Meanwhile, Zhen was pleased. The mission had turned out to be as simple as he had hoped.
A mere two minutes of patrolling, weaving through the crowded market streets, nodding at merchants and glancing into alleys.
His heart felt almost light for once—no combat, no confrontation, just footsteps echoing against stone as the timer ticked away in the back of his mind.
But then, just as he rounded a corner near the center of the market, the murmurs struck him.
A current of sound and voices were tight with fear, people whispering, drawing back, their eyes fixated on something ahead.
Zhen felt it instantly.
His body reacted instinctively—his stride sharpened, his senses stretched, and before he knew it, his feet carried him toward the disturbance.
Before him, a scene unfolded in an instant.
A cultivator stood arrogantly, his body relaxed, posture exuding superiority as though the very ground bent beneath him.
Before him, a man knelt, clutching a bundle of cloth in shaking hands, his head lowered so far that his forehead scraped the dirt.
The bystander's voice trembled as he pleaded, words spilling like water from a broken jar.
"I—I made a mistake, honored one. Forgive me, I beg of you. I didn't see you, I bumped into you—please, I apologize!"
Zhen's eyes narrowed. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his tone cutting through the frightened murmur of the onlookers.
"What's going on here?"
The bystander's head snapped up, his eyes wide, desperation written in every line of his face. When he saw Zhen, hope flickered weakly in those terrified eyes, as though he had glimpsed light through a storm.
"Esteemed sir!" the man cried. "I—I offended him. I—I only brushed against his arm! I apologized, I swear! I apologized again and again, please—forgive me!"
Zhen inhaled slowly, steadying his voice. His gaze swept across the crowd, then fixed firmly on the man kneeling before him.
"Do not be afraid," he said, his tone steady, calm, and firm. "I am an Immortal Police."
The words struck the crowd like a thunderclap.
Confusion rippled through them, their whispers swelling.
"Police? What is that?"
"Immortal Police? What does he mean?"
Zhen stood tall. His eyes locked onto the trembling bystander, but his voice carried to everyone within earshot.
"The Immortal Police is not bound by mortal prejudice or cultivator arrogance. My duty is to uphold fairness, to guard mortals and cultivators alike, and to ensure that neither side oppresses the other.
"In this town, justice shall not bow to strength alone. Mortals deserve safety, cultivators deserve respect, and those who cross the line shall answer for it. That is my role—this is what it means to be Immortal Police."
His words flowed like a tide, each sentence measured yet carrying weight.
"No man, no matter how weak, shall live in fear of being trampled. No cultivator, no matter how high, shall believe themselves above consequence. Here, fairness shall bind us all."
The whispers turned into sharp intakes of breath, spreading outward like fire on dry grass.
"Fairness? He speaks of fairness…"
"Justice for mortals? Such a thing has never been…"
"Can this be true? Or is he merely boasting?"
"Immortal Police… the protector of both weak and strong…"
The concept stunned them.
In a world where power dictated law and cultivators stood like gods above mortals, the very idea of someone standing impartially between them was revolutionary.
Zhen turned back to the bystander, softening his voice, his tone almost brotherly.
"Do not fear. Speak plainly. Just explain the truth, and I shall judge who is in the wrong. You will not be punished for honesty."
But the man trembled, his lips quivering. He opened his mouth, looked at the cultivator standing in front of him, then closed it again. His eyes darted toward the cultivator, then back to Zhen, then down to the dirt. He shook his sweating head violently.
"I… I… I cannot…"
"Speak," Zhen urged, calm yet firm. "You have nothing to fear."
Still, the man could not. His shoulders hunched, his body trembling, lips moving without sound.
Meanwhile, the cultivator and his companion stood silently, watching, their expressions unreadable.
Zhen's eyes lingered on the kneeling figure for a long moment. Then, with a faint sigh, he straightened. His gaze swept once more between the silent cultivator and the broken mortal.
"Very well," Zhen said finally, his voice even. "If there is nothing further, I shall take my leave."
The whispers swelled again as he turned and began to walk away.
"Leave? Just like that?"
"But he… he called himself police…"
"Is this really justice? Or merely words?"
"He… he dared to speak against cultivators… yet he leaves unharmed?"
Zhen ignored them, his steps measured, his back straight. He had taken only five paces when a sharp and clear voice rang out behind him.
"It was me."
Zhen froze mid-step.
Slowly, he turned his head, his eyes narrowed towards the sound. His gaze fell upon the arrogant cultivator, who now stood with a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Zhen let his senses expand, feeling the man's cultivation. His stomach sank slightly. Third stage Body Refinement. But he only took level one mission. Why this bastard in the third stage?
His thoughts churned quickly. What does this fool want? Don't tell me…
As if confirming his fears, the cultivator tilted his chin upward, voice dripping with disdain.
"This mortal dared to offend me," he declared arrogantly. "He touched me, brushed against me like some filthy insect daring to crawl across a god. He begged, yes, but apologies cannot erase insult. Mortals are ants—less than ants. Even the air they breathe offends me. And this one… this worm dared to pollute my robe with his touch. Such insolence cannot be forgiven."
His words stretched on, each dripping with intense animosity, each aimed not only at the bystander but at every mortal who trembled nearby. He mocked their weakness, their insignificance, their pitiful existence in a world ruled by cultivators.
The mortal's face drained of color, his legs giving out completely. He fell into full kowtow, forehead slamming against the ground.
"Forgive me! Esteemed one, forgive me!" he cried, his voice hoarse with terror. "I swear upon my ancestors, I did not mean it! I was carrying cloth, I stumbled—I did not see! I would never dare touch an immortal, never! It was a mistake, an accident!" He kowtowed again, and again, forehead bleeding from repeated impacts. "Please, spare me! Have mercy!"
The cultivator sneered, cutting him off with a bark of laughter.
"Bullshit! You mortals are filth! Do you think your groveling makes a difference? Even breathing the same air as me is an offense! You are worms, nothing more! And you, so-called Immortal Police—" his chin jerked toward Zhen, his voice rising, "—what can you do about it?"
Zhen's jaw tightened.
Inside, his frustration flared. He had chosen the simplest mission, expecting nothing more than a quiet patrol. Yet here he was, facing a stage three Body Refinement cultivator, arrogant and cruel. If this is the test for the lowest mission, he thought grimly, then what monsters would I face at the fifth? A stage ten Body Refinement? Perhaps worse…
He muttered under his breath, "Fortunately, I chose level one… this much, at least, is still manageable."
Then, straightening, Zhen raised his hand, his voice resonating with authority.
"You have committed grave offenses!"
The cultivator's smirk faltered slightly, but Zhen pressed on, his words striking like hammers against stone.
"First—Assault! The intent to harm this frail bystander, especially with the use of spiritual Qi, constitutes assault."
"Second—Intimidation! Your behavior, mocking and threatening to kill him, is intimidation of the highest order."
"Third—Public Disturbance! Your loud and aggressive actions have disrupted this marketplace, spreading fear among innocent people."
"Fourth—Abuse of Power! As a cultivator, you wield strength, but you use it to trample mortals instead of protect them. This is a shame to your cultivation and a disgrace to your path."
"And finally—daring to challenge an officer of the law means daring to challenge the law itself!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Some covered their mouths.
Others leaned forward, hearts pounding at words they had never thought they'd hear spoken aloud.
But the cultivator only smirked, arrogance returning in full. His body glowed suddenly, spiritual Qi flaring intensely. Then, in a flash, he vanished from his place.