The wind in Northern Wasteland City swept up grains of sand, striking the face like fine needles. I stood at the foot of the stone steps before the City Lord's Manor plaza, while Ye Qingwan stood half a step beside me, her hand never leaving the medicinal pestle at her waist.
She said nothing, and neither did I move.
The clash of iron armor came from afar as a squad of city guards marched out in formation, escorting several disheveled people from the direction of the Black Market. They had once been Ji Hantian's trusted followers. Now their wrists were bound in iron chains, and their faces still wore expressions of disbelief.
I knew the storm had reached its breaking point.
Just then, hoofbeats erupted at the end of East Street, kicking dust into the air. A group of attendants in Purple Gold Python Pattern Robes rode in at full speed around one man, charging straight toward the main gates of the City Lord's Manor. The man swung down from his horse, kicked aside the guard at the gate, and strode into the center of the plaza.
It was Ji Hantian.
His face was ashen, his eyes bloodshot, as though he had not slept all night. He raised a hand and pointed at Yan Jiuxiao on the platform, his voice tearing through the morning silence. "Yan Jiuxiao! Have you gone mad enough yet? You sealed the Black Market and arrested members of my Ji Clan. Who gave you the nerve?"
Yan Jiuxiao stood atop the platform, his spine straight, a faint thread of golden light glimmering in his palm. The speck of light was weak, yet it made my heart jolt—the Origin Imprint was still operating, and his Divine Soul remained on the path I had laid out.
I neither stepped forward nor spoke.
I merely watched.
Yan Jiuxiao slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes settling on Ji Hantian. He was calm, as though he were not facing the direct grandchild of a Ji Clan elder whose power could blot out the sky. "Nerve?" he sneered. "You were the one who stretched out your own neck."
"What nonsense are you talking about?!" Ji Hantian roared. "You dare break our agreement? Have you forgotten who kept you seated as City Lord for ten years?"
"Agreement?" Yan Jiuxiao suddenly pulled a secret letter from his sleeve and flung it out.
The paper unfolded in midair and drifted to the ground.
It was a letter sealed with blood patterns, its edges scorched black, clearly torn by force from some hidden chamber. The Blood Demon Sect's Crimson Lotus Imprint was stamped conspicuously upon it. Beneath it were Ji Hantian's private seal and personal signature, detailing a transaction in which yin materials were supplied to the Black Market in exchange for fragments of demonic techniques.
The crowd immediately erupted.
Ji Hantian's pupils contracted sharply. He lowered his head to stare at the letter, his feet unconsciously retreating half a step.
That movement was more convincing than any defense.
"That's impossible!" he shrieked. "It's forged! Someone must be framing me!"
"Framing you?" Yan Jiuxiao said coldly. "On the third level of the hidden compartment in your secret chamber, you keep the Crimson Token granted by the Blood Demon Sect. Shall I send someone to retrieve it now? Or would you rather explain why Blood Crystal aura still lingers in the meridians of your left arm?"
The entire plaza fell deathly silent.
Ji Hantian's expression changed completely. He instinctively lifted his left arm, and his sleeve shifted to reveal a small strip of skin—a hair-thin red line there was faintly burning.
It was the trace left behind after a Blood Crystal had been implanted. Only those close to him or people well versed in demonic arts could detect it.
Yet Yan Jiuxiao had exposed it in a single breath.
Standing beneath the steps, my fingertips trembled faintly.
I had not told him to say that.
The strand of origin I had planted had ignited the suppressed memories deep within his Sea of Consciousness, forcing him to see clearly what he himself had done.
Now, he was not merely striking back. He was saving himself.
Ji Hantian had finally realized that the man before him was no longer the fence-sitter he could knead and shape at will.
He gritted his teeth, his voice low as a beast's growl. "Fine... very fine! You think this will bring me down? The Great Elder stands behind me. The entire Ji Clan will never tolerate your reckless actions!"
"The Ji Clan?" Yan Jiuxiao suddenly laughed. "Then ask them—" He abruptly turned toward the surrounding Ji Clan members. "Who is willing to live as kin beside someone colluding with the demonic path? Who wants the Blood Demon Sect to use our bloodline to refine Human Puppets?"
No one answered. But someone quietly took a step back.
Another person averted their eyes. The hearts of the people had already begun to waver.
Ji Hantian swept his gaze around and found that even the collateral disciples who usually fawned over him had lowered their heads. His fists clenched tight, his nails digging into his palms, yet his voice still forced out an air of authority. "Yan Jiuxiao, don't get smug! This isn't over! As long as I live, you can forget about—"
"Enough." Yan Jiuxiao raised a hand to cut him off, his tone beyond dispute. "From this day on, Ji Hantian will reflect behind closed doors and remain confined for three months. He is not to leave his residence by even one step. When the family head returns, a final judgment will be made."
Before his words had faded, two squads of city guards stepped forward and seized Ji Hantian by both arms.
"You dare?!" He struggled violently, his roar nearly tearing apart his throat. "I am the direct grandchild of a Ji Clan elder! You lackeys think you're worthy of touching me? Let go! Did you hear me?!"
No one listened to him.
The armored guards dragged him out without hesitation, their steps unwavering. His boots carved two long trails across the ground. His Purple Gold Python Pattern Robe was covered in dust, his crown sat crooked, and his long hair hung loose and disheveled.
The once lofty Young Master Ji was now dragged before everyone's eyes like a prisoner.
I quietly watched his receding back, the corners of my mouth lifting slightly.
Three years ago, in a dark chamber, he had personally driven a poisoned needle into my Dao bone and laughed. "Trash should have the fate of trash."
At the time, I thought I had died.
But now, he was the one still alive, while the prodigy I had once looked up to was the one brought to his knees.
Ye Qingwan suddenly turned her head and glanced at me.
Her gaze was complicated, as though it had pierced through the surface and seen something deeper.
"You arranged this long ago," she said.
It was not a question. It was a statement.
I neither denied nor admitted it. I merely looked at the empty plaza ahead and said softly, "It wasn't an arrangement. I merely followed the current."
She was silent for a moment, then lowered her voice. "Do you think he is pitiful?"
I turned to look at her.
Sunlight shone across her face, revealing the faint crease between her brows. She was not sympathizing with Ji Hantian. She was wary of me.
"What do you think?" I asked in return.
She shook her head. "He isn't pitiful. I was only wondering whether the next person pushed out would be you."
The wind swept across the plaza, lifting one corner of her cloak.
I smiled faintly, my voice quiet. "Then it will depend on whose hand is steadier."
She said no more and merely tightened her grip on the medicinal pestle again.
I knew what she was guarding against.
What she feared was not schemes, nor slaughter, but that kind of power which could control everything without a sound.
And I possessed precisely that.
At this moment, Yan Jiuxiao descended from the platform with steady steps. As he passed us, he paused. His gaze lingered on my face for an instant before swiftly shifting away.
He said nothing, but the golden glimmer in his palm gave a faint flicker.
We understood each other without speaking. He had won this round, but he had also completely cut off his own retreat. From this day onward, he was no longer a City Lord dependent on the Ji Clan, but an existence standing apart from every faction.
And that was exactly what I needed.
The crowd gradually dispersed, and silence returned to the plaza.
Only a few scraps of cloth remained hanging from the flagpole, swaying in the wind. They were torn corners from the chaos just now, embroidered with a half-bloomed blood lotus.
I stared at that flower for a moment, then reached into my robes and took out a Jade Slip.
It was a copy of the account book seized from the Black Market last night, recording the names of every merchant who had dealings with Ji Hantian. One page read: "On the seventh day of every month, deliver medicine to the west wing of Ji Manor in exchange for three jin of Red Sand."
That place was one of the entrances to the Ji Clan's secret chambers where Remnant Dao Crystals were stored.
I put away the Jade Slip and looked up at the sky.
The sun had already risen to its zenith.
"Let's go," I said to Ye Qingwan.
She nodded and followed behind me.
We crossed the plaza side by side, our footsteps giving off faint echoes against the stone slabs. In the distance, a crow landed on a broken wall, tilted its head to look at us, then flapped its wings and flew toward the west of the city.
My right hand remained tucked inside my sleeve, my fingertips lightly stroking the edge of the Jade Slip.
It was cold, as though it had just been dug from the earth.
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