It had been a long time since Town Chief Jiang left the crowd. Yi Aimin waited patiently there. Knowing he’d miss lunch, he sent a constable to inform Yi Xiuran and his mother.

Only after Town Chief Jiang announced he’d personally cover all schoolhouse repair costs did the crowd slowly disperse. He immediately spotted Yi Aimin lingering on the outskirts, watching the commotion.

"You, Venerable Just Judge, are enjoying leisure time," Town Chief Jiang chuckled. "You didn’t help me persuade these folks. With your eloquence, a few words would’ve made them spare me."

"That’d only make me the next you," Yi Aimin replied, cupping his hands. "I lack our esteemed Town Chief Jiang’s boundless energy." He glanced at the schoolhouse ruins, just as Yi Xiuran had that morning. "But Huor’s cannon talent truly surprised me. Won’t you send him to the Celestial Mechanism Camp? Even without the War God Imprint, being a Fire Cannon Workshop engineer is highly respected today."

"I..." Town Chief Jiang paused, taken aback. "Aimin, you know Huor’s origins. Kacha Keer entrusted him to me with strict orders: never let Huor enter officialdom. It’d harm him."

"Wasting such talent feels criminal," Yi Aimin sighed. "Must Kacha Keer sever her son’s entire life just because she cut his cultivation path?"

"Their union was never accepted," Town Chief Jiang said, looking up. "If Imperial Capital elites learn Huor’s origins, they’ll hunt him. Letting him live peacefully here in Spirit Martial Town is best. He’s happy. With me as his father and you as his uncle, why not?"

"You’re optimistic. What does Huor say? Won’t he apply to Imperial Academy?"

"Probably not. I asked—he has no interest in the capital." Town Chief Jiang shrugged. "Not my fault; it’s his choice."

"But... after Xiuran and Meng Qi leave, won’t Huor be lonely here?"

"Lonely?" Town Chief Jiang laughed. "You overestimate him, Venerable Sir. I bet my life he’ll never feel lonely as long as he has saltpeter and sulfur."

Yi Aimin believed it. For half a year, Jiang Huoer had secluded himself developing the Redcoat Cannon, rarely contacting Xiuran or Meng Qi. Unless they sought him out, he wouldn’t even visit. He’d skip classes daily to stay at the blacksmith’s shop.

"You’ve let him skip classes counting on that," Yi Aimin said, pointing at the town chief. "You, you..."

"Kacha Keer was right. I’ll follow her life plan for Huor. If I disagreed, I wouldn’t do this."

"Fine, fine. As his father, your word stands. I’ll head back—missing lunch worried Xiuran and his mother. I must join my wife and son for dinner."

"Safe travels," Town Chief Jiang said, cupping his hands.

By dusk, Yi Aimin returned to the yamen. From the street corner, he saw rows of people seated outside. Rubbing his eyes, he confirmed it wasn’t a mirage. Spirit Martial Town’s yamen hadn’t heard grievances in years—yet today, a massive crowd gathered to petition.

Panicked, Yi Aimin sprinted over, fearing a town-wide brawl.

"What’s this about? What grievances at this hour? Shouldn’t you all be cooking dinner?" he asked.

"Venerable Just Judge, we accuse Jiang Huoer!"

"Yes! Jiang Huoer!"

"If he keeps this up, he’ll blow Spirit Martial Town sky-high! We accuse Jiang Huoer!"

Voices erupted chaotically.

"But... Town Chief Jiang covered all repair costs. What more do you want?"

"Venerable Just Judge, Imperial Capital officials arrive next week for interviews! If Jiang Huoer fires a cannonball and injures—or kills—them, who takes responsibility? Our sons and daughters count on those interviews to change their fates. We can’t let Jiang Huoer ruin it!"

"Right! Don’t let him ruin it!" others echoed.

"Don’t worry, I’ll speak to the town chief. Jiang Huoer won’t appear that day. Trust me."

"No! Venerable Just Judge, you can’t guarantee he’ll obey. That boy’s full of tricks—you know it. What if he sneaks out to fire a shot?"

"Exactly! Unacceptable!"

Yi Aimin had never seen Spirit Martial Town’s people so united.

"Then... what solution do you propose?" he asked carefully. Only their own demands would satisfy them.

"Expel Jiang Huoer from Spirit Martial Town!"

"Yes! Expel him!"

"Expel him! Expel him!"

Yi Aimin’s heart raced with cold sweat. They couldn’t just exile him—he was the town chief’s son. Were they mad?

"Friends, isn’t this excessive? I dislike Jiang Huoer’s mischief too, but remember—he’s helped us all. We’ve watched him grow up. Many see him as a half-son. How would he feel hearing this?"

Silence fell. Yi Aimin always struck a chord.

"At least... keep Jiang Huoer out of Spirit Martial Town during the Imperial Capital officials’ visit," said Boss Qian, owner of the town’s largest gambling den. "Venerable Just Judge, we accept your words. We do see Huor as our child. But he won’t go to the capital—our children will. We can’t risk it. At minimum, he must leave town that week. That’s our lowest demand."

As the wealthiest man, Boss Qian’s words carried weight. The crowd nodded. Yi Aimin lowered his head, thinking. He trusted Jiang Huoer wouldn’t cause trouble then—the boy was mischievous but sensible. Yet they didn’t believe it. Boss Qian’s condition was indeed minimal.

"Do you all agree to Boss Qian’s terms?" Yi Aimin asked.

"Agreed!" they chorused.

"Very well. I’ll discuss this with the town chief." Yi Aimin cupped his hands. "Trust me—I keep my promises. It’s late; please return home."

Slowly, the crowd dispersed.

"First they hassle Old Jiang, now me..." He turned into the yamen. Handling Jiang Huoer’s exile required the town chief’s input. "This won’t be easy," he muttered.

Jiang Huoer returned to Jiang Mansion, covered in dust and grime. Madam Jiang had prepared hot water for his bath. The sandalwood tub, warmed by the water, emitted a faint, pleasant aroma.

"Young master, you’re amazing! One cannon blast collapsed the schoolhouse!" His personal scribe, also his errand-runner, assisted with the bath.

"That’s not impressive," Jiang Huoer said, ducking his head as the scribe poured warm water over his scalp. "It worked, but it’s crude. I remember the Redcoat Cannon’s power from when I was three—I know true might. This one’s lacking."

"But yours beats the Divine Mechanism Arrow!" The scribe’s steady pouring felt soothing.

"Of course. Divine Mechanism Arrows just strap light explosive bombs to special arrows—low skill. Cannons demand real craftsmanship." Jiang Huoer exposed his back for scrubbing.

"Your back is filthy..." The scribe scraped off thick grime.

"Well... I haven’t bathed in over half a year." This was Jiang Huoer’s first home visit since starting the Redcoat Cannon project. He ate, slept, and lived at the workshop.

"You endure life without servants..." The scribe scrubbed harder as more ash surfaced.

"I’m not helpless. Cooking rice or bedding down on straw—I manage." Jiang Huoer grinned sheepishly. "Oh, I have something to show you. My secret weapon."

"Secret weapon?"

"Yeah. Cannons have limited angles—good for upward shots, bad for downward. My weapon drops bombs from high altitude for perfect straight-down explosions." Jiang Huoer smirked slyly. "I don’t show it to anyone. Want a peek?"

"You said not to show it. I won’t look." The scribe poured another ladle of water over Kongming’s back, washing away grime.

"I’ll show you if you want," Jiang Huoer offered.

"You clearly want to show it. Stop pretending." The scribe scoffed. "A secret weapon should stay secret. Grow up, young master."