The vast courtroom was silent except for the soft crackle of lanterns above.

  Su Qingyue stood in the witness box, a small platform bordered by carved wooden rails. Her poise and grace from yesterday had vanished, replaced by something fragile or hurt. She resembled a white lotus trembling beneath winter frost.

  The elder presiding over her questioning was Elder Ming Haoren, the Third Head of the Punishment Hall. He had a narrow face, a meticulously trimmed mustache, and a voice smooth as lacquer yet cold as slate. He lacked the thunderous authority of First Head Gong Sunhai, and the quiet gravitas of Second Head Hu Jianhong, but every syllable he spoke seemed to bend the air, as though he could make the wind confess it blew wrong, or fire admit it burned too hot.

  Elder Ming Haoren inclined his head politely toward Su Qingyue, though his expression remained stern. “Lady Su Qingyue,” he began, “for the sake of clarity, please recount once more the events of this morning… when you discovered Young Lord Guo Liang’s body.”

  Su Qingyue inhaled softly, steadying herself. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but clear. “Senior Brother Guo and I have a habit of training together early in the morning. This morning… I noticed he had not come out for practice. That was unusual. He prided himself on being early to our training.”

  Elder Ming nodded thoughtfully. “And so you sought him out?”

  “Yes,” Su Qingyue answered. “I wished to make sure he was well.”

  “Compassionate,” The Third Head murmured approvingly, though his eyes remained sharp. “And how did you find him?”

  Su Qingyue’s hand tightened around the handkerchief. “The door to his chamber was unlocked. I called out, but he did not answer. When I stepped inside…” She swallowed. “He was lying there… already cold.”

  Her voice nearly broke.

  “And you immediately sent for the Punishment Hall?”

  “Yes… I did.”

  The elder nodded slowly.

  “And last night, during the Inner Sect Tournament proceedings, did Young Lord Guo Liang interact with the accused, Li Wei?”

  Su Qingyue hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Yes. When Li Wei approached to refill our cups, Senior Brother Guo spoke to him. Mockingly.”

  “How so?”

  “He… belittled Li Wei’s lack of cultivation. Called him names. Considered him beneath notice.”

  The elder’s brows rose as if surprised, though his tone betrayed it was expected.

  “And how many times did Li Wei approach your table to serve refreshments?”

  Su Qingyue’s lashes lowered. “Twice, perhaps three times.”

  “And both times, he handled the cups directly?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  A murmur rippled through the hall. The implication was taking shape.

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  Elder Ming’s voice lowered, as if with the weight of sorrow. “And during these interactions… did you notice anything amiss in Li Wei’s demeanor?”

  She bit her lip. “He appeared restless… anxious even. He kept glancing at the arena, where his friend fought.”

  “So an unstable emotional state,” the elder concluded gently. “Upset. Distracted.”

  Su Qingyue’s brows knit lightly.

  “Lady Su,” Third Head Ming Haoren continued, “it is known you spoke kindly to Li Wei. You even dismissed him briefly from service so he might undertake a task. Why?”

  She hesitated again, carefully choosing her words. “He looked distressed. I thought… giving him something to do might ease his heart. So I asked about a drink—Moonlight Dew Nectar.”

  “And he left his duties unsupervised,” Elder Ming concluded. “Right after being insulted and humiliated by the deceased.”

  Su Qingyue’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t deny the sequence.

  A final question came, heavy as a sword descending:

  “Lady Su, based on what you witnessed… would you say Li Wei had reason to harbor resentment toward Guo Liang?”

  The question stabbed knife-sharp into the silence.

  Su Qingyue looked down. When she finally answered, her voice trembled with sincerity and reluctance both:

  “…yes.”

  Li Wei stared at her, his breath snagging in his throat. It wasn’t betrayal; it was truth. He truly did have a reason to harbor resentment against Guo Liang. However, just because he had a reason didn’t men he did the crime.

  The questioning dragged on for what felt like an eternity, half an hour of carefully threaded words sewing a noose around Li Wei’s neck.

  Finally, the Third Head gestured, and the guards brought Li Wei forward to the examination box.

  His wrists remained bound.

  The Third Head regarded him with a curious blend of pity and suspicion.

  “Li Wei,” he began, “you were born in a remote village of no significance. You joined the Azure Cloud Sect as a hopeful youth, dreaming of ascending the immortal path… correct?”

  Li Wei’s voice was steady. “Yes.”

  “And three years ago… that dream was shattered in the arena.”

  Li Wei nodded. “Zhao Feng crippled me by mistake. I bear him no grudge.”

  “Mistake?” Elder Ming smiled thinly. “Afterward, you spent three years sweeping floors. A fallen genius forced to serve those who once were your peers.” He leaned forward slightly. “Did that not embitter your heart?”

  Li Wei’s eyes flickered, but he said nothing.

  The elder continued, voice smooth as silk. “You watched others cultivate, rise. And Guo Liang—privileged, arrogant—mocked your downfall to your face.”

  Li Wei clenched his jaw.

  The elder pounced on the reaction. “A proud heart humiliated. A cripple scorned. Tell me, Li Wei, did you not wish for vengeance?”

  “No,” Li Wei shot back.

  “No?” Elder Ming said. “Yet your actions suggest otherwise.” He paced slowly before the platform. “When the final match began yesterday between Zhao Feng and Xiao Lan—where were you, Li Wei?”

  Li Wei’s gaze flickered instinctively toward Su Qingyue.

  “At that time,” he said, steadying his voice, “I was fulfilling Lady Su’s request. I went to inquire about Moonlight Dew Nectar.”

  The elder paused. He turned his eyebrow toward Su Qingyue.

  Su Qingyue nodded at once, wiping her tears. “Yes, as I mentioned earlier, I did send him.”

  Elder Ming inclined his head, acknowledgement without softening. “Indeed.” Just as he opened his mouth to ask another question, the chamber doors slid open.

  A Punishment Hall disciple hurried in, carrying a wooden box. He rushed straight to the Third Head and whispered urgently into his ear.

  The elder’s eyes widened, for just the briefest heartbeat. He opened the box, inspecting the content within, then he straightened.

  He placed the box on his table with a ringing thud.

  “It appears,” he announced, “there has been a development.”

  The hall fell still.

  “While this inquiry has taken place, Li Wei’s quarters were searched. And this box contains… items of great concern.”

  The elders on the raised benches murmured darkly, like crows disturbed from roost.

  Li Wei felt cold sweat bead along his spine.

  Could it be? he thought.

  It must be…

  It just must…

  Li Wei knew. Somehow, he knew what lay inside the box.

  The Angry Buddha mask!

  He kept the mask inside his room. Each night he hid it in a secret place behind his wardrobe. But if they had ransacked his room while he was absent and turned everything upside down, it wouldn’t be surprising if they had managed to locate it.

  Based on the shocked expression the elder had worn when the disciple whispered in his ear, Li Wei had a strong feeling his secret identity had been exposed.

  His fists tightened helplessly against the binding silk.

  He swallowed hard.

  Heaven… have mercy.

  Elder Ming Haoren tapped the lid of the box with a single knuckle, and then looked straight into Li Wei’s eyes.