“Chu Batian is dead.”

The words hung heavy in the air. A Sect disciple loomed over Wang Ba, his gaze sharp and probing. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Chu… Immortal Chu… is dead?!”

Wang Ba’s face twisted into a mask of pure shock.

Internally, however, his mind was racing, a tempest of suspicion and confusion. Dead? Already? He had calculated precisely, leaving Chu Erniu with several months of Lifespan remaining. How could he have dropped dead so suddenly?

But there was no time to unravel the mystery now. Years of walking on thin ice had honed Wang Ba’s survival instincts to a razor’s edge. He clamped down on his internal turmoil, ensuring not a single micro-expression betrayed him.

He furrowed his brow, feigning a frantic struggle to recall. “I… I think the last time I saw him was yesterday morning. Around the hour of Si… This Immortal, how… how did Immortal Chu…”

“Don’t ask questions,” the Sect disciple reprimanded softly.

The disciple turned away, his interest already waning. He had merely asked out of protocol; he didn’t truly believe a lowly Laborer Disciple like Wang Ba was capable of harming a Qi Refining cultivator.

At that moment, Zhao Feng approached.

Trailing behind him were a solemn-looking Senior Brother Shi, Tao Yi, and Lin Yu. Aside from the corpse of Chu Erniu, everyone from Ding Ninth Manor was now present.

Zhao Feng’s expression was usually cold, but today it was glacial.

“Speak,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension. “What were you all doing yesterday?”

He pointed a finger. “Wang Ba. You first.”

“Yes!”

Wang Ba flinched visibly, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt a spike of genuine guilt—he had drained Chu Erniu’s Lifespan yesterday, after all. He couldn’t be certain if the backlash or the drain itself had triggered this early demise.

But externally, his mask remained flawless. He bowed his head nervously.

“Yesterday… I was working at Ding Eighty-Seventh Manor early in the morning. I arrived here around the hour of Chen. Immortal Chu seemed… agitated. I went about my duties—feeding the chickens, cleaning the coop.”

Wang Ba paused, swallowing hard. “Then… then Immortal Chu tried to kill me. He attacked me with his sword. Fortunately, Immortal Shi intervened just in time to save this lowly one’s life. Not long after, you arrived, Senior Brother Zhao.”

He continued, his voice trembling slightly. “After you left, Immortal Chu returned to his room. That was the last I saw of him. I finished my cleaning and returned to Ding Eighty-Seventh Manor around the hour of You.”

Zhao Feng’s eyes narrowed. Hearing that Chu Erniu had attacked a fellow disciple with a sword sparked a cold glint of annoyance in his gaze.

He didn’t speak, simply gesturing for the next person to continue.

Senior Brother Shi stepped forward, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I… I was cultivating in my room all day yesterday. Around the hour of Chen, Senior Brother Guan from the External Affairs Hall came to notify Chu Er… Chu Batian… that he had been drafted for the front lines.”

Shi swallowed. “He started wailing outside. After that… it happened just as Wang Ba said. Once Wang Ba and Lin Yu left, I stayed in my side room to cultivate. I didn’t come out until this morning. When I saw he hadn’t risen for work, I went to call him… and found him…”

Tao Yi shrugged, looking bored. “My story is similar. After Senior Brother Shi discussed the future work division with us, I left immediately. I went to see Senior Brother Zhang Qi at the Clean Mountain Department. I didn’t return until the hour of Hai. Senior Brother Zhang Qi can vouch for me. When I heard Senior Brother Shi yelling that Junior Brother Chu was dead this morning, I ran straight to the Punishment Department.”

Zhao Feng’s gaze shifted to Lin Yu.

She looked exhausted, her face pale and drawn. “I also… when I woke up yesterday, I heard Chu Batian screaming. The rest is as Wang Ba described. After you left, Senior Brother Zhao, I returned to my room. I left the manor in the afternoon, around the hour of Xu, and only just returned.”

A square-faced Sect disciple standing nearby immediately stepped in, his tone aggressive. “Where did you go?”

Lin Yu glanced at him, biting her lip. “A… a Senior Sister…”

“Which Senior Sister?” the square-faced disciple pressed, stepping closer.

Her hesitation was palpable. Guilt was written all over her face.

Several other disciples stiffened, their hands drifting toward their weapons, Spiritual Power beginning to circulate in their meridians.

Zhao Feng remained silent, but his heavy gaze settled on Lin Yu like a physical weight.

Lin Yu’s expression crumbled. “I… I wasn’t at the manor last night! It wasn’t me!”

“Junior Sister,” the square-faced disciple said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He produced a Talisman from his sleeve, holding it between two fingers. “You had best tell us truthfully where you were. Otherwise…”

The disciples closed in, a silent, predatory circle.

Facing the cold indifference in their eyes and the surging pressure of their cultivation bases, Lin Yu broke. Her face went sheet white.

“I… I went to Senior Brother Jing’s place last night…”

She squeezed her eyes shut as soon as the words left her mouth, humiliation radiating from her.

The tension in the air shifted instantly. Some disciples looked enlightened, others smirked, and a few leered with open greed.

“How long were you there? What did you do? When did you return?”

The square-faced disciple opened his mouth to drill her further, but a sharp voice cut him off.

“Enough!”

Zhao Feng shot the interrogator a cold look. The square-faced disciple instantly shrank back, bowing his head. “Yes, Senior Brother.”

Tao Yi, who had been watching the drama unfold with amusement, suddenly spoke up.

“So, that means only Senior Brother Shi is a suspect? Between the hour of Xu and the hour of Hai last night, he was the only one alone in Ding Ninth Manor with Junior Brother Chu.”

“Tao Yi! You… what nonsense are you spouting?!”

Senior Brother Shi froze, stunned, before his face flushed red with anger.

“I’m just analyzing the situation,” Tao Yi said, spreading his hands helplessly. “Don’t get upset, Senior Brother Shi. If we can’t resolve it, we can just invite an Elder from the Punishment Department to perform a Soul Searching on everyone. Clears things up right quick.”

The casual mention of Soul Searching sent a chill through the group.

Despite his tone, the seed of doubt was planted. Several disciples turned their gazes toward Senior Brother Shi.

Shi looked ready to faint from terror and rage. “It wasn’t me! Why would I harm an idiot like him? Senior Brother Zhao, I swear! Ask my Master, he knows my character! I am not that kind of person!”

“Whether you are or not, you will come with us to the Punishment Department…” the square-faced disciple began.

“It wasn’t him,” Zhao Feng interrupted suddenly.

The square-faced disciple frowned, confused. “Senior Brother, have you found a clue?”

Zhao Feng looked at him, his face completely devoid of expression. “No. But my intuition tells me he is innocent.”

Wang Ba blinked.

Intuition?

To his surprise, this seemingly absurd statement was met with immediate, unanimous agreement.

“If Senior Brother says so, then it must be true,” the square-faced disciple nodded sagely. “It really shouldn’t be him.”

Wang Ba was left mentally scratching his head. Can intuition really be used as admissible evidence in a homicide investigation?

Just then, another disciple came running up, whispering urgently into the square-faced disciple’s ear.

The square-faced disciple’s frown vanished, replaced by a look of vindication. He turned to Zhao Feng and bowed deeply. “Senior Brother is wise indeed. Junior Brother Chu’s death was not Shi’s doing.”

Senior Brother Shi stood there, mouth agape, utterly bewildered by the rollercoaster of accusations and acquittals.

“And,” the square-faced disciple added, sweeping his gaze over the other three, “it likely wasn’t them, either.”

Everyone looked surprised.

“We just finished inventorying Chu Batian’s Storage Bag,” the disciple explained solemnly. “We discovered a heretical cultivation technique. This manual promises rapid progression, but the risks are severe. The slightest error causes a massive loss of essence and vitality.”

He gestured toward the room where the body lay.

“It is highly likely that upon hearing of his conscription to the front lines, he panicked. In his desperation for power, he practiced this forbidden technique, suffered Qi Deviation, and died from the total exhaustion of his vitality.”

“This perfectly matches the state of the corpse: a dried husk, devoid of life force.”

“Died from exhaustion of vitality?” Lin Yu gasped, covering her mouth. She had clearly been kept in the dark about the body’s condition.

Senior Brother Shi and Tao Yi nodded slowly, the explanation fitting the facts they knew.

Zhao Feng listened without a flicker of emotion. His peripheral vision swept briefly over Wang Ba before he gave a curt nod.

“When I arrived yesterday, his eyes were shifting and evasive. He was hiding a guilty conscience along with that heretical text.” Zhao Feng waved his hand dismissively. “Since the truth is clear, close the case.”

“Yes!”

The square-faced disciple bowed and immediately began directing the others to remove Chu Erniu’s remains. The deceased’s belongings were confiscated without a second thought.

The efficiency was staggering. Wang Ba stood there, struggling to process the speed of events.

That’s it? It’s over?

He felt a surreal sense of disbelief. Had he just dodged a lethal bullet because of a convenient misunderstanding? This investigation was absurdly childish.

“Junior Brother Wang.”

Zhao Feng’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Walk with me.”

For reasons he couldn’t name, the hairs on the back of Wang Ba’s neck stood up.

He had no choice. Bracing himself, he followed Zhao Feng out of the manor gates.

“Senior Brother Zhao,” Wang Ba said respectfully once they were out of earshot.

“Hmm.” Zhao Feng slowed his pace. The icy mask he wore in front of the others seemed to thaw slightly, revealing a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “You find it strange, don’t you? That we closed the case so quickly, with so little hard evidence?”

Wang Ba hesitated, trying to find the safe answer. “Is it… is it because there are spells that can determine the truth?”

“No.”

Zhao Feng shook his head. He looked away from Wang Ba, his gaze fixing on the distant peaks. His voice was flat, yet it carried an abyssal depth.

“It is because we are cultivators.”

He turned back, his eyes boring into Wang Ba.

“Cultivators do not need evidence. If I believe it is you, then it is you.”

“We do not require proof, nor do we concern ourselves with the mortal obsession for fairness and justice.”

Zhao Feng’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“It is purely subjective. It is a matter of will.”

“Just as my intuition tells me… that the death of that disciple named Chu is related to you.”

In that instant, a chill colder than any winter wind shot down Wang Ba’s spine.