CHAPTER 178: CHAPTER 178 –LAW

Two days passed in quiet tension.

That evening, Carson sat with his family around the small firepit in the center of their new home. Smoke curled slowly upward into the rafters, carrying with it the savory scent of roasting meat. Their hall was spacious—far more than they were used to—but tonight it still felt empty. Perhaps it was because the joy of receiving a new house had faded, leaving behind the very real weight of uncertainty.

They roasted thin strips of dried meat over the flames, turning them slowly, letting the oils sizzle and drip. Taro sat close by, coaxing the fire to a suitable heat, while their daughter, Leaf, watched the meat intently, as if she could make it cook faster by staring.

Carson, however, barely tasted the food. His mind was elsewhere.

He had once commanded men, had once issued orders with confidence. But now, after arriving in Black Tortoise City, his former subordinates had all found work—good positions at that. Carson, however, still waited. And waiting, he realized, was far more painful than fighting.

If he continued without work, they wouldn’t be able to sustain themselves. Their meals these past two days had been covered in advance at the exchange center, but starting tomorrow, they would need to contribute actual value to obtain food. The thought pressed heavily on him.

Taro lifted her eyes from the fire, noticing the furrow between her husband’s brows. She spoke softly, trying to soothe him, "I asked around today. Many workers are being assigned to workshops now. Once there’s an opening, I’ll go as well. The income may not be much, but it will help."

Carson forced a nod, his throat tight. "Yes. That would be... good."

"I can help too!" Leaf piped up eagerly, raising her tiny hand like she was in a classroom.

Taro chuckled, shaking her head. "No, sweetheart. Your job is to stay home and keep the house warm and safe." She offered a fresh skewer. "Here, eat more. You’re still growing."

"Oh." Leaf accepted the food obediently.

Carson straightened his back and forced a reassuring smile, gentle but firm. "Don’t worry. I will find a job soon. I promise."

Taro’s expression softened. She didn’t doubt him—not even a little. "I believe you."

Their daughter nodded too, chewing seriously, as if her belief was something physical she could show with effort.

Just as warmth began to fill the room, the moment was cut short.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

A knock echoed sharply against their door—firm, authoritative.

Then a cold voice called, "Carson. The City Lord requests your presence."

Carson jolted upright, heart leaping. He hurried to open the door.

A woman in armor stood outside. Stern, composed, her expression unreadable. It was Lieutenant Yanlu of the Ghost Special Forces—a group everyone in the city had heard rumors about, though few had ever seen.

"Come. The City Lord is waiting," she said.

Carson instinctively reached for his boots—only then realizing that he still held a skewer of roasted meat in one hand. Yanlu’s eyes flicked to it but she said nothing. As soon as they stepped beyond the threshold, her body shimmered and vanished—the invisibility ability of the Ghost Unit. Carson felt a faint prickle on the back of his neck. He knew she was still there, walking beside him silently, observing.

His mind raced with questions.

Was this finally his assignment? Would he be trusted? Or used merely as labor?

The climb toward the City Lord’s Mansion felt endless. When he reached the high stone steps leading to the main hall, he paused briefly to draw in a steadying breath. The air here felt heavier, filled with authority and expectation.

The gates of the mansion stood open. No guards flanked them—not visibly.

Carson hesitated. "...Should I announce myself?"

There was no movement. No sound. Only silence.

"The City Lord’s Mansion is this unguarded?" he murmured quietly.

Yanlu’s voice suddenly materialized beside him, accompanied by her reappearing form. "You should put down the barbecue first."

Carson jumped, nearly choking on his breath. Only then did he realize he was still holding the half-eaten skewer. Face flushing, he popped the last bite into his mouth and tossed the wooden stick aside.

Yanlu didn’t comment. She simply turned. "Follow me."

Carson hurried after her.

They passed through corridors lit by crystal lamps—steady, soft light that reflected off polished floors. Servants moved quietly along the edges, well-trained and orderly. The calm atmosphere did nothing to ease Carson’s growing anxiety.

Yanlu stopped outside a study door and knocked.

"Enter," came a deep, steady voice from within.

The room was warm with the scent of ink and parchment. Luciel, the City Lord, sat behind a large desk, reviewing documents. His expression was composed, but his eyes—sharp like cold obsidian—lifted toward Carson with measured attention.

"You may sit."

Carson sat carefully, spine straight, both hands resting on his knees.

Luciel interlaced his fingers. "I have called you here to assign you a position."

Carson’s heart tightened. He forced himself not to show anticipation. "I await your instruction, my lord."

"I am establishing a new law enforcement department in the outer city," Luciel began. "It will be known as the Patrol Guard."

Carson blinked, momentarily stunned. Law enforcement? He had expected guard work at most—manual labor at worst.

Luciel continued, "The structure is simple. At the highest rank is the Chief of Security. Below that, sergeants. Beneath them, the patrol members."

Carson’s pulse quickened. He could already sense where this was heading.

"You," Luciel said, "will serve as the first Sergeant of the Patrol Guard. Your duty will be to maintain public order and handle conflicts and violence within the outer city."

Carson inhaled sharply. A mixture of relief, disbelief, and pressure surged through him. He straightened even further. "I... will not disappoint you."

Luciel picked up a small booklet and handed it to him. "This contains the laws and regulations of Black Tortoise City. You must memorize all of it. Only then may you formally begin selecting members for your patrol unit."

Carson opened the booklet and read silently.

Those who commit deliberate murder shall be sentenced to execution.

Those who steal shall be sentenced to reform labor, with time served based on value stolen.

Those who engage in fights shall pay compensation based on injuries and may also serve prison labor.

His brows knitted deeper with every line. Some laws seemed strict—far stricter than he was accustomed to. Even fights that barely broke a tooth were documented and penalized. The regulations accounted for responsibility, restitution, injury, and reform.

These laws were... comprehensive. Heavy. Unyielding.

He lifted his gaze hesitantly. "My lord... are these to be enforced exactly as written?"

Luciel nodded once. "Yes. Black Tortoise City will be governed by law. Not influence. Not intimidation. Not favoritism. These rules are the foundation of our city’s future."

Carson lowered his head, understanding the gravity of it. "I will memorize it."

Luciel’s voice did not soften, but there was something steadying in it. "Not only you. Every member who joins the Patrol Guard must do the same."

Carson felt a bead of sweat slide down his temple. Memorizing this entire booklet... Every patrol member... This was no ordinary assignment. This was the building of a city’s backbone.

But he did not retreat.

"There is no problem," he said firmly, even though his stomach twisted. "I accept."

Luciel gave a small approving nod. "Good. Once you are ready, return to me. You are dismissed."

Carson rose, bowed deeply, and turned to leave.

His steps were heavier now—not with dread, but with responsibility.

Outside the study, Mirean Moon—Luciel’s advisor—smiled faintly. "You might be pushing him quite hard."

Luciel shook his head. "No. The law must be upheld by those who understand it. If a law enforcer needs to check the regulations while enforcing, then neither the law nor the enforcer has dignity."

Mirean’s smile deepened. "And the city will need educated officers eventually."

"Yes," Luciel sighed. "First, we teach literacy. Then, we test. Only the capable may serve."

The future of the city was being crafted piece by piece.

And Carson had just taken his first step into shaping it.