The magistrate stood on the high dais, a crimson robe draped over armor that glinted like frozen blood. He blinked, unhurried, before a coarse guffaw ripped from his throat. The sound scraped against the stillness of the plaza, echoing off the massive, gilded columns. “Workplace safety codes?” he bellowed, his voice thick with incredulity, leveling a gaunt knuckle at Kou Nanshan. “A mere infirmary attendant dares lecture the Heavenly Tribunals on *bylaws*? Is this a jape, a final, pathetic attempt to save your demonic apprentice?”
His laughter died as Kou Nanshan tilted his head. “The efficacy of a system is defined by its adherence to established protocols, magistrate,” Kou stated, his voice level. “Failure to maintain a safe and nurturing environment for all staff, including apprentices, leads directly to burnout, reduced productivity, and, in severe cases, the unintended activation of defense mechanisms that may be perceived as ‘demonic’ by the untrained eye. This is basic organizational psychology.”
“Organizational… what?” the magistrate spluttered, his cheeks mottling purple. “This is an execution plaza, not a re-education camp! Guards! Seize this insolent fool! Bring me the masters of the Crystalline Peaks to put an end to this farce!”
From the ranks of armored guards, three figures stepped forward. Their robes, woven from threads that glittered with captured starlight, marked them as senior cultivators, their features etched with centuries of rigorous suppression: First Elder Mu, Second Elder Lin, and Third Elder Ba. Their presence caused the air to thicken, crackling with restrained force. They did not speak, fixing on Kou Nanshan an austere glare.
Kou Nanshan observed them, his placid expression never wavering. He noted their rigid postures, the subtle tremor in their spiritual fields, and the way their glances flicked toward the high dais for silent approval. He exhaled a faint cloud of steam into the chilly air. “Ah,” he murmured, less to them and more to himself. “Severe avoidant attachment styles. A classic defense against perceived emotional vulnerability, manifesting as aggressive, overcompensatory martial displays. Clipboards and tea won’t cut through that.”
Elder Mu, whose every stride was sharp as a winter gale, launched the first attack. Her 'Glacial Gale-Blade' materialized as an arc of ice-cold energy vast enough to shear a hill in two, screaming straight toward Kou Nanshan’s chest. Before the arc could land, Elder Lin unleashed her 'Verdant-Coil Suppress-Fist,' a dense orb of emerald pressure aimed at his sternum. Simultaneously, Elder Ba, a massive warrior whose meridians hummed with raw force, brought down his 'Sky-Rending Cleaver-Fall,' a colossal spectral maul vibrating with seismic shock.
Any one of these attacks would have pulverized an ordinary adept. Combined, they shook the stone beneath their boots. The guards leaned away, while the presiding magistrate bared his teeth in anticipation.
Kou Nanshan remained motionless. When the Glacial Gale-Blade reached three inches from his coat, his right forefinger tapped the crest of the crescent. The mountain-cleaving force bent backward against itself, flowing around his skin before dispersing into a light frost.
His left thumb rose to meet the Verdant-Coil Suppress-Fist. The emerald orb met the pad of his skin with a muffled pop. It shrank instantly to the size of a pine needle, then vanished. Kou Nanshan flicked his wrist as though brushing away a loose thread.
Finally, the maul fell from above. Kou Nanshan glanced upward, brows drawing together. He did not raise a hand or shift his stance. The ethereal weight shuddered mid-plunge, split down the center with a dry crack, and dissolved into harmless motes.
Elders Mu, Lin, and Ba halted in place, mouths agape. Their signatures, forged over centuries, had collapsed on simple contact.
“You see?” Kou Nanshan remarked gently. “Such overt displays of force are classic distress signals, magistrate. A desperate attempt to assert control over deep-seated inadequacy. Elder Mu, your blade technique carries excessive kinetic spill, suggesting unresolved internal turbulence. Elder Lin, the suppressive orb projects unacknowledged grief outward. And Elder Ba, your maul… frankly, it reads as textbook overcompensation.”
He surveyed the trio with calm evaluation. The bronze pen between his knuckles rotated once. Elder Mu’s scabbarded heirloom saber vibrated violently. A fissure raced up the folded steel, and the metal shattered into pale dust, leaving her clutching an empty hilt.
Elder Lin’s spirit whip unraveled into dull hemp fibers, dropping limp into her grip. Elder Ba’s heavy iron pole snapped across the midpoint, clattering against the paving stones.
“Now, for the somatic intervention,” Kou Nanshan continued, taking two methodical steps forward. The three veterans stepped back, their complexions draining pale. “I am prescribing bed rest for all three of you, followed by guided meditation. You are carrying far too much somatic armor.”
Kou stepped inside their reach and delivered three clipped kicks. They lacked visible wind or aura, yet bypassed core defensive seals to tap three vital acupuncture hubs. Elder Mu sailed backward across the flagstones, sliding unconscious against the courtyard balustrade. Lin and Ba followed in smooth arcs, coming to rest beside her in limp heaps.
The magistrate backed against his high chair, trembling. A third-rate infirmary worker had just disarmed and subdued three revered champions with light taps and posture corrections. Cold dread took root in his chest.
“The defensive grand array!” the magistrate shrieked, striking the jade armrest. The entire courtyard shuddered. Inlaid copper glyphs flared to life across the paving and up the pillars. Spectral phantoms took shape from the rising smoke—ten-foot avatars of ancient sect founders brandishing ethereal halberds to protect the grounds.