a taste!”

With that, he flung the long spear in his hand. It embedded itself steadily right before Ling Yuan, gleaming with cold light as it hummed ominously. In an instant, spiderweb cracks spiderwebbed across the solid ground.

Killing intent rolled in like a tidal wave. Nan Jin toed off lightly and rose into the air, his narrow eyes slanting down at them.

Whether they took their beating passively or swung back—it didn’t matter.

Escape wasn’t on the table.

At first, Lu Shiyuan fretted that this ironclad General Nan Jin might dish out the same treatment to her fellow sect disciples. But soon, she caught the real flavor of it.

Impartial? Hardly. This was favoritism taken to the extreme—pulling every string at Shang Si’s behest to vent her grievances!

After piecing it all together, Lu Shiyuan led her fellow sect members in comfortably watching the one-sided thrashing.

It went on until Ling Yuan and his brother were beaten to a bloody pulp and dragged out through Yedu City’s gates.

This brutal display—killing the chicken to scare the monkeys—served as a stark lesson to Yedu’s restless ghosts and monsters.

Once the city guards departed, the crowd of onlookers scattered like birds and beasts, each returning to their own business.

The main street soon buzzed with its usual lively clamor once more, leaving only the Sword Spirit Sect group behind, still lost in a daze.

From a nearby street corner, a low-level ghost monster hawked spiritual medicines at the top of its lungs. The distant shouts carried an oddly unreal quality.

“Senior Sister Lu.” Suddenly, one of the disciples called out to her softly.

He asked in a cautious whisper, “That Ghost Lord from earlier… did he forget about us?”

“Or is he planning to settle the score later?”

Lu Shiyuan couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

Truth be told, she had slipped out of the Imperial City precisely to reassure her sect brothers and sisters. She wanted them to stop fretting that Shang Si had pressured her into yesterday’s wedding through some shady means.

After all, the way Yedu’s people had “invited” her back then had been far from gentle.

But now, thanks to this unexpected turn, the top priority had shifted to tending to the wounded.

Lu Shiyuan lingered at the Official Residence for more than half an hour before taking her leave. With nowhere else to go and no interest in wandering the streets, she simply tapped her fingertip lightly in the air twice. A Sound Transmission Talisman of exceptional quality materialized, drifting into view.

Lu Shiyuan fixed her gaze on the talisman paper and channeled a thread of spiritual power into it, probing tentatively. “Shang Si?”

Almost immediately, spiritual light flickered twice across the talisman’s surface, pulsing gently. “Mm?”

To her surprise, Shang Si didn’t let the overture fizzle out in silence. From the other end came her voice, drawn out in a leisurely tone.

At that moment, the corners of Lu Shiyuan’s lips curved upward ever so slightly.

She recalled what Liuzhu had told her that morning before she left, and so she asked, “Are you done with your work? Can I come find you?”

“Not yet.” The reply was curt.

Shang Si’s voice remained utterly calm, almost like a polite brush-off.

Just then, the crisp jingle of a bell rang out. Lu Shiyuan could almost picture Shang Si lifting her hand right in front of her.

She let out a silent sigh, already reaching to sever the pointless exchange.

But then came a faint rustle from the talisman, and Shang Si’s voice returned—gentler this time—as she finished her thought. “But you can come.”