“A promising young man!”

Benjamin Thompson stroked his long beard, looking even more satisfied. “Actually, these moves can be varied, but since your current level isn’t high enough, it’s best to stick to the basics for now. After all, these are the secret techniques our Li clan has studied for hundreds of years. Every palm and every stance has been honed to perfection—at least for anyone below the Sixth Floor Realm.”

“How about trying another palm? I feel like I just grasped something, maybe related to intent and momentum, but I haven’t quite managed to get a hold of it.” Henry Thompson raised his hand, looking at his elder brother with great enthusiasm. Then, to his surprise, he noticed a hint of panic and resistance on his brother’s face.

“You can try again tomorrow!” Benjamin Thompson let out a light cough. “Tomorrow I’ll have someone prepare some better-quality wooden dummies for you.”

Henry Thompson felt a bit disappointed, but didn’t insist. Afterward, he asked Benjamin Thompson quite a few more questions, and it wasn’t until just before the third quarter of the Mao hour that he reluctantly left the residence.

But right after Henry Thompson left the training ground, Benjamin Thompson turned to his eldest son with a serious expression. “What happened? Xuan’er’s Ice Palm was actually able to freeze you?”

“It really did freeze me.”

William Thompson spat out a mouthful of ice shards, then his whole body seemed to ignite like fire, steaming with thick mist. “At first, I was careless and caught off guard—the cold from his palm went straight to my core. Then, not wanting to lose face, I tried to tough it out. By then, half my internal organs were already frozen, and I couldn’t even circulate my qi. I basically took his second palm head-on.”

His expression was helpless, a bit annoyed, and also somewhat incredulous. “But that cold force is really powerful, and its penetration is amazing! If a martial artist at the fourth or fifth floor isn’t prepared, they’d be frozen by his first strike. I have no idea how he trained it—could he really be that gifted?”

Chapter 12: Commandant Charles Harris

After arriving at Vermilion Bird Hall, the first thing Henry Thompson did was report to Grace Johnson’s office.

When he first transmigrated here, he’d actually considered giving up his post in the Six Paths Division. As a modern person, he had plenty of money-making ideas and could easily become a wealthy second-generation official.

But his experience at Lanyue Tower, and Benjamin Thompson’s loss of office, changed his mind. Henry Thompson had realized that this was a world where immortal arts were real, and official rank was everything.

Money was useful, of course, but in this world, there were many things money simply couldn’t buy.

However, just as he was about to push open the door, he discovered that someone inside was being scolded by Grace Johnson like a grandson.

“In short, if I ever find out you’re covering for Henry Thompson again, just wait to be exiled to the southern frontier! Charles Harris, do you believe I’ll make you stay there until you’re old and never come back?”

Henry Thompson glanced at the man and saw a burly, well-built young man who was already balding.

What was surprising was his appearance: besides wearing armor covered in demonic patterns and a long saber at his waist—a standard Six Paths Division outfit—he also carried twelve spears on his back, fanned out like a peacock’s tail.

Henry Thompson felt guilty as soon as he saw him. This man was Charles Harris, a veteran “Demon-Subduing Commandant,” Grace Johnson’s most capable assistant, and also Henry Thompson’s direct superior, holding a sixth-rank official post.

The reason Henry Thompson’s predecessor had such an easy time during his two years in the Six Paths Division was largely thanks to Charles Harris. Not only did he handle Henry Thompson’s daily attendance, but he also let Henry Thompson take credit for all the cases he solved—he basically took care of everything for Henry Thompson in the division.

He even crafted an impressive résumé for Henry Thompson. If it weren’t for his own lack of cultivation, with his apparent achievements and family background, Henry Thompson might have already qualified for promotion to seventh-rank “Demon-Subduing Patrol.”

Of course, Henry Thompson’s predecessor paid a hefty price for this—at least half of his monthly expenses went to Commandant Harris.

Judging by the scene, Commandant Harris was clearly taking the blame for Henry Thompson’s unauthorized absence the previous night.

—Henry Thompson’s predecessor had never worked a night shift before; this was the first time Grace Johnson had caught him in the act.

Henry Thompson felt really sorry for him, but he was barely able to protect himself now and couldn’t help Charles Harris out of his predicament.

“I’m saying this to you as well.” Grace Johnson turned her gaze to Henry Thompson, her usually pleasant face now solemn and serious. “Remember this, Henry Thompson! Your salary comes from the people’s hard-earned taxes. If you skip work or show up late again, I’ll make sure you regret it!”

Henry Thompson could only bow in response, knowing he absolutely couldn’t talk back to this superior.

After leaving Grace Johnson’s office, Henry Thompson gave Charles Harris an apologetic bow. “I’m really sorry about this, Commandant Ma. If you’re free tonight, let me treat you to a drink to make it up to you.”

Charles Harris waved it off generously. “What’s there to apologize for? I take your money, I solve your problems. When I took your money, did I not know what kind of person you were? It was only a matter of time before you got exposed.”

But then he asked, puzzled, “But things are getting tricky now. I heard you helped her with a case yesterday? And made a big contribution? Is that true?”