Two days passed in a blur.
Chen Yuan spent them training lightly, recovering, and reviewing the scrolls again and again. Every rereading made the truth clearer. Elder Zhao was not simply cruel—he was corrupt to the bone.
If Chen Yuan wanted Strife, here it was.
By the evening of the second day, just as he was returning to his modest lodging near the Central District, a messenger hawk swooped down and landed on his shoulder with surprising precision.
A silver tag hung from its leg:
Lu Fu. Urgent.
Chen Yuan removed the scroll, opened it carefully, and read.
I found someone. Meet us at the School of Archeology.
—Lu Fu
He didn't hesitate.
He hurried through the dimly lit pathways, lanterns flickering as wind brushed through the cultivated trees. When he reached the Archeology Hall, Lu Fu was waiting outside, waving both arms frantically.
"You're late!"
"I ran."
"Good! That means your lungs work. You'll need them; the man you're about to meet will talk faster than you think."
Chen Yuan blinked.
"What?"
Lu Fu took a deep breath, then fixed his robe and entered, gesturing for Chen Yuan to follow. They walked past the shelves and rooms, until they reached a small chamber lit only by a single lantern.
Someone was there.
A young man.
Early twenties, maybe younger than Chen Yuan.
Hair tied high in a scholar's knot, robe neat, ink stains on the sleeves.
His eyes were razor sharp—cold, analytical, and somehow far too alive.
He looked up from a scroll he was reading.
"Chen Yuan," he said immediately, as if greeting a long-awaited guest. "Sit."
Chen Yuan sat.
The young scholar bowed slightly.
"Gu Long. Department of Ancient and Modern Law, University of Qiu Chen. Prodigy — not my term, but the term they won't stop using."
His voice was quick, rhythmic, and strangely musical.
Every sentence clipped cleanly into the next.
"I heard you want to challenge a Sect Elder."
Chen Yuan nodded.
Gu Long smiled faintly.
"I admire the courage. Or insanity. Possibly both."
Lu Fu cleared his throat.
"He's the best we have."
Gu Long rolled his eyes. "I'm the only one crazy enough to help you with this, is what he means."
He snapped his fingers.
"Proofs?"
Chen Yuan handed him the three scrolls.
Gu Long unrolled them and read at frightening speed—his eyes scanning each line in seconds, fingers tapping rhythmically against the table.
"Debt extortion… interest manipulation… hidden disciplinary directive… ah, delicious."
"Delicious?" Chen Yuan echoed.
"Legally speaking," Gu Long clarified, waving the scroll. "For me, this is like giving a starving man a feast."
He finished the third scroll, exhaled slowly, then leaned back.
His face shifted.
From amused—
to serious.
Very serious.
"This is enough to open a judicial investigation."
Chen Yuan's pulse quickened.
"But you must understand what that means," Gu Long continued. "The moment we file this, the Zhao Clan will retaliate. Elder Zhao will use his influence. They will try to silence you. The Tribunal will be pressured. Everything will move against us."
"I know," Chen Yuan said.
"Good. Because if you didn't, I would've walked out."
Gu Long set the scrolls down carefully.
"Now, listen well. I will not take your case unless you answer one question truthfully."
Chen Yuan straightened.
"Why," Gu Long asked softly, eyes narrowing, "do you want to bring Elder Zhao to trial?"
Silence.
Chen Yuan could have lied.
He could have said "justice" or "equality" or some heroic nonsense.
But he didn't.
"I hate him," Chen Yuan said.
Calmly.
Firmly.
Without embellishment.
"He destroyed my family.
He nearly destroyed Zhao Ming.
He abuses his power.
He believes he is untouchable."
His hands closed into fists.
"I want Strife.
I want him judged.
I want him exposed."
Gu Long stared at him for a long, quiet moment.
Then—
He smiled.
Not friendly.
Not warm.
Sharp.
Predatory.
"That," he said, "is honesty. And honesty makes the best cases."
He stood abruptly.
"I accept."
Lu Fu almost jumped with excitement.
Gu Long rolled his sleeves up.
"Now give me every detail. Every memory. Every witness. Every scrap of information. As your representative, I will turn each one into a blade."
His eyes flashed.
"And together, Chen Yuan—
we will carve Elder Zhao off his pedestal."
Chen Yuan exhaled—half relief, half anticipation.
He finally had a weapon with teeth.
Not a sword.
Not a style.
A lawyer.
A prodigy of law whose mind was sharper than any blade.
Gu Long leaned over the table.
"Let's make history."