“Dad, that’s a hereditary Baihu!”

“A Baihu of the Embroidered Guards, a proper sixth-rank official.”

“Why do you think the neighbors respect you? Why do you think the people on the street treat us kindly?”

“Why do you think our family has had smooth sailing all along?”

“Because of the official title, that’s the foundation!”

The young man, dressed in short robes, gripped the wooden sword tightly, his face full of indignation as he stared at Baihu Xiang.

Baihu Xiang didn’t speak.

Hereditary Baihu, a title passed from father to son.

Now that he had taken the initiative to relinquish it and resign, the position had gone to someone else.

That was unfair to his son.

But there was nothing he could do.

“The trouble others cause, why can’t they bear it themselves?”

“Why do you always have to be the one to step up?”

“Have you ever considered whether this is fair to me?”

The young man looked at his father in disbelief.

He didn’t understand.

Without the tiger’s skin that was the title of Embroidered Guard Baihu, anyone could bully them from now on.

Baihu Xiang said, “Some things… you don’t understand. Go train.”

Even without this matter, their days in the Embroidered Guard wouldn’t have gone smoothly for long.

It was merely a matter of interest exchange.

The nobleman behind them had fallen from grace. Another would rise to take his place and would need new subordinates.

Either you switch allegiance or get out.

“What’s the point of training?!”

The young man roared and flung his wooden sword to the ground, smashing it into pieces with a crack.

Bang!

He slammed the door as he stormed out.

Baihu Xiang rose, lifting a hand as if to call after him, but in the end only sighed.

The old woman inside the room shook her head slightly but said nothing to criticize the old man.

All they could hope for now was that their son would return after cooling down.

The next morning.

Baihu Xiang tucked an official memorial into his robes and made his way to the residence of Jing’an Marquis.

Knock knock.

He knocked on the side door.

An unfamiliar steward opened the door.

Old Xiang looked slightly surprised, then said in a low voice, “Please inform the young master I wish to see him.”

“And you are?” The steward wasn’t arrogant. That silver embroidered uniform spoke of rank; clearly this man was an official.

And since the young master was Deputy Commander of the Office of Military Affairs, it wasn’t unusual for someone from the Embroidered Guards to come calling.

However, this person seemed unaware of the current news.

“I am Xiang Hu, Baihu of the Southern Office of the Embroidered Guards,” Baihu Xiang said with a cupped-fist salute.

The steward suddenly understood, but shook his head. “The young master isn’t seeing guests.”

“Please make an exception.” Xiang Hu tried to hand him five taels of silver.

But the steward didn’t take it. Instead, he sighed. “You just got back?”

Xiang Hu was a bit surprised but quickly nodded. “That’s right.”

He really had just returned. With everything that happened yesterday, he hadn’t had the chance to visit the Marquis’s son.

On top of that, the whole unit had marched day and night over a long distance. He was already exhausted.

There was no energy left to deal with anything else.

That’s why he came today, though it was abrupt.

The steward shook his head and closed the door.

Xiang Hu furrowed his brows. Something major had definitely happened. Otherwise, why would this be the response?

Since the steward wouldn’t say anything, he’d have to find another way in.

Xiang Hu put on a black robe, covering the silver-embroidered uniform, and headed straight to the market.

The Liang City marketplace was bustling.

Even with the northern campaign ongoing, it hadn’t affected Liang City.

The debauchery and luxury remained, captivating as ever.

Commoners and laborers moved through the streets, windows open in the towers and pavilions above.

Xiang Hu turned into a winding alley.

Knock knock knock, knock knock.

Three long, two short.

A small door opened. A shifty-eyed, rat-faced middle-aged man poked his head out.

“Master Xiang?” The man nicknamed Short Rat was slightly surprised.

“Short Rat, I need to see Old Ghost.”

“Come in.”

Short Rat stepped aside, letting Xiang Hu enter.

At the same time, he looked around the alley nervously, as if worried Baihu Xiang had brought someone with him.

The door closed behind them.

The two-courtyard compound was tightly sealed, entry permitted, exit not. High walls and shadowed courtyards formed deep pockets of gloom.

“A rare guest indeed. Master Xiang, finished with your mission?”

The voice arrived before the man did.

Sinister and low.

Out from the shadows walked a young man, dark-skinned, ordinary-looking.

Someone like this would never attract attention on the street.

Old Ghost noticed Baihu Xiang’s empty sleeve. A flash of dread passed over his face.

His expression darkened, and his voice dropped: “Who did it?”

“A spirit creature. Doesn’t matter.”

Baihu Xiang clearly didn’t want to talk about how he lost his arm.

“The Leaning Red Brothel hasn’t even opened its doors yet. I know you haven’t been there.”

“I came to ask you something. Your information network is sharp. I want to know, what happened to the Heir of Jing’an?”

Old Ghost hesitated, organizing his thoughts. “No one knows where the heir returned from. Missions by the Embroidered Guard are extremely confidential, and even I couldn’t find out.”

“Rumor is, he went out to deal with some demonic entities… got injured. His leg was badly hurt.”

“Probably won’t be able to walk properly again for the rest of his life.”

The words rang in Baihu Xiang’s ears like muffled thunder, his head buzzing.

It was over.

If the injury had been somewhere hidden, it might’ve been salvaged. But a crippled leg…

In the past dynasty, even a crown prince had been deposed because of a leg injury, much less the son of a marquis.

“No wonder…” Baihu Xiang murmured.

No wonder that as soon as he returned, having even achieved merit, the fat white-faced qianhu commander still couldn’t hold back.

Turns out the powerful patron behind him no longer had hope of regaining power.

He might even be in danger of losing his life.

“Master Xiang?” Old Ghost’s voice pulled Xiang Hu from his thoughts.

Xiang Hu gave a slight nod. “Thank you.”

“I’ve decided to resign from the Baihu post. You all need to be extra cautious now, don’t get caught by the Embroidered Guard.”

He warned them.

“Master Xiang, the Heir of Jing’an… he likely won’t survive. And he has healthy brothers.”

“Why not serve another master?” Old Ghost asked.

Xiang Hu didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “I got information from you. Why didn’t you take my silver?”

“Because you once did me a favor.”

“Exactly. A favor.”

Xiang Hu turned and left.

He never mentioned switching allegiances.

And he had no such thought.

If he wanted to he could easily, even at fifty years of age, even with a severed arm. As a second-rate expert, he was still valuable to the court.

Such men could be worth dozens of ordinary soldiers.

Kept close, they were a strong line of defense.

But unfortunately, he didn’t want that.

At this age, all edges should’ve been worn down.

If you still had no principles, living aimlessly was meaningless.

Xiang Hu had submitted his resignation early in the morning.

The reply from above came swiftly.

But it wasn’t an approval of resignation, it stripped him of the hereditary Baihu title and reassigned him to the Embroidered Guard prison as a gatekeeper.

Delivering food and patrolling cells.

That was where the elderly Embroidered Guard officers were sent.

The silver-embroidered Baihu robe was stripped away. In its place, he wore a black Embroidered Guard uniform and a waist-sword. Xiang Hu arrived at the gates of the prison.

The prison was a cage and a grave.

The Embroidered Guard, apart from those who died in battle, had no concept of retirement. Many of their deeds were too secret to speak of.

The court would never allow them to leave freely.

Even an ordinary soldier couldn’t just walk away.

The old Embroidered Guards were thrown into the prison, and over time, it swallowed them whole.

Those sent there didn’t complain.

At least they were still on the payroll, still serving.

Living numbly, mechanically.

But inside the soul-banner, Tu Shanjun’s eyes gleamed.

A prison!

Wasn’t that a natural training ground?

If a few death-row inmates died, no one would even notice.

And the way he killed by pulling out the living soul, it would leave no external wounds.

It could easily be passed off as natural death.

“I must tell him the cultivation scripture. Let him try sensing qi,” Tu Shanjun resolved.

He had already tried the night before.

But failed.

He wasn’t the banner’s master, and with no support from spiritual energy, Tu Shanjun simply couldn’t perform dream infiltration.

Things weren’t looking great for him.

Xiang Hu received his new badge and entered the prison.

(Chapter End)