A heavy silence settled over the Administration Hall.
Everyone present—merchants, doctors, alchemists, clerks—had already reached the same conclusion in their hearts. Judging by the reputations of Young Master Sirius and Derek alone, it was obvious that whatever Derek claimed could not possibly be the complete truth.
People like Derek never told the truth unless it benefited them.
They were the type who twisted facts as naturally as breathing, especially when backed by authority powerful enough to crush dissent before it even formed.
Most spectators could already piece together what had likely happened.
Derek had probably provoked someone he shouldn't have. Perhaps he tried to bully Ethan, perhaps he attempted to seize something he coveted. And perhaps—for once—things didn't go as he planned. Maybe the other party had skill, restraint, or intelligence enough to avoid direct conflict.
But arrogance like Derek's never accepted humiliation.
He would never swallow such an insult quietly.
So what would someone like him do?
He would seek someone stronger. Someone whose authority could suppress truth itself.
And thus, Young Master Sirius appeared.
The people present understood this instinctively.
Yet despite understanding, not a single person dared to voice their thoughts.
They knew the rules of survival in Phoenix Feather City far too well.
Truth was powerless before authority.
Justice bent before political weight.
Even if Ethan was innocent—even if every word he spoke was logical and backed by evidence—it wouldn't matter. The scales of justice were already tilted long before this confrontation began.
Young Master Sirius, after his initial moment of surprise, quickly regained his composure. His expression returned to one of calm confidence.
From his perspective, the situation was already resolved.
Whether Ethan was right or wrong no longer mattered.
Because Young Master Sirius was certain of one thing:
As the son of a Deputy Patriarch of the Union, justice would always side with him.
He glanced sideways at Manager Philip and gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.
That single gesture carried enormous meaning.
Manager Philip immediately understood.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his demeanor shifting from polite administrator to stern official.
He turned to Ethan.
"What is your name, young man?" Manager Philip asked in a formal tone.
"Sherlock Holmes," Ethan replied calmly, his voice steady. "You can call me Sherlock."
"Very well, Sherlock," Manager Philip said, nodding. "This matter has now become… complicated."
He clasped his hands behind his back and spoke with measured authority.
"As per Union regulations, when an individual is found to be suspicious in a dispute involving public disturbance, all involved parties must remain under Union supervision until a full investigation is completed."
He paused deliberately.
"Until the truth is fully uncovered, the Union cannot provide you with any services or approvals."
The implication was clear.
"Therefore," Manager Philip continued, "you will remain in our custody. Please follow me to the Justice Department."
A collective breath was sucked in by the crowd.
No one spoke.
But everyone understood what was happening.
This wasn't justice.
This was suppression.
The Justice Department, as its name suggested, was responsible for investigations, interrogations, and trials. Anyone brought under its custody would be monitored closely. If found guilty, punishment would be swift. If found innocent… freedom was theoretically possible.
But theoretically was the key word.
Everyone present knew exactly what Manager Philip was doing.
By delaying Ethan's registration and dragging him into an investigation, he was effectively preventing him from opening a clinic—without officially denying him.
A perfect political move.
Clean. Subtle. Cruel.
Even those who wanted to speak up swallowed their words.
They didn't have the background. They didn't have the authority. And they certainly didn't have the courage to oppose the son of a Deputy Patriarch.
Ethan took a step forward.
"I haven't committed any crime," he said calmly. "And I certainly didn't violate any Union laws."
His gaze was steady, unwavering.
"You're abusing your authority to bully me. If you have proof, present it. Otherwise, I refuse to go with you."
The moment those words fell, the atmosphere shifted.
Young Master Sirius's lips curved into a faint smile.
"A bold one," he murmured.
He turned slightly and spoke indifferently, as though discussing trivial matters.
"No need to complicate things. Summon the Justice Department here. Let them handle it properly."
His tone carried unquestionable confidence.
Handling disputes, crimes, and investigations within the city fell entirely under the jurisdiction of the Justice Department. Other departments were not permitted to detain suspects directly—it would violate Union law.
Only Justice Department personnel were authorized to make arrests.
Ethan remained silent after that, standing calmly as if he were completely unconcerned.
Minutes later, the sound of armored boots echoed through the hall.
A group of uniformed soldiers entered, their presence immediately commanding attention.
They wore dark-blue armor embossed with the Union's insignia. Their posture was straight, their expressions cold, and the faint aura of trained cultivators surrounded them.
Justice Department enforcers.
The crowd instinctively stepped back.
Everyone looked at Ethan with mixed emotions—sympathy, pity, helplessness.
They knew he hadn't done anything wrong.
And yet, they also knew how this would end.
Messing with people of wealth and authority was the fastest way to ruin one's life in the cultivation world.
One of the soldiers stepped forward. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and radiated authority. His eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on Manager Philip.
"Why were we summoned?" the man asked, his voice firm and professional.
Manager Philip immediately approached and bowed respectfully, whispering the situation into the man's ear.
The soldier listened without interruption.
As the explanation concluded, his gaze slowly shifted toward Ethan.
His eyes sharpened.
A cold, assessing stare—one that made many people instinctively avert their gaze.
After a brief pause, the man spoke.
"Boy," he said flatly, "you're coming with us."
Ethan tilted his head slightly, feigning confusion.
"I came here to register a clinic," he said calmly. "I didn't commit any crime. Why are you targeting me?"
The soldier's eyes narrowed.
In his experience, people who spoke back were either extremely foolish… or extremely confident.
Behind him, Young Master Sirius, Manager Philip, and Derek all wore faint smiles.
They had seen this scenario countless times.
When someone without background dared to challenge authority, it never ended well.
The soldier's voice hardened.
"You dare question us?"
He stepped closer.
"Your companion has committed a crime and is currently missing. Both of you are now suspects."
His aura surged slightly, pressing down like invisible pressure.
"As per Union law, we have the authority to detain suspects. You will come quietly, and your punishment may be lighter."
His eyes flashed coldly.
"Or you resist—and we arrest you by force."
The hall was silent.
Everyone could feel the tension thickening.
From their perspective, Ethan's fate was sealed.
Once dragged into the Justice Department under suspicion, he would never walk out unscathed.
Then—
Ethan smiled.
Not a forced smile.
Not a nervous smile.
A calm, deliberate smile.
"The Union's laws?" he repeated softly.
A glint of amusement flashed in his eyes.
A cunning, sharp smile slowly spread across his face.
For the first time since the confrontation began—
Ethan looked like a man who had already seen the outcome.
And that smile alone made several people's hearts skip a beat.