Early the next morning, in the royal council chamber.
This hall, large enough to accommodate over a hundred people, held fewer than thirty today. Seated along the long table were several dukes and marquises, as well as key officials from the Legal Department and the Ministry of Internal Affairs.
Two chairs had been placed near the throne, occupied by Duke Sebas and his wife. Hogg sat to the Old King’s left, a file spread out before him.
The Old King sat upon his throne. There were faint dark circles beneath his eyes, but his spirit seemed fair, though he appeared noticeably more haggard than he had during the anniversary celebration.
A thick stack of interrogation records sat in the center of the long table. Over the past ten or so days, members of Intelligence and the Legal Department had conducted seven formal interrogations of Duke Cecil, his wife, and their son Lanqiu. Their testimonies were largely consistent.
Corvin, the Chief Judge of the Legal Department, was delivering the final statement. This man in his fifties had hair that was mostly white and spoke with a slow, measured cadence, as if every word had been carefully weighed before being uttered.
“—In summary, Duke Cecil and his retainers did indeed provide the Blood Moon Cult with multiple hideouts, supply transportation channels, and some intelligence support prior to the attack. This is corroborated by accounting records, intercepted communications, and the testimonies of several peripheral cultists. The chain of evidence is complete.”
He closed the file and adjusted his glasses.
“According to the sentencing standards for treason in Volume Seven, Chapter Three of the Kingdom’s Code, the primary offenders should be executed by beheading, while accomplices should face exile or life imprisonment depending on the severity of their involvement. These are the preliminary findings of the Legal Department. We await Your Majesty’s ruling.”
As soon as he finished, several ministers spoke up in succession.
“I completely agree with Lord Corvin’s opinion,” the Finance Minister, seated in the third position on the right, spoke first with a firm tone. “The Blood Moon Cult’s attack caused damage to over thirty percent of the Outer City. The casualties have yet to be fully tallied, and the academy was practically leveled. If we do not severely punish the primary culprits for such devastating losses, how can we answer to the people?”
“I concur,” the Military Minister, a burly middle-aged man with a voice like a bell, added. “The Imperial Guards and the City Guard lost over a hundred men in this incident. Duke Cecil, as one of only two dukes in the kingdom, was secretly funding the enemy. For treason of this magnitude, beheading according to the law is already a lenient sentence.”
Several others nodded in agreement. The air around the long table grew heavy. A few younger officials who had intended to speak looked at each other and swallowed their words.
Corvin turned his gaze toward the Old King, waiting for the final verdict.
The Old King did not speak immediately. His gaze lingered on the stack of testimonies for a long time in silence.
“I have personally reviewed Duke Cecil’s testimony,” he finally spoke, his voice low but clear to everyone in the hall. “From beginning to end, he did not offer a single word in his own defense. All the crimes—providing hideouts, arranging transport, assisting with intelligence—he admitted to everything. And he insisted that these were his actions alone, unknown to anyone else.”
The Old King paused.
“I also reviewed Lanqiu’s testimony. He admitted to participating in some of the operations, but similarly took all responsibility upon himself, claiming it had nothing to do with his father. Both father and son are attempting to exonerate the other, leading to contradictory testimonies.”
Corvin’s brow furrowed slightly. He sensed something was amiss—the King did not seem to want Duke Cecil dead.
The Old King looked up, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
“There is one more thing. In all the testimonies from Duke Cecil and Lanqiu, there is not a single mention of who was pulling the strings. They insist they planned everything themselves—do you truly believe that a single duke and a young man not yet twenty could, without any external support, contact the Blood Moon Cult and procure dozens of crates of restricted explosive magic crystals on their own?”
He stopped there. Several ministers instinctively lowered their heads. They had more or less heard the rumors—rumors regarding the Second Prince—but no one dared to speak that name in this setting.
The Finance Minister opened his mouth, but changed his words at the last second. “Your Majesty, even so, the evidence of Duke Cecil’s crimes is ironclad. Regardless of whether there was a mastermind, his own act of treason is unforgivable.”
Corvin also coughed lightly, his tone becoming more cautious. “Your Majesty, I understand your concerns. But everyone is equal before the law. If we show leniency to a duke, how will we restrain other nobles in the future? The kingdom’s laws and discipline cannot be shaken for the sake of personal feelings.”
The Old King turned to Hogg.
“What does the Royal Preceptor think?”
Hogg looked away from the unopened file before him. He glanced at the Old King and then slowly shook his head.
“This matter is entirely for Your Majesty to decide.”
The Old King looked at him and nodded slightly after a moment. He sat up straight, his hands gripping the armrests of the throne as if he had made a firm resolution.
“Duke Cecil—he is to be stripped of his title, and all his fiefs and rewards are to be reclaimed. He is exiled to the northern ice fields at the border, forbidden from entering the Royal Capital for the rest of his life. His son, Lanqiu, in consideration of his youth and the fact that he committed no direct murders, will have his merits stripped. His title is demoted from viscount to baron, and he is barred from inheritance. All other retainers and servants of the House of Cecil are to be disbanded and expelled from the Royal Capital, never to return.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the council chamber erupted.
The Finance Minister was the first to stand, his face flushed red. “Your Majesty! Only exile for treason of this magnitude? This—this is unacceptable!”
“Your Majesty, please reconsider!” the Military Minister rose as well, his voice even louder than before. “Duke Cecil’s crimes warrant beheading according to the law! With such a light sentence, how can we face the families of the fallen soldiers? And how can we face the commoners who lost their homes in the Outer City?!”
Corvin’s tone carried a hint of disbelief. “Your Majesty, the sentencing recommendation submitted by the Legal Department was also beheading. Even if you believe beheading is too severe, you should at least consider life imprisonment. Exile—this is truly...”
He didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was clear. The ministers on both sides of the table whispered among themselves, and even those who had been neutral now furrowed their brows.
The Old King waited for them to finish before he spoke slowly.
“Are you all finished?”
The voice was not loud, but the clamor in the hall vanished in an instant. The Old King stood from his throne, his movements slow but exceptionally firm. It was only after a man who had been a bystander for so long finally made a decision that everyone suddenly remembered that this throne belonged to him.
“I have sat on this throne for decades. Over these years, I have left most matters, large and small, to the Royal Preceptor and you ministers. You have done well, so I have rarely intervened.” He paused. “But that does not mean you can ignore my words.”
He looked at the Finance Minister, then at the Military Minister, his gaze calm but unquestionable.
“Duke Cecil committed crimes that warrant beheading—you are correct. But by law, that requires my signature, and I can choose not to sign.”
The Finance Minister’s expression shifted. He wanted to say something, but the Old King raised a hand to stop him.
“This is not a negotiation.”
After those words fell, everyone in the hall froze. The Finance Minister stood for a moment before finally sitting back down, his expression extremely grim.
The Military Minister also retreated to his seat, his hand tightening on the back of his chair. Corvin put his glasses back on and silently tucked the sentencing recommendation back into his folder.
Hogg had not spoken a word the entire time.
Once the ministers’ dissatisfaction had gradually subsided, Corvin reopened his notebook and cleared his throat to move on to the next item. “Very well. Next is the handling of the other involved nobles—”
Halfway through his sentence, the doors to the council chamber were flung open from the outside.
Angela strode inside. She was rarely wearing formal mage robes today, but her appearance left much to be desired as she ran in a panicked trot.
She gave a casual salute toward the Old King—a gesture so perfunctory that several etiquette-conscious nobles frowned on the spot—and then, without looking at anyone else, she headed straight for Hogg’s seat.
“Master, something terrible has happened!”
Hogg frowned. He set down his file and was about to reprimand her for such reckless behavior in a formal setting when Angela grabbed his sleeve and yanked hard.
“If we’re late, it’s all over! Come with me, quickly!”
Hogg remained seated and said in a heavy voice, “This is the council chamber, not a place you can just burst into. You had better have a good reason—”
“The boss has been arrested!”
Hogg froze.
“What do you mean, the boss was arrested? Speak clearly—”
“The one from the tea shop—”
Before Angela could finish, Hogg had already bolted from his chair. Violent mana exploded beneath his feet, the air pressure sending the chair tumbling backward several times. In the next second, he transformed into a streak of light and vanished through the council chamber doors, moving so fast that even Angela couldn't react.
She was stumbled back by the gust of wind. Once she recovered, she took off running after him.
“Master, wait for me!”
The two figures vanished at the end of the corridor in the blink of an eye.
Inside the chamber, the Old King was still standing before his throne. He looked at the swinging doors, then at the ministers staring at each other in bewilderment, and remained silent for a few seconds.
Duchess Sebas lightly tapped her husband’s arm with her fan and whispered, “The ‘boss’ Angela mentioned... was that Mr. Li Yuan?”
Duke Sebas’s brow furrowed. Recalling his daughter’s unusual behavior over the past few days, he felt an indescribable mix of emotions.
“...Most likely.”
Corvin was the first to snap out of it. He had been a judge for over thirty years and had seen all sorts of emergencies, but this was the first time the Royal Preceptor had been dragged out of a royal council meeting by a disciple.
He spread his notebook open again and cleared his throat.
“Your Majesty, shall we continue with the handling of the other involved nobles?”
The Old King looked back and sat on his throne, waving a hand at Corvin.
“Continue.”
Corvin opened his notebook and began to state the names and specific crimes of the next group of nobles. The ministers’ attention was gradually drawn back to the business at hand.
...
Legal Department, detention cell.
Li Yuan had been sitting in this cramped room for nearly eight hours. Since being brought here in the early hours of the morning, the two chairs opposite the wooden table had never been empty.
Two men in the standard white robes of the Legal Department were conducting the interrogation. The one on the left appeared to be in his early forties, his hair combed meticulously and his face expressionless; he had introduced himself only as Morton. The one on the right was younger, perhaps in his twenties, and held a recording board, his pen having barely stopped since they began.
The mana shackles on Li Yuan’s wrists were not heavy, though they occasionally made a crisp metallic clink with his movements.
He had already said everything he could—his identity, the tea shop, his employment with Lanqiu, and exactly what he had done during those ten days. Every detail had been made clear enough.
But the men across from him clearly did not think so, or perhaps they had not received the answer they wanted.
“Mr. Li,” Morton said, interlacing his fingers on the table as he spoke again. “You say Lanqiu hired you as his personal attendant and paid you a thousand gold coins a day. Didn't you find that figure strange at the time?”
Li Yuan sighed inwardly.
He had already answered this question three times, but he repeated himself helplessly.
“At the time, I believed it was reasonable compensation given by Young Master Lanqiu in recognition of my tea-making skills. My skills are indeed worth that price, and many people can testify to that—anyone who has been a customer at my tea shop.”
Morton’s expression did not change as he turned a page in the interrogation record.
“Then how do you prove that you were unaware of his connection to the Blood Moon Cult?”
“I am merely a tea master and an attendant. My responsibilities were brewing tea, serving tea, and fetching meals as instructed. Young Master Lanqiu never discussed anything related to the Blood Moon Cult in my presence, nor did he ever take me to any suspicious locations. He never allowed me to involve myself in his private affairs.”
“Never allowed you to involve yourself?” the younger interrogator stopped writing and looked up at Li Yuan. “With a thousand gold coins a day in compensation, you didn't want to know where the money came from? Wouldn't a normal person’s reaction be to report it or at least consult the Legal Department?”
“I was doing honest work. There was nothing wrong with the nature of the job, and it didn't require consultation with others.”
Li Yuan’s tone remained gentle, but it was the result of extreme patience. He had said this in several different ways already, and the other party always found a new angle to ask again.
Sure enough, Morton immediately followed up. “Then how do you prove that during your time as an attendant, you did not directly or indirectly provide assistance to the Blood Moon Cult?”
“I have already said that my work was limited to brewing, serving, and fetching meals. I did not participate in anything related to the Blood Moon Cult—”
“Words alone are not enough.” Morton raised a hand to cut him off. “Mr. Li, what we need is substantive evidence. You claim you were unaware, you claim you only brewed tea—then can you provide any evidence to prove this? Is there anyone who can testify that you only did what you said during those ten days? Is there any physical evidence, communication records, or witnesses?”
Li Yuan froze—he hadn't expected such a devious line of questioning.
Witnesses? The only people he had contact with daily were his employer, Lanqiu, and the constantly dozing Krieger. Lanqiu was currently missing, and Krieger was one of Lanqiu’s men; the Legal Department would not accept their testimony.
Written records were out of the question; the job of brewing tea didn't require any documentation from start to finish. Communication records? He hadn't even bought a communicator in this world.
These weren't just matters that were "difficult to prove"; it was simply impossible to produce evidence for them.
“You are asking me to prove something I did not do and provide substantive evidence?” Li Yuan furrowed his brow slightly. “That is likely—”
“Likely what?” Morton leaned back in his chair, a corner of his mouth twitching. “Likely that you can't find an excuse anymore?”
Li Yuan fell silent.
Over these past hundred-plus years, he considered himself to have a very good temper. Back on the Kyushu Continent, when facing cultivators who came to debate the Dao, he could treat them with courtesy regardless of their attitude. But this man’s logic gave him his first sense of being unable to communicate.
He took a deep breath, repeatedly reminding himself not to get angry—there was no need to lose his temper over such a small matter.
“I will explain once more.” His tone remained gentle, but his pace was a bit heavier than before. “I am just a tea master. Lanqiu gave me money, and I brewed tea for him. As for where his money came from, what he did, or who he associated with—those were not within my responsibilities. I cannot prove that I didn't know those things, just as you cannot prove what you are thinking in your head right now.”
After hearing this, Morton exchanged a look with the younger interrogator. Then he pulled a folded piece of parchment from beneath the table, unfolded it, and pushed it toward Li Yuan.
A confession.
It listed seven or eight crimes in dense detail, ranging from collusion and treason to providing assistance to the Blood Moon Cult, as well as withholding information and indirect participation in acts endangering the kingdom’s security. At the very bottom was a signature line, with a quill dipped in ink placed beside it.
“If it cannot be proven, then you are guilty.”
“Mr. Li, I advise you to cooperate,” Morton’s voice was flat and unremarkable. “Sign the confession and confess of your own accord; the punishment can be reduced.”
Li Yuan looked at the confession, then at the two men across from him.
His gaze lingered on Morton’s face for a few seconds.
Was this an interrogation? It didn't seem like it. An interrogation by the Legal Department should be based on evidence, yet this man was merely trying to bait him into giving the answer they wanted and then forcing him to sign a confession.
Li Yuan took another deep breath, trying to adjust his mindset.
Just as he was about to speak, the iron door of the room was blown open from the outside with a deafening crash, causing even the recording board on the wall to shake.
Hogg stood in the doorway, his face ashen.
The residual wind mana around him had not yet fully dissipated. His grey-blue eyes first landed on the mana shackles on Li Yuan’s wrists, then swept over the confession spread on the table, before finally fixing on the two men who were pressuring Li Yuan to sign.
Morton was startled by the sudden intrusion, nearly dropping the quill in his hand. The younger interrogator leaned back so sharply that he and his chair almost toppled over.
Hogg’s chest heaved violently, and the hand hanging at his side instinctively clenched into a fist. He took a step forward, the stone tiles beneath his feet cracking slightly from the residual mana.
Morton immediately recognized who had arrived and sprang from his chair, bowing so low his waist was almost level with the tabletop.
“R-Royal Preceptor! Why are you—”
“Get out.”
Hogg’s voice trembled slightly, teetering on the edge of pure rage.
“Royal Preceptor, we are currently—”
Hogg’s mana poured out—an endless flood of power that filled the entire detention cell in an instant, compressing the air until it felt almost solid. The confession on the table was swept up by an invisible force and incinerated into ash in mid-air.
Morton’s face turned deathly pale, and his assistant’s legs gave way, leaving him slumped in his chair.
“I will say it once more,” Hogg’s voice sounded exceptionally low in the tightening air. “Get out.”
The two men scrambled and crawled their way out of the detention cell.
Hogg stood in place for a moment, suppressing his surging mana. He turned and walked quickly to Li Yuan. Seeing the mana shackles on Li Yuan’s wrists, he felt a sense of suffocation—a rush of tension, fear, and even dread that he hadn't felt in years surged up.
He immediately stepped forward and undid the magic seal on the shackles.
Li Yuan rubbed his wrists. The shackles weren't heavy, but wearing them for so long was somewhat uncomfortable.
Hogg carefully observed Li Yuan’s expression. That usually indifferent face was now filled with visible tension; his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but the words felt wrong before they could be spoken.
If this gentleman truly became angry, the entire Legal Department might suffer, and he would only be able to watch helplessly.
Li Yuan stood up and adjusted his cuffs. He looked up at Hogg and, seeing the normally calm and steady old dean looking so tense, he suddenly found it a bit amusing.
“Royal Preceptor, if you had arrived a step later,” he said in his usual gentle tone, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips, “I might have actually signed that confession.”
Hogg’s expression froze, and he stood dazed in place.
“Sir, I—”
“I’m joking,” Li Yuan resumed his usual composure and said helplessly. “Though I truly didn't expect your efficiency in issuing arrest warrants to be so high.”
Hogg’s expression shifted before finally settling into a helpless, bitter smile. He bowed deeply toward Li Yuan.
“This was my oversight. There were too many names on the list, and I did not verify them one by one when I signed it. For you to suffer this undeserved disaster, the responsibility is entirely mine.”
Li Yuan waved a hand, having no intention of truly holding a grudge. Seeing this, Hogg was relieved and stepped aside to make way.
“Please, after you. I will handle the Legal Department; I guarantee there will not be a next time.”
The sunlight outside was perfect, and Li Yuan took a rare moment to stretch.
Not far away, Angela was bent over, panting heavily, having clearly run all the way from the council chamber. Seeing the two of them come out, she looked up, wiped her face casually, and then sprinted toward Hogg.
“M-Master—you fly too fast—I couldn't keep up—”
Hogg glanced at her, though for once, he didn't feel a headache coming on.
“A worthless disciple; I apologize for the display.”
Li Yuan smiled and nodded.
“A lively disciple will always bring some trouble, but overall, it is not a bad thing.”
Angela blinked, not quite understanding. By the time she realized Li Yuan was praising her, the two of them were already walking away side by side.
“Of course—hey, wait! Master, wait for me!”
Rate on N.U.
