In a high-level martial arts game, a wife is given to you at the start.

"A full investigation?" Lin Qiye finally spoke, his voice so flat it betrayed no emotion. "Regarding Chairman Luo Song's case last time, Chief Shangguan already stated personally that the residual energy in the crystal core fragments proved my words were true. What else needs to be investigated?"

Tie Hu's expression stiffened slightly, but he quickly regained his composure and his tone became firmer: "Deacon Lin, I am merely an executor of the orders from Commander-in-Chief Mo Shan. Please do not make things difficult for me."

"What if I really have to leave?"

Upon hearing this, the thirty black-armored soldiers behind Tie Hu gripped their weapons tightly, and a tense atmosphere filled the air. Tie Hu's gaze sharpened, and his right hand slowly gripped the hilt of his sword: "Steward Lin, then don't blame this humble general for being impolite."

Lin Qiye did not move, but stood quietly in place.

Luo Sheng, Shuang'er, Man Ji, and Qing Yin behind him remained motionless. They held their children, standing behind Lin Qiye with calm expressions, as if watching a play that had nothing to do with them.

This calm, however, made Tie Hu feel uneasy.

He had seen too many people show panic, anger, and fear when faced with the encirclement of the combat department, but he had never seen anyone like Lin Qiye—facing thirty fully armed black-armored soldiers, facing the threat of him, a high-ranking deacon, he acted as if he were facing a group of ants blocking his way, without even blinking an eye.

"Steward Lin, since that's the case, then I'll have to offend you." Tie Hu drew his broadsword from his waist, the blade gleaming coldly in the afternoon sun. He took a step forward and shouted sharply, "All soldiers, listen to my command! Surround Lin Qiye and his family! Do not let a single one escape!"

Thirty black-armored soldiers moved simultaneously, quickly spreading out to form a semi-circular encirclement, completely blocking Lin Qiye and his group's path. The sound of crossbows being cocked was particularly jarring in the quiet street, and the arrows all pointed towards Lin Qiye's location.

Lin Qiye remained motionless.

He simply raised his right hand, palm up, fingers slightly spread.

A dark golden rune slowly condensed and took shape in his palm. The rune was only the size of a fingernail, yet it exuded a chilling sense of oppression, as if the weight of an entire mountain had been compressed into a tiny point of light.

A dark golden light spread from the runes, like a miniature sun, still dazzlingly bright even in the afternoon sunlight. The thirty black-armored soldiers simultaneously let out a muffled groan the moment the light touched their bodies. Their crossbows fell from their hands and to the ground. It was as if something had pressed down on their shoulders, causing their legs to buckle involuntarily, until they finally knelt on one knee, unable to even lift their heads.

Tie Hu stood at the very front, bearing the greatest pressure, but he forcibly supported his body, refusing to kneel down. His legs were trembling violently, the veins on his forehead were bulging, and the knuckles of his fingers gripping his battle sword were white, but he still gritted his teeth and stubbornly refused to kneel down.

"Lin Qiye—you—" he squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse and strained.

The light from the rune in Lin Qiye's palm shone even brighter.

Tie Hu's body jolted violently. His knees finally gave way under the invisible pressure, and he collapsed to his knees with a thud. The battle sword slipped from his hand and fell with a crisp clang. He knelt on the ground, his hands bracing against the earth, panting heavily. Cold sweat trickled down his face, dripping onto the gray stone pavement and leaving dark stains.

The thirty black-armored soldiers behind him had all knelt on the ground, none of them able to stand up.

Lin Qiye withdrew his hand, the rune in his palm slowly dissipating, and the dark golden light also subsided. He looked down at Tie Hu kneeling on the ground, his voice calm and undisturbed: "Go back and tell Commander-in-Chief Moshan that I, Lin Qiye, am not a deserter, but merely leaving with my family for a period of time. If the arena needs me, I will return."

He paused, then added, "But if you try to stop me again, next time it won't be as simple as just kneeling down."

After saying that, he didn't look at Tie Hu again, turned around, and continued walking towards the North Gate.

The procession behind him followed his steps, the fish passing through the thirty kneeling black-armored soldiers, through the heavy city gate of the North Gate, and disappearing into the afternoon sunlight.

Tie Hu knelt on the ground with his head down. Only when the footsteps of Lin Qiye and his group completely disappeared outside the city gate did he slowly raise his head and look at the departing figure, his eyes filled with complex and indescribable emotions.

A black-armored soldier behind him struggled to his feet, his voice trembling slightly: "Deputy Captain Tie, should we... give chase?"

Tie Hu suddenly turned his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the soldier, and then suddenly raised his hand and slapped the soldier hard across the face.

*Smack!*

The crisp sound of a slap echoed across the empty square. The soldier was sent spinning on the spot before crashing heavily to the ground, a trickle of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth, and half his face swelled up visibly. He lay on the ground, covering his face, his eyes filled with terror and grievance, but he dared not utter a single word.

"Chase him? What are you going to do about it?" Tie Hu's voice was low and hoarse, as if squeezed out from between his teeth. "Didn't you see what he did just now? There were thirty of us, and we didn't even touch the hem of his clothes before he forced us to our knees, unable to lift our heads! What are you going to do if you chase after him? Are you going to your death?"

He stood up, brushed the dust off his knees, and glanced at the soldiers around him who had also just gotten up from the ground. His voice was as cold as the metal of a winter's day: "Fall back! Report back to Commander-in-Chief Moshan!"

He bent down to pick up the broadsword that had fallen to the ground, sheathed it at his waist, turned and strode into the city, never looking back at the now empty city gate.

Meanwhile, at the headquarters of the Arena Inspection Bureau, in the highest-level conference room.

Shangguan Lin sat at the head of the round table, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface, a rhythm a little faster than usual. Before him lay an urgent message that had just arrived—Tie Hu's interception had failed, and Lin Qiye had led his family through the North Gate, leaving the arena's sphere of influence.

The seven people present at this moment—Shangguan Lin, Mo Shan, Tie Lan, Su Yi, and three other high-ranking officials from the Oversight Council and the Combat Department—had all finished reading the contents of the message.

The meeting room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Mo Shan sat to Shangguan Lin's right, his face ashen, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrest, as if he wanted to crush the sandalwood armrest. When he heard the news that Tie Hu's men had been suppressed by Lin Qiye in one move and that all thirty black-armored soldiers had knelt down and could not get up, he felt as if he had been slapped hard across the face. The humiliation he felt was ten times stronger than when he was wounded by the enemy on the battlefield.