The Prefectural Yamen, Inner Hall.
Color gradually returned to Long Yuqing's pale, wooden face, and the hand clutching his robe beneath the table slowly loosened.
As he listened to the Little Bad King's story, his heart gradually settled, and he realized that rebuttals and arguments would only strip away his last shred of dignity.
He had nothing to say. He merely raised his arm slowly, lifted his wine cup, and drained it with his head tilted back.
Ren Ye watched him, slowly rose, and asked hoarsely, "Do you know... whom I respect most in this story?"
He raised his arm and pointed, trembling slightly, at the Wordless Memorial Tablet beside him. "The person I respect most," he said, stressing every word, "is him. Your father-in-law-Yang Ganglie."
"...!"
At those words, Long Yuqing's eyes, which had been fixed levelly on the tabletop, reddened slightly.
"After Wuchen died in the Emperor's Tomb, when the Immortal Wave Sect was gripped by panic and teetering on the brink, you secretly dispatched the Demoness and revealed the sharpest blade you had honed over eight years. A thousand cultivators of the Vengeful Ghost Sect stormed Immortal Mountain, shattered the Dao Palace, and burned this thousand-year-old Ancient Sect that had weighed upon the common people to ashes."
"Then the other Immortal Wave Four Cities showed extraordinary unity. They raised four hundred thousand troops to besiege Tide Dragon, denouncing the Yang Family and intending to breach the city amid the chaos and divide its spoils."
"This move by the four cities instantly confronted Old Master Yang with an unprecedented crisis, trapping him in a dilemma with no way out. He realized he had no choice. With the Immortal Wave Sect utterly destroyed, the light of the Immortals above could no longer shelter his Yang Family. If he struck