After leaving the Liuhe Sect, Zhao Lin went to the Kaisan Martial Arts Hall to tell Liang Song about joining the yamen as a constable.

"Your master is really resourceful, and he treats you so well!"

Liang Song said in pleasant surprise, "If I told the martial arts hall that I’d offended the Beard, they’d probably kick me out."

As he spoke, he inadvertently noticed the ten pale, bluish knuckles on the back of Zhao Lin’s hand and let out a sound of surprise. "Huh?"

"You’ve reached the Bone Training Stage?"

Zhao Lin smiled without answering.

Liang Song clicked his tongue. "Comparisons are odious. Compared to you, the other young talents in the martial arts hall are all just trash."

He finished with a sigh. "If I had your skills, I wouldn’t be afraid of failing to get my revenge."

Zhao Lin’s smile vanished, and he said seriously, "Don’t say that. Killing the Beard is my duty as well."

The two of them made their way to the county yamen. The guards at the gate had already been notified, so they let them pass directly and led the way.

Behind the main gate was a long, paved path. Passing through the ceremonial gate brought them to the yamen’s main hall.

To the left and right of the main hall were three rooms each, for a total of six doors.

The yamen was commonly known as the Six Doors, a name derived from this fact.

These six rooms were the yamen’s administrative offices, established in imitation of the central government’s Six Ministries: Personnel, Revenue, Rites, War, Justice, and Works.

Zhao Lin and Liang Song collected their uniforms from the Revenue office, along with their waist tokens, iron rulers, and ropes.

Liang Song was a constable; he wore a ginger-yellow, round-collared shirt and a round, brimless hat.

Zhao Lin was also a constable, but his uniform was a black outfit with a dark red shirt underneath and a four-cornered square hat. He looked much more imposing.

The two looked at each other, then broke into a smile.

"May I ask your surname, brother?"

After finishing the paperwork, Zhao Lin casually asked the yamen runner on the way to the constables’ office.

The runner knew they had gotten in through the Chief Registrar’s connections, so his attitude was quite polite. He smiled and said, "No need to be so formal, my surname is Zhen. I’m the third child in my family, so just call me Zhen San."

"Brother Zhen San, may I ask what the constables’ duty hours are?"

Zhao Lin hoped to have free time to practice his skills, so he was naturally concerned about the work schedule.

"Gather at dawn, dismiss at dusk, with one day off every five."

Zhen San explained as they walked, "In summer and autumn, roll call is at five in the morning, and we’re dismissed at three in the afternoon. In spring and winter, the days are shorter, so the whole schedule is shifted an hour later."

Having been in this world for over half a year, Zhao Lin had gradually grown used to the ancient units of measurement.

He understood immediately after listening. In summer and autumn, the hours were from five in the morning to three in the afternoon, while in spring and winter, it was six in the morning to four in the afternoon.

’That’s a damn early start time.’

Zhao Lin lamented silently. But then again, there weren’t many entertainment options in this era; going to bed early and waking up early was the norm.

"Is there overtime?" Zhao Lin asked.

"Overtime?" Zhen San was confused.

"It means when you’re supposed to be off duty, but you have to keep working because something came up," Zhao Lin explained in a different way.

"Ah, now I get what you mean."

Zhen San chuckled. "That sort of thing does happen. For example, if a crowd is causing trouble in our jurisdiction, or a major case occurs, you still have to handle your duties."

’Looks like you can’t escape overtime no matter where you go...’

Zhao Lin didn’t ask about overtime pay; he was sure there wasn’t any.

"This is it."

In the time it took to speak, the three of them arrived at the constables’ office on the west side of the main hall. Zhen San glanced inside.

"Chief Constable Li isn’t here. You’ll see him at roll call tomorrow morning."

After saying this, Zhen San was about to take his leave.

"Brother Zhen San, please wait a moment."

Zhao Lin handed over a piece of silver weighing over a tael and said with a smile, "We’re both just rough, simple men, unfamiliar with the yamen’s rules. We’d be grateful for any guidance you could offer."

Although Zhu Huaishan had used his connections to get him in, the favor from the Chief Registrar ended there. From now on, whether he did well or poorly, there would be no one looking out for him.

Zhao Lin wasn’t looking for promotions or raises; he just wanted to spend a few years here peacefully.

But the yamen was a place of deep waters. Just wanting a peaceful life wouldn’t be easy. It would be best to have someone who knew the inside story to give him some pointers.

Zhen San might just be a yamen runner who guarded the gate, but often, it was people like him who knew the most.

"Constable Zhao, you’re too kind."

Zhen San quickly accepted the silver, tucking it into his sleeve and weighing it in his hand, a satisfied look appearing on his face.

"Since you’re new and completely in the dark, I’ll tell you a few things."

He led the two of them to a secluded pillar in the corridor and explained everything in great detail—the constables’ duties and responsibilities, the organizational structure, personnel arrangements, and so on.

He spoke for over an hour, not stopping until the sun had set.

"Thank you, Brother Zhen San."

’That tael of silver wasn’t spent in vain,’ Zhao Lin thought to himself. He now had a general understanding of the constable profession.

By now, most of the people in the yamen had left. Zhao Lin and Liang Song went out for a meal and then returned to the constables’ office.

The constables’ office was where the constables worked, and it also served as a temporary resting place.

The room was quite spacious, large enough to hold at least a hundred people. To the north of the entrance were a few desks, seven or eight long benches were placed in the middle, and against the western wall were two raised, heated platforms made of earth.

The platforms were covered with straw mats, perfect for sleeping.

It was still early, so Zhao Lin and Liang Song practiced the breathing techniques of the Six-Syllable Mantra.

To avoid disturbing anyone, they only exhaled, making no sound.

Before the sky turned completely dark, the two drew water from the well in the small courtyard out front, washed up simply, and prepared to rest.

"My luck was incredible tonight! If I didn’t have to come for the night watch, I could’ve won another seven or eight taels, no problem."

"Stop bragging. Don’t you always win at first and then lose it all, crawling out with nothing but your shorts?"

"Why’s your mouth so foul, you bastard? Did you drink too much cheap wine at the brothel just now?"

"Quit arguing, someone might hear you gossiping..."

Zhao Lin’s hearing was exceptional. He heard people talking from the direction of the yamen gate, and the voices were getting closer.

’One, two, three... four, five, six.’

Based on the footsteps, he determined that a group of six people was approaching.

A moment later, six constables walked into the room, talking and laughing.

Seeing Zhao Lin and Liang Song, the men all froze for a second.

"You’re... the new guys?"

The one who spoke was a man in his forties, dressed as a constable of rank. He had the same pale, bluish marks on his knuckles, meaning his cultivation was at least at the Bone Training Stage.

"We are." Zhao Lin and Liang Song stood up and cupped their fists in salute at the same time.

Zhen San had told them that the yamen arranged for a night patrol every evening. These men were probably here to rest before their rounds.

When the middle-aged constable saw someone as young as Zhao Lin wearing the uniform of a higher-ranking constable, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He just grunted, "Oh," found a bench to sit on, and ignored the two of them.

"Do you know where they came from?"

"No idea."

"Hanging around the yamen at this hour... probably just here to collect a salary for a no-show job."

"Hmph, the kid’s still wet behind the ears and he’s already a constable in charge. Is there any fucking justice in this world...?"

The constables whispered among themselves, thinking Zhao Lin couldn’t hear them, but they had no idea he had silently released an ultrasonic wave and heard every word of their conversation clearly.

Zhao Lin glanced down at his uniform, speechless. He hadn’t expected his appointment as a leading constable to make people so jealous.

"Boss, should I go and rough up those two kids?" a constable with a voice like a quacking duck asked.

"Forget it. We don’t know their background. Don’t go looking for trouble," the middle-aged constable said, shaking his head. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

The duck-voiced constable said resentfully, "I’ve worked my ass off for over a decade, and I’m still just a regular constable. This kid doesn’t even look twenty, and he gets to walk in and be my boss. Son of a bitch."

Zhao Lin recognized the duck-like voice as one of the constables who had been talking before they entered. He was unimpressed.

’A "good" constable who eats, drinks, whores, and gambles?’

At the same time, he secretly warned himself that his days ahead probably wouldn’t be so easy.

Before long, the watchman’s clapper sounded the second watch. The middle-aged constable led his subordinates out of the constables’ office.

Zhao Lin and Liang Song unrolled their bed mats and lay down in their clothes, sleeping soundly until the sky brightened at dawn.