Secret Chamber Demonic Traces, Hantian's Conspiracy Partially Exposed

The candlelight flickered on the wall, casting half of a contorted face into relief.

Ji Hantian sat in a black wooden chair in the center of the secret room, his left hand clenched tightly around a jade talisman, his knuckles white. In the iron basin before him, the ashes had yet to cool, a few wisps of smoke spiraling upward like snakes being strangled by an invisible hand. The letter had already burned to nothing, only a charred edge clinging to the bottom of the basin, the faint stroke of the character "blood" just visible.

He stared at the remaining embers and suddenly laughed.

The sound was low and deep, as if squeezed from the earth's depths. He raised his right hand, palm open, revealing a short dagger. The blade was pitch-black, clearly stained with Demonic Qi. Three tiny characters, as fine as needle tips, were carved into the hilt: "Ji Wuchen."

He had carved the name himself, using a poisoned engraving tool, each stroke fueled by hatred.

"You want to investigate me?" he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Then I'll let you investigate all you want."

Footsteps sounded outside the door, incredibly light, yet they didn't escape his notice. He remained impassive, sheathing the dagger in his sleeve, leaving only a barely perceptible slit, the edge of the sleeve fabric curling slightly upward.

"My Lord, arrangements have been made," a low voice said from outside. "The treasury guards have been replaced with our men. We'll make our move at the third watch, quarter past the hour. Once the fire starts, scatter ashes in the northeast corner."

"Mm," Ji Hantian responded, standing up and walking to the bronze mirror by the wall. The mirror's surface was mottled, revealing the veins pulsing on the side of his face. He reached down and touched his left arm, where a Blood Crystal was embedded. It was faintly warm now, as if something were wriggling beneath his skin.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, his irises were blood-red.

"When the fire starts, 'find' this dagger. Remember, make sure the old steward sees it first."

"Yes."

After the person retreated, silence returned to the secret room. Ji Hantian didn't sit down; instead, he stood by the window with his hands behind his back. The rain outside had lessened, and a gap had opened in the clouds, allowing a sliver of pale moonlight to fall, landing precisely at his feet.

He looked down at the light, then suddenly lifted his foot and stomped down hard.

The night grew deeper.

In the small courtyard on the west side, I sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, my eyes slightly closed. The wind had stopped outside, the rain had ceased, and the dripping from the eaves fell intermittently, striking the stone steps like some kind of countdown.

The strand of Heaven-Slaying Origin in my palm flowed slowly, its temperature slightly higher than before. Seven strands, eight parts complete – just a sliver away from touching the threshold of the Dao Foundation. The System operated silently, absorbing the scattered Battle Intent Fragments drifting from afar – emanating from Afu.

I knew he was suffering.

Just half an hour ago, the Law Enforcement Team had stormed the woodshed and dragged him away. I didn't move. I couldn't. The System's rules were cold and clear: it would not intervene unless faced with a life-or-death crisis. Afu wasn't me; his suffering, no matter how deep, was not enough to trigger the world-reversing strike.

But I could feel it.

Every lash that fell felt like it was striking my spiritual consciousness. The anger, humiliation, and unwillingness transformed into wisps of battle intent, surging into my meridians through some hidden connection. The Heaven-Slaying Origin condensed faster because of it, almost breaking through the critical point.

I gritted my teeth, suppressing the power churning within me.

I cannot act.

Not yet, at least.

In my sleeve, that packet of medicinal powder was still there. The paper wrapper was damp, but the powder hadn't dissolved. My fingertips gently brushed against it, recalling Ye Qingwan's retreating figure, the rain sliding down the brim of her hat, wetting the stone steps.

She left this packet not for self-defense.

It was to remind me that someone was watching.

When the treasury ignited with a green flame, I opened my eyes.

The fire was unlike ordinary flames; it carried a chilling aura, burning silently yet rapidly consuming the entire row of shelves. The guards were unable to extinguish it and could only watch helplessly as medicinal herbs, pill formulas, and spirit artifact records turned to ash.

Amidst the chaos, an old steward was searching through the debris for remnants when he suddenly stopped.

He bent down and picked up a half-burnt dagger. Though the hilt was damaged, the three characters on it were still clearly visible – Ji Wuchen.

The crowd erupted in an uproar.

"It really was him?"

"No wonder he's been frequenting the treasury lately..."

"The useless young master dared to commit such a treasonous act!"

News spread like wildfire. In less than the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the entire inner courtyard of the Ji Family was abuzz with discussion. Some said I colluded with external enemies, attempting to seize power amidst the chaos; others claimed I had been possessed by the Demonic Dao long ago, feigning uselessness for three years to infiltrate.

I sat in my room, listening to the clamor outside, unmoving.

The window was half-open, and moonlight slanted in, drawing a silver line across the floor. I stared at the light until it was covered by a shadow.

The door was kicked open violently.

Three members of the Law Enforcement Team burst in, led by a burly man with a brutish face, carrying an iron chain.

"Ji Wuchen!" he roared. "The treasury caught fire, and the murder weapon bears your name! You're suspected of treason. Come with us to the Hall of Punishment!"

I didn't get up.

I simply raised my head slowly, my gaze falling on his shoulder.

At that moment, he shivered inexplicably and took half a step back.

"What?" I asked, my voice calm. "You don't even have a search warrant, and you dare arrest someone?"

"Search warrant?" another person sneered. "The evidence has been burned out, and you're still pretending! Afu has already confessed, saying you told him to start the fire!"

My eyes narrowed slightly.

Afu... confessed?

Impossible.

Unless he was beaten until he lost his mind.

I lowered my eyes, hiding the flash of golden light in their depths.

"Okay," I said. "I'll go."

They froze for a moment, not expecting me to be so compliant.

I slowly stood up, tidied my sleeves, and tucked the pouch of powder back into my inner pocket. As I walked out, I glanced back at the clay pot in the corner of the room—that was where Afu usually hid his dry rations. It was empty now.

He never got to eat that meal.

The Hall of Punishment was brightly lit.

Afu was hung from an iron rack, his upper body bare, his shoulders and back covered in bloody marks. He hung his head, his breathing shallow, as if he could die at any moment.

I was brought to the hall. The captain of the Law Enforcement Team hadn't arrived yet. Several guards surrounded me, their gazes unfriendly.

No one noticed my fingertips lightly tapping the ground.

With each light tap, a trace of extremely fine origin seeped into the earth, spreading along the building's foundation. This was a skill I learned after the ancestral hall—establishing a hidden connection using the resonance of the Remnant Dao. As long as Afu was in the Hall of Punishment, his pain would continuously provide me with Battle Intent Fragments.

Seven out of nine.

Just a little more.

"Cough..." Afu suddenly raised his head, blood seeping from his lips, yet he forced a smile. "Young Master... you're here..."

I looked at him, saying nothing.

He knew I couldn't save him. But he still smiled.

"That dagger... I really haven't seen it..." he panted, his voice hoarse. "You have to stay alive... don't avenge me... just survive..."

Before he could finish, a whip cracked down, cutting off his words.

I remained standing, like a stone statue.

But the Heaven-Slaying Origin within me had already begun to boil.

Just then, hurried footsteps sounded from outside the door.

A servant-like figure stumbled in, holding a wooden box, his face deathly pale. "Re-Reporting, sir! Something's happened... in the direction of the secret chamber! Ji Hantian... he... he cut his wrist!"