Sun Yi locked eyes with Elder Jin Jue, the head of Law Enforcement. He offered a polite, perfunctory bow—the kind given before a firing.

“Elder Jin,” Sun Yi began, his voice projecting clearly across the hall. “In my professional assessment, you are not only unfit for the CEO position, but you are also grossly negligent in your current role as Director of Law Enforcement.”

Jin Jue laughed, the sound sharp and brittle. “Hahahaha! A boy with sky-high audacity! A Level 3 Qi Refining intern dares to evaluate my performance? I have served this sect for twenty years with diligence! Give me one convincing reason why I am ‘negligent,’ or I will grind your bones to dust and scatter the ashes!”

The threat hung heavy in the air. Patriarch Qingxuan and the other Elders watched closely. It was unprecedented for a low-level disciple to challenge a Golden Core executive so openly.

Sun Yi didn’t flinch. He was betting everything on the Patriarch’s presence. This was a hostile takeover, and step one was proving the current board was a liability.

“Elder Jin,” Sun Yi pressed, “what is the core mission statement of the Law Enforcement Hall?”

“To uphold the law with impartiality!” Jin Jue scoffed.

“Agreed. Fairness, Justice, Transparency.” Sun Yi nodded, ticking them off on his fingers. “But have you met these KPIs?”

Jin Jue’s eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning my integrity?”

“I am questioning your attendance record,” Sun Yi shot back. “When was the last time you physically inspected your department? Your three direct reports are running a racketeering ring. They oppress disciples, solicit bribes, and embezzle fines. Did you authorize this, or are you simply asleep at the wheel?”

“Slander!” Jin Jue roared. “You are courting death!”

Killing intent exploded from the Elder. He raised a hand to crush the insect before him.

Buzz.

A massive, invisible weight slammed down, freezing Jin Jue in place. The Patriarch had intervened.

Sun Yi’s heart hammered against his ribs. Cultivation corporate culture is toxic, he thought, sweating. Hostile work environment doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Do you know the penalty for filing a false report against a superior?” Patriarch Qingxuan asked, his voice calm but dangerous.

“I do,” Sun Yi said, bowing again. “But this is not a false report. It is an internal audit.”

Sun Yi pulled a jade slip from his sleeve. “I have compiled a dossier of grievances and financial irregularities involving Elder Jin’s subordinates. The entire staff knows about it. If the Chairman doubts the data, we can call witnesses for a deposition immediately.”

He had spent every last spirit stone he owned on this intel. It was time for the ROI.

The jade slip flew from Sun Yi’s hand into Qingxuan’s grasp. The Patriarch scanned it with his Divine Sense.

“Hmph.” Qingxuan’s face darkened. He tossed the slip to Jin Jue. “Look at this mess. I had no idea you allowed the Law Enforcement Hall to become so foul and corrupt.”

Jin Jue caught the slip, scanning the data. His face went pale. The evidence was irrefutable. He hadn’t managed his department in years, delegating everything to corrupt disciples while he focused on his own cultivation.

“Management failure is a disqualifying factor for the Sect Leader position,” Sun Yi stated coldly.

Jin Jue slumped, defeated.

The other four Elders watched with glee. One rival down. Their odds had just improved.

Sun Yi pivoted immediately. “Elder Qin Chu.”

The head of Internal Affairs froze.

“As the Director of Internal Affairs, you manage the sect’s payroll and resource distribution,” Sun Yi said, his tone sharpening. “Yet you allow your disciples to skim off the top. The workforce is demoralized. Complaints fill the roads. You have turned a critical support department into a bottleneck of corruption. And you think you deserve a promotion?”

“Lies!” Qin Chu shouted, pointing a trembling finger. “My staff works diligently! We operate within budget!”

Sun Yi produced a second jade slip. “Here is a list of victims who have had their stipends garnished or stolen. It includes dates and amounts.”

The slip flew to the Patriarch. A moment later, Qingxuan glared at Qin Chu.

“Is this how you manage our assets?” Qingxuan asked, his disappointment palpable.

Qin Chu read the report and went silent, his face draining of blood.

Sun Yi didn’t stop. He turned his gaze to Li Tai, the head of External Affairs.

Li Tai stopped smiling. He felt a sudden, primal urge to flee. Don’t come over here, he pleaded internally.

“Elder Li,” Sun Yi announced. “Your department handles client relations and field missions. But under your leadership, it has become a ‘pay-to-play’ scheme. Disciples who pay bribes get safe, high-yield missions. Those who don’t are sent to die in high-risk zones. You have monetized the lives of your subordinates.”

“I…” Li Tai stammered.

“You are the Director. The buck stops with you.” Sun Yi pulled out the third jade slip.

The Patriarch reviewed it. His expression shifted from disappointment to anger. Li Tai saw the look and knew his career was over.

Sun Yi turned to Han Yun, the head of the Transmission Hall.

Han Yun, a powerful mid-stage Golden Core cultivator, felt sweat bead on his forehead. He was being stared down by a Qi Refining ant, and the pressure was crushing.

“Elder Han,” Sun Yi said softly. “The Transmission Hall is our Human Resources and Training division. It is the foundation of our future. Twenty years ago, we suffered a liquidity crisis in manpower. We needed you to upscale the workforce.”

Sun Yi paused. “What have you achieved in twenty years?”

Han Yun blinked. “I… I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Exactly,” Sun Yi snapped. “You haven’t done anything. In two decades, how many Foundation Establishment talents have you developed? What is the growth rate of the disciple body? You have practically ceased operations. You aren’t managing the department; you’re letting the asset depreciate. That is gross negligence.”

The fourth jade slip came out. The Patriarch’s face was now thunderous. Han Yun looked at the stats—stagnant growth, zero innovation—and lowered his head in shame.

Finally, Sun Yi turned to Ye Luo, head of Miscellaneous Arts.

Ye Luo didn’t wait. He closed his eyes and sighed. He was already checking out. I’m done. Just get it over with.

“Elder Ye,” Sun Yi said, not letting him off the hook. “Your department handles R&D and Manufacturing—pills, talismans, formations. These are our products. Yet, for twenty years, our technology has stagnated. We have lost market share to every competitor in the region. You have been ‘quiet quitting’ for decades.”

“Quiet quitting?” Ye Luo mumbled, confused by the term but understanding the sentiment.

“You gave up,” Sun Yi clarified. “You let the department rot. If you cannot manage a single workshop, how can you manage a conglomerate?”

The final jade slip was delivered. Patriarch Qingxuan looked at the report on the sect’s crumbling infrastructure and manufacturing capabilities. He looked tired. He hadn’t realized how deep the rot went during his seclusion.

Ye Luo remained silent, accepting the critique.

Sun Yi stood in the center of the hall. He had executed a perfect pentakill. He had dismantled the credibility of the entire executive board with logic, data, and sheer audacity.

But he wasn’t done.

This was just the individual performance reviews. Now, it was time for the group restructure. He had burned the bridge; he had to cross the chasm. If he didn’t secure the CEO title today, these five Elders would murder him the moment the Patriarch looked away.

Time to close the deal, Sun Yi thought.