Chapter Eighteen: It’s Not So Bad After All

During his days as an escort, he faced all sorts of dangers. Delivering goods meant mountain bandits blocking the road; escorting people brought assassins from every corner. There was even sabotage among fellow escorts, ruthless competition at its worst. Because of this, Tiger Feather nearly died several times. The most perilous moment saw him alone against three demons of equal rank, barely surviving thanks to his extraordinary gifts.

He learned to deal with all walks of life, to call the so-called forest heroes brothers, to announce his name and offer demon silver before drawing his blade. Violence was always the last resort. The only fortune he counted was that his master, who took him on the road, treated him exceptionally well, caring for every matter and teaching him sincerely how to live and act.

Thus, five years passed in a blink. Tiger Feather was now eighteen. His physique, inherited from his tiger-blooded mother, had grown to over nine feet tall. His looks came from his crane-blooded father, striking and graceful. Only his pure black eyes set him apart from others, a visible sign of his strong crane demon lineage. Because of this, matchmakers often came to the escort agency, but his master drove them away every time.

His status had changed from a mere runner to a full escort master, able to handle jobs on his own. The set of "Six Harmonies Fist" he practiced had been slightly modified to suit his style and his demon energy. Perhaps because he possessed both heavy and light demon bloodlines, one clear and one turbid, he could control his strength expertly, lifting heavy as light and light as heavy. His punches balanced firmness and softness, switching at will, often catching opponents off guard.

It was a pity he lacked advanced techniques and martial arts, or he might have been counted among the region’s heroes. One day, his master washed his hands of the escort business, retiring for good. His master also intended to marry his youngest daughter to him. Only then did Tiger Feather understand why those matchmakers were always sent away.

On his wedding day, his master became his father-in-law, gifting him the treasured mid-grade "Eight Desolations Palm." Yet there was something Tiger Feather never dared to say: in his heart, his master was like a father. If not for him, Tiger Feather might have died on the road or lost his way to violence.

He often wondered if he had a father, perhaps he would be just like his master. Married life was happy and fulfilling; his wife was pretty, wise, and adept at managing the household. The only regret was her frail health, and they had yet to have children. In his leisure, Tiger Feather often practiced his fists and palms, suspecting a connection between "Six Harmonies Fist" and "Eight Desolations Palm," though his master insisted otherwise.

As Tiger Feather perfected his martial arts, he purchased some techniques suited to himself, supplemented by fragments he found on bandit chiefs. He aspired to create his own style, a goal mocked by everyone except his wife, who supported him thriftily. Over the next few years, his skill deepened, earning him some fame among escorts and outlaws in nearby counties.

His wife eventually bore twins—a boy with tiger demon blood, a girl with crane demon blood. With their birth, he needed to buy rare medicines to improve their talents, tightening his purse further. He could no longer afford martial arts fragments, making his dream nearly impossible.

Notably, his children’s demon blood was less potent than Tiger Feather’s, whose own blood was nearly half-demon. Only the balance of his two lineages kept him from appearing overly beastly. Sometimes he thought life could simply continue like this, and it wouldn’t be so bad.

But one day, everything changed.

On that day, Tiger Feather’s delivery required review by an official from a neighboring county. He disliked dealing with such bureaucrats—too cunning, one misstep and you’d be trapped. Yet upon seeing the visiting steward, he was stunned, unable to feel any aversion.

The steward appeared over forty, impeccably kept, not a strand of gray in his neatly combed hair. Most striking was his resemblance to Tiger Feather, almost identical, though Tiger Feather was taller and stronger. Both had pure black eyes without whites, a mark of crane demon blood at a certain level.

Four pure black eyes met; for a moment, neither knew what to say. Just then, a woman arrived, apparently the steward’s wife, bringing him lunch. Tiger Feather hurried away, embarrassed, suppressing the suspicion forming in his heart.

Recently, the county needed new constables. Many escort masters recommended Tiger Feather, even the chief encouraged him. However, his demon blood was too concentrated, and constables—minor officials—had bloodline requirements. He could never pass their tests.

Tiger Feather lived in a human fief under the rule of the Dog Kingdom, roughly the size of the Silver Prefecture in the Snake Kingdom. The lord had authority over appointments and taxes, essentially meaning the Dog Emperor granted land to humans.

The Thirty-six Nations of Qing Territory allowed each kingdom to enfeoff small states within their borders, either to guard frontiers or reward merit. For example, the Dog Kingdom included the human realm of Qingliu and Wolf Country; Tiger Kingdom governed Leopard Country and Cat Country.

Qingliu Kingdom was stringent in selecting high officials, requiring pureblood humans. If not, one had to undergo mortal trials to purge their bloodline. Lower-ranked officials faced less strict requirements, and bribery often resolved issues. Constables, though minor, held quite a status in Qingliu, unlike in Ji Xun’s previous life.

Though not officially stated, the government generally required demon blood not to exceed thirty percent. Ultimately, under his master and father-in-law’s persuasion, Tiger Feather entered the competition. He passed the martial test easily—none could withstand two of his punches. He barely managed the written test, thanks to a few years in clan school. To his surprise, the interview was smooth, and the county lord was very pleased, never mentioning his demon blood.

Three more years passed, and Tiger Feather was promoted to chief constable. With his escort reputation and new position, he became a notable figure in the county. All of this struck him as incredible.

People often brought gifts, including martial treasures and rare medicines. His wife’s health improved, his children attended the best schools, learning both martial arts and academics.

Was a constable’s status really so valuable? Or was it just luck?

Finally, at a celebration banquet, the county lord "accidentally" let slip a secret. In the neighboring county, the wealthy Crane family had a second master serving as steward. Though only a steward in name, he had long joined forces with local gentry to sideline the county lord, doing so to every new official.

It was thanks to his behind-the-scenes efforts that Tiger Feather easily became a constable and was rapidly promoted to chief. However, the Crane family’s second master and his brothers fathered over a dozen daughters but not a single son. The Crane family was on the verge of dying out; rumor had it the ninety-year-old Crane patriarch was preparing to try for an heir himself.

When the county lord mentioned this near-miss, he glanced deeply at Tiger Feather, noting how much he resembled the Crane second master.

Hearing all this, Tiger Feather was silent. It turned out those gifts were not for him, but for the Crane steward of the neighboring county—for the future master of the Crane family.