High Martial: I Use Everything as Swords

"You’re the one who gets it. Sigh... You have no idea. Ever since Special Envoy Han arrived, our lives have definitely gotten more stable, but it’s also exhausting. We even have to recite those ’Three Major Disciplines’ every day."

A flicker passed through Mo the Third’s eyes as he asked with feigned casualness, "That Special Envoy Han... is he really that godly? I heard he can even kill Sea Demons?"

"Absolutely!"

The guard perked up, his face instantly flushing with fanatical adoration. He lowered his voice and said mysteriously,

"Old Mo, you didn’t see it for yourself."

"That monster, it was taller than our tallest tower!"

"Just being near it, I felt like my soul was going to be sucked right out of me!"

"But then Special Envoy Han made one sword strike."

"SLASH! And just like that, it was gone!"

Mo the Third played along, putting on a shocked expression. "Damn, that’s the work of an Immortal."

After finishing his boast, the guard patted Mo the Third’s shoulder.

"Alright, I’ve gotta get back to my patrol."

"I’ll pay you back for this later."

"No, no, don’t worry about it. Consider it a show of respect from me to you, Officer."

Once the guard was gone, the simple, honest smile on Mo the Third’s face vanished in an instant.

He looked down at the ordinary sewing needle between his fingers and gave it a light flick.

’The work of an Immortal?’

He let out a cold sneer, his voice so low only he could hear it.

"Immortals can save people, but they can’t save ghouls."

...

Night fell.

Dragon’s Fang Port fell into a post-curfew silence, the only movement the beams of searchlights sweeping across the streets.

Han Feng was still in seclusion in his underground chamber.

「Warehouse Four.」

It housed a recently arrived batch of scarce medical supplies and Spiritual Energy Blocks, and was thus a top-priority security zone.

Two young guards, Old Zhang and Xiaoli, were on night duty.

The bone-chilling sea wind whipped past the guard post with a low howl.

"This damn weather... it’s fucking cold," Xiaoli said, stomping his feet and blowing warm air into his cupped hands. "The wind’s like a knife, seeps right into your bones."

Old Zhang, however, was calm. He pulled his collar tight, his one eye narrowing as he gazed out at the churning black tide beyond the docks.

"Just hang in there. Only two more hours until the shift change. The bonus for this run is pretty substantial."

At the mention of the bonus, a rare softness appeared on Old Zhang’s weathered face.

"When I get the money, I’ll send it to my granddaughter."

"So she can buy a few more Qi Blood Potions. That girl... she’s been working so hard on her Cultivation lately, but she isn’t getting the nutrients she needs."

Xiaoli grinned. "Thinking about your granddaughter again, Uncle Zhang?"

"Yeah, how could I not?" Old Zhang pulled a faded digital photo from his coat. On it, a pretty girl with a ponytail was smiling. You could see a resemblance to a younger Old Zhang in her eyes.

"Her parents passed away young, so it was left to this old bag of bones to raise her."

"I’m just hoping she’ll make me proud, get into East Sea Martial Arts University, and then find work in the Inner City after graduation. Be someone respectable."

"It’s a damn sight better than being like me—still having to risk my neck out here by the sea at my age."

Xiaoli listened, leaning in to pat Old Zhang on the shoulder.

"Don’t you worry, Uncle Zhang!"

"Things are different now. With Special Envoy Han here, who would dare cause trouble in Dragon’s Fang Port? They wouldn’t have the guts!"

He lowered his voice, speaking with animated excitement. "Didn’t you hear what the guys from the day shift said? A few days ago, that Bald Zhao from the Mad Shark gang talked back to the Special Envoy in a meeting."

"And guess what happened?"

"The Special Envoy just gave him one look!"

"Just one!"

"And that Bald Zhao, a master at the Enlightenment Realm Peak, just dropped to his knees with a THUD! He lost control of his bowels and bladder right then and there! I hear he’s still a raving lunatic!"

Old Zhang was stunned for a second, then he too broke into a laugh, the wrinkles on his face softening.

"Yeah. With Special Envoy Han around, we’ll be safe for sure."

The light of hope rekindled in his single eye.

’I’ll definitely make it back.’

Just then, the faint sound of footsteps emerged from the darkness.

"Who’s there?!"

Both men snapped to attention, raising their Spiritual Energy Rifles and aiming them at the shadows.

"Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! It’s me."

Mo the Third emerged from the shadows, hunched over and carrying a food container.

"I saw you two officers working so hard. The missus stewed some meat, so I thought I’d bring you something warm."

Old Zhang frowned. "Old Mo, it’s past curfew. What are you doing wandering around?"

"Oh, I was just dropping some off for the patrol squad. They told me to stop by on my way," Mo the Third said, his face a mask of smiles as he casually placed the container on the table in the post.

A rich, meaty aroma instantly filled the air, making the stomachs of the two young men—who had been standing guard for half the night—grumble in protest.

Xiaoli swallowed hard. "This... this is against regulations, isn’t it?"

Mo the Third just watched them, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

Deep within his pupils, the blood-red vortex surfaced again, more profound than before.

"You two officers risk life and limb for the port. A little hot soup is the least you deserve."

His voice grew deep and magnetic, every word a hook that caught and held their attention.

The gazes of Old Zhang and Xiaoli began to grow hazy.

The vigilance on their faces unconsciously melted away, replaced by dopey grins.

In their hallucination, they were standing on an award platform at command headquarters. Special Envoy Han himself was placing medals of highest honor around their necks, while the crowd below erupted in thunderous applause and cheers.

"The good... the good days are coming..." Old Zhang mumbled, as if he could already see his granddaughter accepted into the Martial Arts University, her bright future stretching out before her.

The smile on Mo the Third’s face gradually twisted into something eerie and cruel.

He shut the door to the guard post and pulled down the blinds.

Then, he walked over to Old Zhang, extended a finger, and gently touched the center of his forehead.

"Go to sleep now, in your sweetest dream."

An invisible, blood-red thread emerged from his fingertip, piercing Old Zhang’s Sea of Consciousness and instantly detonating the deepest desires and raptures buried within him.