Merin’s gaze sweeps the room calmly.

He notes the elevated platform.

The posture of the men below.

The way Ding San’s breathing remains steady despite the sudden intrusion.

So this is the Black Dog’s head, Merin thinks.

Ding San studies the young captain in return.

Merin speaks calmly.

“We have some questions for you.”

One of the small leaders steps forward, anger flashing across his face.

“How dare you barge in here without permission?”

Merin does not even look at him.

His gaze remains fixed on Ding San.

The small leader’s face twists in rage.

He reaches out and grabs Merin by the collar.

“Hey, who do you think you are, ignoring me?”

In the next instant, Merin’s foot moves.

The sole of his boot slams into the man’s abdomen.

The impact is clean, brutal, and controlled.

The small leader is sent flying backwards, his body smashing into the wall with a dull crack before sliding down in a heap.

Silence crashes into the chamber.

Merin lowers his leg and continues to stare at Ding San as if nothing had happened.

The other small leaders erupt in shouts, faces red with fury, but none of them move.

They have seen it.

The brief crimson flash beneath Merin’s skin.

Blood Seal Realm.

Among them, only Ding San has stepped beyond Blood Mark.

The rest are still bound by it.

Ding San slowly stands up.

The chair behind him creaks as it scrapes against the platform.

He stares hard at Merin, his aura pressing outward, heavy and threatening.

“How dare you beat my man in my territory?”

Merin’s expression does not change.

“Didn’t you see,” he replies evenly, “your man touched my collar.”

“And do you not know who I am?”

Ding San’s eyes narrow.

“A Divine Guard captain,” he says coldly.

“That doesn’t give you the right to beat my people in front of me.”

Behind Merin, Gong Qiu’s pupils tighten.

Blood Seal.

The commander never told him this.

He was only ordered to watch.

Only now does Gong Qiu understand why this young man sits so naturally in a captain’s seat.

Jealousy flickers in his chest.

A man less than half his age has already stepped into Blood Seal, while he himself only recently reached the fifth stage of Blood Mark.

The tension sharpens, thick enough to cut.

Sensing the edge of an explosion, Gong Qiu steps forward.

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“Leader Ding San,” Gong Qiu says firmly, “calm down.”

“If you fight with Lord Duan, you will be sent to the front army.”

He emphasises the word Duan.

Ding San freezes.

His anger drains, replaced by calculation.

Sending him to the frontline for clashing with a captain only happens under one condition.

The captain is a noble.

His gaze sharpens as he studies Merin’s young face again, and a thought clicks into place.

This boy does not have five years of service.

So the position did not come from merit.

And the surname—

Duan.

Marquis Duan.

Realisation strikes.

In only a few breaths, Ding San puts the pieces together.

He bows deeply.

“I ask forgiveness for my man, Lord Duan.”

Merin remains nonchalant.

“I won’t care about him,” he says, “if you tell me about Yin Li and why he went to the Blood Rose Pavilion.”

Ding San straightens slightly.

“I know nothing about Yin Li,” he says.

“He joined the gang around four months ago.”

The chamber falls quiet.

Then Ding San continues, his tone measured.

“And must I explain every time a man visits a brothel?”

Merin looks at him steadily.

“So you can tell me nothing useful.”

Ding San exhales.

“I am a gang leader,” he replies.

“How could I know the details of every member?”

“He worked under Ming Li.”

“He might know something.”

Ding San gestures to one of his men.

Merin glances back.

Gong Qiu understands immediately.

“Ming Li,” Gong Qiu calls.

The man stiffens and is escorted aside for questioning.

While this happens, Merin keeps his eyes on Ding San.

Outwardly calm.

Inwardly focused.

His spirit expands slightly, brushing across the room.

Then he feels it.

One of the gang members avoids his gaze too quickly.

The man’s blood qi feels wrong.

Not vigorous.

Not surging.

Dull.

Like an old man whose vitality is already leaking away.

Merin files the detail away without reacting.

Moments later, Gong Qiu returns.

Merin does not ask what was said.

He already has enough.

“We’ll take our leave for now,” Merin says.

“But we will disturb you again if needed.”

“Until the investigation is complete, try not to leave the city.”

Ding San bows again.

“Lord Merin, you are welcome anytime.”

Merin turns and walks out.

His team follows without question.

The meeting chamber exhales only after they are gone.

—

Back at the Divine Guard headquarters, the team gathers in the outer room.

Merin finds Zhu Jie already waiting for them.

Zhu Jie, leaning against the door, straightens immediately and says, “Lord.”

Merin nods, moves deeper into the room, and leans against the wall.

The others enter one by one and take their places.

Ming Li speaks first.

“Zhu Jie, what did you find?”

Zhu Jie’s excited eyes turn toward Merin, and he asks, “Captain, how did you know Yin Li was one of the northern tribesmen?”

Merin had probed Yin Li’s body the day before with his spirit and sensed the thicker, heavier bone structure, but at the time, the victim’s race had not seemed important enough to mention.

“I guessed, following the clues,” Merin says calmly.

Zhu Jie nods.

Then Zhu Jie asks again, “What did you find about Yin Li in the Black Dog Gang?”

Gong Qiu answers this time.

“Nothing. Nobody was willing to share anything.”

Zhu Jie nods thoughtfully.

“That’s understandable. If the murder was gang-related, they would try to handle it themselves and bury it.”

Zhang Shan adds, “I think Yin Li was an important member of the gang. When we went there, Ding San was present along with all the key figures of the Black Dog Gang.”

The others nod in agreement.

Gong Qiu continues, “We need to meet the northern tribesmen hiding in that courtyard and find out what business the Black Dog Gang is doing with them—besides selling meat.”

They begin discussing possible approaches, weighing risks and routes, voices rising and falling as ideas are exchanged.

Throughout it all, Merin remains silent, listening.

When the discussion finally comes to an end, Merin speaks.

“All of you remember a bald man among them,” he says, “with a scar on his arm.”

They look at him.

The four who went with him to the Black Dog Gang nod slowly in recognition, while Zhu Jie tilts his head, curiosity plain on his face.

“I want to know everything about him,” Merin continues.

Gong Qiu frowns.

“Why?”

“He felt strange to me,” Merin replies.

Confusion spreads across their faces, but before anyone can question further, a low growl breaks the silence.

Then another.

Mei Ji and Zhang Shan freeze.

A heartbeat later, both women realise what happened, and their faces turn red with embarrassment.

Merin lets out a small smile.

“Looks like everyone’s hungry,” he says.

“Let’s go. Today is my treat.”

The tension dissolves.

They leave the headquarters together and enter a restaurant along the street, the kind frequented by guards and merchants alike.

Steam rises from bowls, laughter replaces suspicion, and for a short while, the case fades into the background.

After the meal, as they walk back toward the Divine Guard headquarters, Merin slows his steps.

“You all go ahead,” he says casually.

They nod and continue on.

Merin turns down a side street and finds one of the teenage boys who works under him, pretending to loiter near a stall.

Merin speaks softly, giving a concise description: bald head, scarred arm, gang affiliation, unusual blood qi.

“Find out who he is,” Merin says.

“Everything.”

The boy nods and melts back into the crowd.

When Merin returns to the headquarters, the outer room is empty.

His team has already gone out to follow leads.

He enters his office, closes the door, and resumes cultivation.

Hours pass.

When the sun sinks low and the city lights begin to glow, Merin leaves the building and enters his carriage.

The driver flicks the reins.

The carriage rolls forward.

Minutes later, it slows—then stops.

Merin looks out of the window.

They are not at his estate.

The carriage has halted on a narrow, scheduled street, quiet at this hour.

The driver turns his head slightly and says, “Lord, a tree has fallen on the road.”

“Wait here. I’ll clear it.”

“No need,” Merin replies calmly.

His spirit spreads outward.

Immediately, he senses movement.

Breathing.

Heartbeats.

Figures are hidden on both sides of the street.

He probes more carefully.

Bone structures—thicker, denser.

Northern tribesmen.

Merin exhales softly.

So this is why they came.

He opens the carriage door and steps down onto the street.

His voice carries clearly in the quiet night.

“No need to hide,” he says.

“Come out.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep