Shin Tian looked at Li Tian and closed his eyes, as if he had already given up. He knew what would happen if he told the truth. The respect he had earned his whole life would fall like a felled tree, and he did not want that.
(At least not in front of these people—my image will be destroyed. I will never be able to show my face again.)
Then Shin Tian replied, voice trembling, "I… I, sir. Please, please believe me—what I said is true. I only wanted to rest. I really don't know what happened here."
After he spoke, the Liar Fly circled slowly before descending. It landed squarely on Shin Tian's left shoulder.
The crowd gasped in unison. Mothers pulled their children closer, men clenched their fists, and whispers spread like wildfire. A liar had been exposed before the entire clan.
When Li Tian saw the insect's judgment, veins bulged on his forehead and his killing intent surged like a storm. He was ready to tear Shin Tian apart on the spot. His aura grew heavier, pressing against Shin Tian's chest, making him cough up more blood.
But before he could act, Shin Tian suddenly dropped to his knees, voice breaking as he begged.
"Sir, please… I will tell you everything if you ask me in private. Please, sir… please."
At those words, Bai Nian and the other elders' expressions changed. The villagers buzzed with speculation. What kind of secret could force Shin Tian to beg so desperately?
Mo Mi's sharp eyes narrowed. Why is he going this far? What is he hiding? Curiosity glinted in her gaze as she stepped forward gracefully, her presence drawing attention despite the tension.
"Brother Li," she said with a voice that carried both honey and steel, "what he requests is clearly impossible. Why should we trust a liar like him?"
Turning toward Bai Nian, she bowed slightly, her words smooth but edged with intent. "Clan Leader, I want to investigate this person. Please allow me, so we can uncover the truth."
Li Tian's face darkened. He glared at Shin Tian, then at Mo Mi. This old hag… why interfere now? But more importantly, why is he still lying to me? Is someone threatening him? His thoughts churned, yet he stayed silent.
Bai Nian sighed, his calm but heavy gaze sweeping over the crowd and the elders. He raised his hand for silence. "I am with Elder Mo Mi. But the investigation will not be handled by her faction alone. It will be conducted by every elder present—and in my presence as Clan Leader."
He paused, then regarded Mo Mi directly. "I cannot accept your request outright, Elder Mo. Do not forget, Shin Tian belongs to the Tian Faction. If I handed him over to you alone, it would ignite unnecessary conflict. But under the clan's system, we will all investigate together."
Mo Mi lowered her head slightly, though the flicker of dissatisfaction in her eyes did not escape Li Tian's notice.
Bai Nian's tone turned sharp. "Guards! Capture this man. We will investigate him after the celebration."
"Yes, Clan Leader!" Several armored guards rushed forward, seizing Shin Tian by his arms. His protests were drowned by the noise of the dispersing villagers.
The crowd murmured restlessly, then began to drift back toward the celebration grounds. Some shook their heads, others whispered about the scandal. The once-respected Shin Tian was dragged away like a criminal.
—
Night passed.
Fu Yang woke and sat cross-legged on his bed, beginning his daily meditation.
Breath in… hummmmmmm.
(Wait twenty seconds.)
Breath out… haaaaaaaaaaa.
His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and the faint energy of the world seemed to move with his breath. Fifteen minutes later, he opened his eyes. They gleamed faintly in the dim light.
He rose and left his dorm, heading straight toward the market where food from the celebration remained.
The streets were littered with empty jars and scattered scraps. Villagers lay sprawled around the stalls, snoring and reeking of alcohol. Some had collapsed on benches, others slept half on the ground with faces smeared with wine.
Fu Yang found a corner seat and waited. He ordered a meal from a passing waiter, but no one came. Everyone was either too drunk or too busy cleaning up the mess. With a sigh, he stood and walked into the kitchen.
Inside, the air was thick with last night's grease and smoke. Leftovers had been stacked in clay pots. Fu Yang lifted the lids, grabbed a couple of chicken legs, and warmed them over the stove. He sat down at the nearest table and began eating casually.
Nom, nom. Nom—gulp.
Grease dripped down his fingers, but he ate slowly, savoring the quiet moment.
Some time passed, and Fu Yang had eaten half his food, when a drunken villager stirred nearby. The man rubbed his eyes, then saw Fu Yang with food in hand.
"Gulp… hey, kid—bring me the food."
Fu Yang ignored him, continuing to chew. Nom, nom.
The villager's face reddened. "Oi, brat! Are you deaf? I said bring me the food!"
Fu Yang still did not respond. He calmly bit into the chicken leg. Nom, nom. Gulp.
The villager staggered to his feet and stomped over, swaying from the wine still heavy in his blood. He loomed over Fu Yang, breath stinking of liquor.
"Brat, do you know who I am? I'll be a great cultivator someday. People like you will kneel before me."
He snatched the last chicken leg from Fu Yang's plate and stuffed it into his mouth. Meat and bone cracked between his teeth as he chewed noisily.
Fu Yang's expression didn't change. He simply smiled faintly.
The man froze mid-bite. "Mmm… why are you smiling, brat?"
Before he could say more, Fu Yang grabbed a wine bottle he had earlier filled with water and smashed it across the villager's head.
Bump—woossh!
The bottle shattered, blood spraying as the man screamed in pain. He toppled to the ground, clutching his head, and then fell unconscious.
"Aaah! Aaah!" Villagers who had been dozing nearby shot awake. Cries spread through the market. "He's hurt! Someone help him! Take him to the medicine practitioner!"
As chaos broke out, Fu Yang slipped away silently, vanishing into the edge of the crowd.
He stopped only when he reached the outskirts of the market. From there, he watched the guards digging near the burned bamboo building. Their shovels struck the earth again and again, and their faces were grim.
Fu Yang's eyes narrowed. He stood with the innocent curiosity of a child, head tilted slightly, lips parted as if he were just another villager gawking at the mess. But inside, his mind was sharp.
When most villagers had returned to the market to resume eating, Fu Yang blended in and followed. Snatches of conversation filled his ears—their gossip about Shin Tian, about the fire, about the terrifying Spiritual Worm used the night before.
Fu Yang exhaled softly, his smile returning.
(Mmm… so they used the Liar Fly. Heh. The fly needs ten days to recover, and for now Shin Tian will be imprisoned.)
He bit into a piece of bread and chewed slowly. He did not care about revenge itself. For him, Shin Tian was a convenient pawn. This situation carried enormous benefits. With a single plan, he was striking two targets at once.
—
By afternoon, Fu Yang leaned against the trunk of an old tree on the hillside. Its wide branches stretched outward, swaying gently with the wind. The cold breeze brushed his pale face and carried with it the faint scent of grass and damp soil.
He closed his eyes, letting the wind thread through his long black hair. For the first time in days, a quiet smile curved his lips.
(How peaceful… yet beneath this calm, the world is already burning.)