The thought caused a chill to run through Li Wei’s body. He suddenly imagined Patriarch Shigo Tianyu sitting stooped in a dark room scheming against him. He recalled how, yesterday at the arena pavilion, the patriarch had rested a sharp, measuring gaze on him for a heartbeat longer than necessary—how that gaze had felt like a blade across his back—how the lotus within his dantian had folded upon itself until his qi and pulse felt muffled.

  Could it truly be Patriarch Shigo Tianyu?!

  After puzzling over it for a long moment, he quietly dismissed the notion. No. It couldn’t be, he thought.

  A person of the patriarch’s power and status had no need for such underhanded tactics. If he had wanted Li Wei dead, he wouldn’t need schemes—he could have willed it so with a single command, or even with a stray flick of spiritual intent. There was no reason for him to dirty his hands with something as trivial as a frame job.

  But then, who?

  A third name surfaced unbidden in Li Wei's heart: Zhao Feng.

  Zhao Feng despised him. Even before Li Wei became a cripple, they had clashed repeatedly. And after Li Wei’s fall from grace, Zhao Feng had barely spared him a glance. But hatred like that did not simply fade. Moreover, Zhao Feng had long known that the mysterious ‘Buddha Mask Disciple’ often disappeared near the servant quarters. Had he killed Guo Liang just to rid himself of Li Wei, simply because he suspected him of being the Buddha Mask Disciple?

  No…

  No, no, no—that didn’t align with the facts.

  For the frame to succeed, Zhao Feng (or anyone else attempting such a scheme) would have needed to witness the unpleasant exchange between Li Wei and Guo Liang in the Upper Pavilion the previous day. Only by seizing that opportunity could the murderer convincingly twist suspicion toward him. Zhao Feng was not in the pavilion. He hadn't witnessed how Guo Liang treated Li Wei. He couldn't have leveraged that to paint Li Wei as a spited person who wanted revenge. Could he?

  Li Wei slowly shook his head. “No… I’m thinking in the wrong direction,” he muttered.

  It was impossible—utterly impossible—for Zhao Feng or any ordinary disciple to have killed Guo Liang without being detected. Both Su Qingyue and Guo Liang’s residences, as confirmed during the trial, were situated near the abode of Patriarch Shigo Tianyu. The patriarch’s mortal sense was said to be capable of blanketing an entire area like a silent world-embracing net. No mere disciple could perform such a vicious act under his nose and leave unchecked.

  Which meant…

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  Maybe… maybe it was an elder of the Azure Cloud Sect?

  A sharp-featured face surfaced in Li Wei’s thoughts, framed by a meticulously trimmed mustache—Elder Ming Haoren, the Third Head of the Punishment Hall. The man had pressed relentlessly to condemn Li Wei, ignoring inconsistencies, brushing aside evidence, and guiding the proceedings as though the conclusion had been decided long before the trial even began.

  It was because of the Third Head’s forceful insistence that Li Wei now sat in this cold, oppressive dungeon, awaiting execution by dawn’s first light. If there was anyone whose behavior was suspicious, it was Elder Ming Haoren. And yet… what was his motive? Why would he go so far as to kill Guo Liang only to frame Li Wei? What could he possibly stand to gain?

  As Li Wei wrestled with these spiraling questions, far above the underground prison another scene was unfolding.

  Xian Lan arrived before the towering stone facade of the Disciplinary and Punishment Hall. The building loomed over the courtyard like a solemn judgment suspended in midair. Outside, the plaza seethed with people, inner and outer sect disciples clustered in noisy groups, their voices buzzing with speculation, gossip, and outrage. Nearly all of them were discussing the verdict that had just shaken the sect—the murder of Guo Liang… and Li Wei’s conviction.

  “That Li Wei fellow must have snapped. I always knew there was something off about him,” someone muttered loudly.

  “A pity. I heard he used to be quite talented before becoming useless,” another sighed.

  A sudden shout cut through the noise. “Hey—look! Isn’t that Xian Lan, Li Wei’s best friend?”

  Heads turned, conversations shifting like birds flocking toward the same seed.

  “Ah, the murderer’s friend? What’s he doing here?” someone asked.

  “Maybe he’s here to break Li Wei out of the dungeon," another said sarcastically. "Since they’re friends, scum must attract scum.”

  “Yeah! Two criminals in one nest!”

  Laughter rippled through the crowd, hitting Xian Lan’s ears like thrown stones. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing, forcing his steps forward, climbing the long staircase toward the main hall doors.

  Halfway up, a figure slid into his path. “Well, well… if it isn’t fellow disciple Xian Lan,” the youth said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He was one of Zhao Feng’s lackeys, the same youth who had tried to bribe Xian Lan days earlier with a pouch of spirit stones. His smirk widened. “Visiting the Hall to beg for Li Wei’s life, are you?”

  Xian Lan’s expression remained stone-cold as he tried to move around the youth. But the lackey shifted again, blocking him with a sneer. “What’s the rush? I’m simply being polite. But perhaps I was too generous before.” His voice grew louder, deliberately theatrical for the crowd. “A person who takes spirit stones without keeping his promise isn’t exactly honorable, is he? In my eyes, that makes you nothing more than a petty thief. And your best friend? A murderer! Truly, what a perfect pair you two make!”

  “What? Xian Lan’s a thief?” someone in the crowd cried.

  “Wow. Birds of a feather really do flock together!” another person exclaimed.

  Xian Lan’s hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles whitened. “Get out of my way,” he growled.

  “Oh?” the lackey mocked. “And if I don’t?”

  Xian Lan raised his eyes. “Then I’ll kill you,” he said.

  The courtyard fell silent as though someone had placed a restrictive talisman over it. Conversations died mid-syllable. Even the wind seemed to grow still.

  Any other day, such a threat would have earned Xian Lan harsh laughter, ridicule, perhaps even small criticism from passing elders about improper conduct. But today, after Li Wei had been declared a killer, those same four words—‘Then I’ll kill you’—carried a completely different weight.

  Dozens of stunned gazes locked onto Xian Lan.

  No one laughed.