Beyond the Timescape

Chapter 69: Fair and Reasonable

Time flowed into mid-October.

Though it was the season of Cold Dew, Seven Blood Eyes’ coastal geography kept the days blisteringly hot. Only when night fell did the wind turn biting. The sea followed suit. A sinister chill, as if exhumed from a mass grave beneath the waves, rode the moonlight. It blanketed the world, seeping into the marrow of every nocturnal cultivator, forcing them to taste the malice of winter prematurely.

The night breeze swept across the harbor, scattering moonlight over the bluestone paving. It illuminated Xu Qing as he walked toward the berths, his posture strung tight with habitual vigilance after a long shift. His tall, straight silhouette cut through the silver light. His gray robe and long hair swayed in tandem, painting the picture of a solitary phantom beneath the moon.

The chill in the wind made him shiver—not from physical cold, but from the ingrained memory of the slums.

It was like a scorch mark on a painting; no matter how much ink was layered over it or how beautifully it was framed, the canvas itself remembered the burn. Exhaling a misty breath, Xu Qing quickened his pace.

Half a month had passed since the dinner with Zhou Qingpeng and the others.

Xu Qing had clocked in at the Homicide Department every single day. The promotion Zhou Qingpeng had dangled never materialized, nor did Xu Qing care. For him, the sole metric for survival was cultivation.

His Sea Transformation Scripture had reached the absolute peak of the seventh layer. A breakthrough was imminent. The Sea Mountain Technique was right behind it, edging toward the eighth layer.

He ran the calculations. Once both techniques broke through, he could flawlessly instant-kill the version of himself that had first arrived at Seven Blood Eyes. Even against the Vajra Sect Patriarch, an eighth-layer cultivation combined with his shadow would give him a fighting chance to exchange a few lethal blows in a full-force ambush.

“Soon…”

Xu Qing’s eyes narrowed. Aside from the Vajra Sect Patriarch, his highest-priority target was the mermaid youth. He was confident he would soon have the raw power to execute the Patriarch, but the mermaid youth required an opening.

For the past two weeks, Xu Qing had stalked the boy with clinical precision, searching for a fatal angle. But the youth’s guardian was a constant, suffocating presence. The one time the youth ventured out alone, he had deployed a high-tier cloaking artifact, erasing his aura and tracks completely.

Xu Qing hadn’t been able to lock on, but he remained infinitely patient. He analyzed the failure and concluded he needed a preemptive tracking method.

“Next time, I need to plant a mark on him beforehand,” he muttered, filing the tactical adjustment away in his mind just as he had memorized the optimal ways to dissolve a corpse.

He reached the berth at Port Seventy-Nine. The walk had been quiet; no malicious eyes tracked him, no one dared block his path. Although he hadn’t been in Seven Blood Eyes long, he had slaughtered his way to a bloody reputation. That reputation was a currency that bought him space, drastically reducing the number of predators willing to test him.

Xu Qing summoned his Dharma Boat. A massive vessel materialized out of thin air, slamming into the black water with a deafening crash that sent waves surging outward.

Over sixty feet long and thirty feet wide, its sheer mass was oppressive. The pitch-black hull absorbed the moonlight, while the dense, overlapping scales along its exterior gleamed like drawn blades. Crowned with a massive, jagged crocodile head at the bow, the vessel looked like a primordial leviathan. The rows of razor-sharp teeth and the eerie glow in the crocodile’s eyes radiated pure hostility.

A closer inspection revealed that the exterior scales were of a significantly higher grade. Even the interior hull, hidden from prying eyes, was heavily armored. A specialized keel now ran the length of the ship, reinforcing its structural integrity. Swirling currents of wind clung to the hull, amplifying its predatory aura.

The cabin had been massively expanded, housing a resting area, a cultivation chamber, and a custom-built herbal processing room. Occasionally, a streak of cyan light pulsed through the timber like a living vein, further hardening the vessel’s defenses.

Most importantly, a massive groove sat empty on the deck, heavily laced with intricate Formations. It was a socket waiting for its core.

This was the result of Xu Qing liquidating over a hundred Spirit Stones to forge a sixth-grade Dharma Boat using mid-tier materials. Carving out that specific groove had cost an additional ten Spirit Stones.

He had his eye on a specific component: a fragment of a giant whale’s skull. Slotting it in would instantly push the Dharma Boat’s structural defense to the absolute peak of the seventh grade. But the skull was a premium sub-high-grade material, carrying an extortionate price tag of two hundred Spirit Stones.

It was a staggering sum. Xu Qing had visited the market multiple times over the past few days, silently gritting his teeth as he calculated his budget.

“Once I break through to the eighth layer and secure the whale skull… once the boat hits the seventh grade… I’ll set sail,” Xu Qing murmured. Decision made, he boarded the vessel, entered his cultivation chamber, and sat cross-legged on the mat, closing his eyes to cycle his qi.

***

The sea breeze howled through the night, only dying down into a weak, exhausted whisper by dawn. As the first rays of sunlight pierced the gloom, Xu Qing opened his eyes and prepared for another shift.

Without the Night Dove extermination mandates, the Homicide Department’s daily grind was highly bureaucratic and largely idle. They only moved when the Patrol Department filed a formal request for lethal assistance.

Today was one of those days. Shortly after Xu Qing clocked in at the Sixth Team’s courtyard in the Profound Bureau, a dispatch order came down. A small squad of six, including the captain, was mobilized.

En route, the captain briefed them: their target was the Dispatch Department.

The Dispatch Department and the Piloting Department were massive corporate pillars within the harbor district. Dispatch controlled the logistical flow and scheduling of all maritime traffic, while Piloting acted as their operational arm, physically guiding external vessels into the docks. Every port had its own localized branch. Today’s flashpoint was Port Ninety-Six.

A vicious labor dispute had erupted. Over a hundred Piloting Department employees were currently blockading the Dispatch Department, threatening a full-scale riot. Dispatch had called Patrol to mediate, but Patrol found the situation too volatile and escalated it to Homicide.

“The root of the issue is the profit-sharing,” one of the team members sneered. “The extra Reward allocated to Port Ninety-Six’s Piloting Department this month was slashed to ten percent of the standard rate. No one’s going to swallow that kind of cut.”

He elaborated, “Both departments rely on base salaries, but since Piloting does the heavy lifting for Dispatch, and Dispatch skims massive profits off the top, Dispatch is contractually obligated to pay out a performance Reward to Piloting.”

Xu Qing grasped the corporate dynamic immediately.

“The problem,” the team member continued, “is that Port Ninety-Six’s Dispatch just got a new executive overseer—that core disciple, Zhao Zhongheng.”

Xu Qing’s eyes narrowed slightly. He remained silent.

“The moment this core disciple took office, he aggressively restructured the payout. He changed the Piloting Reward from a fifty-fifty split to a ninety-ten split in his favor. Naturally, the Piloting grunts are ready to burn the place down.”

As they arrived at Port Ninety-Six, Xu Qing observed the Dispatch Department’s sprawling architecture, designed to resemble a massive sail laid flat across the ground. Numerous Dharma Boats were parked haphazardly around the perimeter.

At the main gates, over a hundred Piloting disciples formed a furious blockade, screaming at the Dispatch disciples barricaded inside. The air was thick with drawn weapons and boiling killing intent. A massive crowd of onlookers had gathered.

A handful of Patrol Department disciples were sweating profusely, trying to de-escalate the standoff, but neither side was willing to yield a single Spirit Stone. The tension was a powder keg waiting for a spark. Seeing the Homicide Department’s arrival, the Patrol disciples visibly sagged in relief, and the crowd hastily parted to let the executioners through.

The captain, casually crunching on an apple, completely ignored the screaming mobs and the desperate Patrol mediators. He strolled over to a quiet corner, sat down, and made himself comfortable to watch the show. Homicide’s mandate was to clean up the mess *after* the killing started. Since no one was dead yet, it wasn’t their problem.

The rest of the team followed suit. Xu Qing sat down, his eyes scanning the crowd for vital points. He didn’t spot Zhao Zhongheng, but he did lock onto a familiar face.

Standing at the absolute vanguard of the Piloting mob was a stout, furious young man. It was Huang Yan—the same disciple who had casually tossed Xu Qing a Spirit Condensing Leaf at the apothecary.

“You Dispatch bastards!” Huang Yan roared, his face flushed red, the veins in his thick neck bulging. Despite his gray robes, he stood tall, radiating a feral aggression. “You’re cutting off our livelihood! Without that Reward, our cultivation and boat refining will stagnate. In a meat-grinder like this Sect, how are we supposed to survive? You’re sentencing us to death! If we’re going to die anyway, we’re taking you down with us!”

Facing him from behind the Dispatch gates was a middle-aged cultivator, also in gray robes. He wasn’t a standard Dispatch employee; he was Zhao Zhongheng’s personal retainer. Since Zhao Zhongheng had orchestrated this hostile takeover, a man of his status wouldn’t stoop to handle a labor dispute personally. He had sent his dog.

The retainer’s eyes gleamed with cold disdain. Having shadowed a core disciple for so long, he was used to the lower-rung disciples bowing and scraping. He had deluded himself into thinking he shared his master’s untouchable status, viewing these gray-robed laborers as nothing more than expendable trash. Knowing his master would never compromise on profit, the retainer sneered.

“You have the time it takes an incense stick to burn. If you don’t want to die, get the hell out of my sight.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the Piloting disciples erupted with raw killing intent. The Dispatch disciples drew their weapons in response. In the hyper-capitalist slaughterhouse of Seven Blood Eyes, where every disciple had clawed their way out of a wolf’s den, murder was just another transaction.

“Get out of your sight?” Huang Yan’s eyes bulged. “I’ll bury you, you son of a bitch!”

With explosive speed and heavy momentum, he charged forward like a battering ram. The powder keg detonated. In an instant, hundreds of disciples clashed at the gates.

Deafening booms and the shockwaves of spells ripped through the courtyard. A massive, chaotic melee unfolded right in front of Xu Qing. Blood sprayed across the bluestone, accompanied by agonizing shrieks. The Patrol mediators scrambled backward in terror. Xu Qing and his team didn’t move a muscle.

Xu Qing glanced at the captain, who was still chewing his apple, thoroughly entertained by the slaughter. He even clapped a few times at a particularly brutal spell exchange.

“Too many bodies. It’s a bit risky to jump into a meat-grinder like that,” the captain muttered to his squad. “We’ll wait until they thin their own numbers out before we step in to ‘pacify’ them. Besides, a full-scale war between two revenue-generating departments… the Sect won’t tolerate the loss of profit. Ten to one, upper management steps in.”

The casualty count climbed. Amidst the roaring spells, Xu Qing tracked Huang Yan. The stout youth was fighting like a rabid dog, his eyes bloodshot. His seventh-layer Qi Condensation cultivation allowed him to tear through the opposition with brutal efficiency.

Suddenly, Xu Qing noticed the arrogant retainer rapidly retreating through the chaotic Dispatch ranks. His eyes were fixed on Huang Yan with venomous intent. Waiting for Huang Yan’s blind spot, the retainer flicked his wrist. A translucent, willow-leaf flying knife shot from his sleeve. It moved with terrifying velocity, coated in a faint, sickly blue sheen—highly toxic. It was aimed dead at Huang Yan’s throat.

Huang Yan was entirely consumed by the brawl, completely oblivious to the lethal strike closing in.

Xu Qing’s eyes narrowed. He casually flicked his right index finger.

Instantly, a single droplet of water condensed from the humid air and shot forward like a bullet. *Clang!* The hyper-pressurized water droplet slammed into the flat of the flying knife, violently knocking it off its trajectory. The poisoned blade whistled harmlessly past Huang Yan’s face.

Huang Yan flinched, snapping his head toward the source. He locked eyes with Xu Qing, gave a curt nod of acknowledgment, and then turned a look of absolute, murderous rage upon the retainer. With a guttural roar, he bulldozed through the crowd.

“Damn it!” The retainer scrambled backward, but he was too slow. Huang Yan cleared the distance in three massive leaps and slammed into him with bone-shattering force. The sickening crunch of ribs was drowned out by the roar of the riot, but the retainer’s face twisted in agony as he desperately tried to counterattack.

The slaughter raged on.

The captain shot Xu Qing a sideways, half-amused glance. Xu Qing said nothing, his face an impassive mask as he looked away from Huang Yan.

A life for a leaf. The debt was settled.

As the corporate warfare reached a fever pitch, a voice boomed from the horizon, rolling over the courtyard like a peal of thunder.

“CEASE!”

A figure stepped through the air, descending with a suffocating, tyrannical pressure that slammed into the courtyard. The sheer weight of the aura crushed the breath out of every disciple present, forcing the riot to a grinding halt.

“Time to clock in,” the captain muttered, tossing his apple core aside. He stood up, instantly adopting a cold, authoritative posture. Xu Qing and the rest of the Homicide squad rose in unison.

As they stood, the figure from the sky landed, revealing a young man draped in a deep purple Daoist robe. His features were unremarkable, his eyes dead and emotionless, but the sheer power radiating from his frame was absolute. He hovered just above the ground, staring coldly at the bleeding, panting laborers below.