The Tribunal filing was scheduled for dawn.
Gu Long had prepared everything—
arguments sharpened, scrolls sealed, evidence organized into a lethal sequence.
Chen Yuan had memorized all witness statements.
Lu Fu had sent messages to additional experts willing to testify.
Everything was ready.
Too ready.
And Elder Zhao, for all his arrogance, was not a fool.
Night fell on the Central District.
The moon hid behind clouds, and lanterns flickered weakly in the wind.
Chen Yuan sat on his bed, reviewing a transcript with furrowed brows. Outside, the night was uncomfortably silent—as if something in the air was holding its breath.
A knock came at the door.
He opened it.
"Lu Fu?"
The scholar stumbled inside, pale, trembling, sweat dripping down his temples.
"Chen Yuan—!" he gasped, clutching his chest. "Something—something is—"
He collapsed.
Chen Yuan caught him, lowering him gently onto the floor.
"What happened?!"
Lu Fu's lips trembled, barely forming the words.
"They—found out."
Chen Yuan felt cold breath down his spine.
"Who?"
Lu Fu's eyes widened with terror.
"Elder Zhao."
Before Chen Yuan could react, another sound echoed through the hall—
a scream.
A window shattering.
Footsteps—multiple—running.
Fighting.
Chen Yuan lifted Lu Fu carefully, placing him on the bed. No fatal injuries—he'd been shaken, not stabbed.
Then a voice echoed from outside the inn:
"Bring me the scrolls.
And kill the boy if he resists."
Chen Yuan's heart dropped.
Footsteps approached the hallway.
Hard.
Fast.
Training in every footfall.
He had no time to think.
No time to run.
He grabbed the three major scroll boxes—
Elder Zhao's debt extortion, the buried disciplinary directive, the false missions—
and hid them under his robe.
The door exploded inward.
Three Zhao disciples entered, masks covering their faces.
"Chen Yuan," one growled, "you were warned."
"I wasn't," Chen Yuan said plainly. "You simply never had the courage to say it to my face."
They moved instantly.
Chen Yuan stepped forward—
and The Conquest vibrated faintly at his side, as if sensing danger.
He dodged the first strike, redirected the second, and barely parried the third with the flat of his blade. But these were trained clan disciples, not beasts. And his Style was only 34%.
He was pushed back, cornered.
The lead disciple smirked behind the mask.
"Elder Zhao told us to bring your corpse if you refused."
Chen Yuan gritted his teeth.
He wasn't strong enough to defeat them.
Not all three.
But he didn't need to win.
He needed to survive.
Protect the scrolls.
Reach Gu Long.
A blade slashed toward his chest—
when a voice like thunder cracked through the hall:
"Enough."
A gust of wind blew through the window, knocking all three attackers backward.
Gu Long stood there, hair messy, breathing hard from running, ink-stained robes flapping in the wind.
He wasn't a cultivator.
And yet—
his presence hit like a hammer.
He pointed at the disciples with a rolled scroll like it was a sword.
"Touch my client before the Tribunal hearing, and I'll bury your clan under legal charges so severe your grandchildren will struggle to pay them off."
The disciples hesitated—
not from fear of power,
but from fear of what a legal prodigy could do.
Gu Long stepped forward, eyes flashing.
"And tell your Elder this:
every crime he committed,
every disciple he crushed,
every coin he stole,
every life he ruined—
I will bring all of it to light tomorrow."
The masked disciples trembled.
"But since you've broken into a public inn," Gu Long continued, "I think it's only fair I report this as attempted witness suppression and pre-tribunal assault."
The lead disciple stuttered.
"Y-you—"
"Run," Gu Long said softly.
They did.
They bolted through the broken window, vanishing into the night.
The inn fell silent.
Chen Yuan lowered his blade, breath shaking.
Gu Long walked past him, grabbed the shattered door, and propped it roughly against the frame.
Then he turned around and slapped Chen Yuan lightly on the head with a scroll.
"You idiot. Why didn't you run?"
"I had to protect the evidence."
Gu Long stared.
Then exhaled through his nose, annoyed.
"Good answer," he muttered.
He looked at Lu Fu, who was beginning to stir.
"Is he okay?" Chen Yuan asked.
"Just frightened," Gu Long replied. "Not hurt badly. Elder Zhao sent a warning—nothing more. He wants us scared before the hearing."
Chen Yuan clenched his fists.
"Then he failed."
Gu Long's lips curved into a small, sharp smile.
"Good. Because tomorrow morning—"
His eyes narrowed like a blade unsheathed.
"—we fight."
Chen Yuan felt the weight of the scrolls against his chest.
He nodded.
Tomorrow, Elder Zhao would face judgment.
And tonight—
the Sect learned that the boy from the ordinary Chen family…
would not break so easily.