"Why are we camped so far away from the village?" she finally asked, her tone laced with mild irritation.
The lead captain , a Soul King in his late thirties, with a scar running across his jaw — stepped forward and saluted. He was the highest-ranked officer present besides the Soul Sages who were out on patrol.
"Reporting to Young Master," he said, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "The villagers… refused to let us set camp near their homes."
Qian Renxue's brows arched in disbelief. "Refused?"
He swallowed hard and nodded.
A faint smile, cold and disbelieving, tugged at her lips. "Weren't those same villagers the ones we saved from the evil soul masters? We risked our lives and resources to protect them — and now they deny us a place to rest?" Her voice carried enough pressure that the nearby soldiers felt the air grow heavier.
A chilling silence followed
Qian Renxue's expression turned unreadable. For a long moment, she said nothing, her eyes glinting faintly under the fading light. Inside her, a wave of disdain rose — not at the villagers' fear, but at their hypocrisy.
Then, aloud, she said simply, "Forget it. I will ask the villagers myself."
The captain paled. "Young Master, they—"
She raised her hand, silencing him. "It's fine. I want to hear their reason… from their own mouths."
Her tone was calm, but there was a quiet force behind it — the kind that made even seasoned warriors step aside without a word.
As she walked past the rows of tents toward the dim lights of the village, her golden hair caught the dying rays of the sun, shimmering like a fading halo. Behind her, the soldiers straightened unconsciously, watching her back as if they were seeing a goddess descend to judge mortals.
---
After running for nearly fifteen minutes, the night wind cutting through her hair, Qian Renxue finally reached the outskirts of the village. With a soul master's physique, such distance was nothing; her breathing remained steady, her golden hair fluttering behind her like a banner of light in the dusk.
Behind her followed the Soul King captain and several other Soul Kings from the Angel Corps, their armor gleaming faintly under the moonlight. The faint smell of earth, smoke, and grain filled the air as they slowed down near the village entrance.
What greeted her was not the expected sight of grateful villagers, but an awkward scene. The village elder was standing at the gates, his posture bent slightly as he spoke to a man dressed in richly embroidered robes. Another person — a thin clerk with ink-stained fingers — was busily scribbling something in a ledger beside them.
The elder turned at the sound of footsteps. His wrinkled face lit up with forced politeness as he hurried forward, bowing low."Dear, noble soul masters from Spirit Hall," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "thank you once again for helping us eradicate those evil soul masters."
Qian Renxue's gaze was calm, unreadable. She didn't return the greeting. Her eyes shifted to the man in the fine clothes, whose every movement screamed arrogance and self-importance. The gold thread on his cuffs caught the moonlight, glinting with the kind of luxury that never belonged in a humble village like this.
"Who is he?" Qian Renxue asked coldly, pointing toward the man.
The elder stiffened under her gaze. "He… He is Lord Gary, the tax collector appointed by the Lord Baron of this land."
At the mention of his name, Gary finally raised his head, revealing a sharp, narrow face twisted with disdain. He eyed Qian Renxue and her followers — the Spirit Hall insignia on their cloaks — and then smirked, as if already unimpressed.
"Oh? So these are the noble soul masters," he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Then, turning back to the elder, he said in a mocking tone, "It seems you've been sharing your harvest with them, Elder. That would explain why your taxes are so low this season."
The village elder's face went pale as he waved his hands frantically. "N-no, Lord Gary! We didn't— We hardly produced enough this year! The harvest was poor, and what little we had, we already gave you!"
Gary made a show of sighing, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. "Excuses, excuses. Every year it's the same story. If not drought, then bandits. If not bandits, then 'evil soul masters.' How convenient." He looked over the villagers with contempt. "I'll be inspecting your storage again tomorrow. I suspect you've been hiding reserves."
Qian Renxue's expression darkened slightly, her eyes narrowing. Her voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undertone as she asked, "And what does that have to do with Spirit Hall's soldiers camping outside the village?"
Gary turned his gaze toward her and chuckled arrogantly. "Everything, Lady Soul Master. Your presence here encourages the villagers to believe they can defy their taxes and offer their grain elsewhere — perhaps to you?" His smile was poisonous. "I am only doing my duty for the empire. Taxes are not optional."
The village elder, caught between the two powers, looked ready to collapse. "Please, both of you— we mean no disrespect to Spirit Hall nor to Lord Gary!"
Qian Renxue's gaze swept past the two men toward the village square — where she caught sight of what they claimed not to have: heaps of freshly stored grain covered by tarps, and even a few crates of dried meat. It was enough to feed the entire platoon for months.
Her purple eyes grew cold as her thoughts sharpened. 'So this is what embarrassed the Angel Corps— being treated as beggars by those they protected.'