Cen Wenyu and Han Ling finished searching the last patch of shadow; on the ground remained only overturned soil and faint traces of lingering spiritual energy. As Han Ling withdrew his gaze, a gentle warmth spread across his wrist. A slender beam of light suddenly shot out from his sleeve, instantly transforming into a crystal-clear long sword with a slightly upturned blade—Yun Qian finally couldn't hold back and "came out for some air."
"Master, master—" the sword spirit's voice was playfully cheeky, "It's so stuffy outside, I'm about to gather dust!"
Han Ling raised an eyebrow in resignation. "You're not a sword, so where would the dust come from?"
Yun Qian huffed, the sword blade vibrating slightly, then circled around him, apparently intrigued by the magical formation on the ground.
Cen Wenyu's eyes narrowed, clearly noticing something unusual about this sword—it possessed intelligence and cultivation far beyond ordinary spirit weapons and could even converse freely with people. Yet he asked no further, merely glanced at Han Ling once more, as if suppressing his curiosity deep inside.
Just as the two finished tidying up, a low rumble powered by spiritual energy echoed from afar. A luxurious flying ship tore through the clouds. It was no ordinary transport vessel, but a high-grade craft custom-made by the Cen family—its hull layered with spiritual runes and even covered with a protective barrier.
The ship landed, and when the cabin door opened, the first to step down was an elderly man with a full head of silver hair but still vigorous—Cen Wenyu's grandfather. Behind him followed four similarly aged but impeccably dressed individuals, whose aura revealed distinguished backgrounds. Han Ling's divine sense scanned them briefly, discovering their cultivation levels capped at the Concentration Realm, except for one who had reached Refining Soul, albeit as a late breakthrough.
As they stepped onto the ground, their gazes were immediately drawn to the ancient magical array below.
"Oh my... this is real…"
"N-No, wait, these patterns—they're even more complete than those in the ancient books!"
"Hurry, don't step inside, be careful not to trigger anything!"
The elders circled the formation like children discovering a priceless treasure, whispering excitedly, their faces brimming with undisguised enthusiasm. Cen Wenyu sighed and stepped forward to caution them, "Grandfather, be careful. If you want to see the corpse, you should go to the hospital near the Special Department."
The body on the ground had long been properly handled by forensic and medical staff, sealed in a high-grade temperature-controlled corpse bag—its surface covered with dense array patterns to slow decay and preserve the corpse intact.
The grandfather nodded after hearing this but still lingered longingly on the array, as if wishing to camp there for days to study it.
Han Ling was about to call Liu, the steward, to return, when his peripheral vision caught a subtle detail—Liu glanced discreetly at one of the elders and gave a barely noticeable nod. The elder responded with a subtle glance and a slight nod, as if exchanging a secret greeting.
Han Ling's eyes didn't miss this. A growing sense of wariness about the Han family's secrets weighed heavily in his heart. It seemed his arrival was more deeply entangled with this family than he had imagined.
At Cen Wenyu's urging, the two finally boarded the rescue team's flying ship back to the Special Department. Before boarding, Han Ling lightly tapped Yun Qian's blade, "Change back, don't cause trouble."
Yun Qian hovered in midair, the blade trembling slightly, its faint sword hum low like a child's whining protest. He clearly knew the place Han Ling was about to go wasn't suitable for carrying a spirit sword that would attract attention, yet stubbornly refused to restrain his presence. The sword tip even deliberately pointed outward, showing his displeasure.
"Be good, don't cause trouble." Han Ling's hand pressed gently along the spine of the sword with a patient tone, "There are too many people there; you'd be too conspicuous."
Yun Qian's blade vibrated lightly, like a child shaking its head stubbornly.
Han Ling smiled wryly and let a gentle stream of spiritual energy flow into the blade along its spine. The energy was like sugar, instantly turning the sword's high-pitched hum into a soft, low tone, and the blade gradually quieted down.
"I'll let you out for some air when I come back, okay?"
Yun Qian gave a muffled hum in response, finally ceasing to struggle. The sword light retracted, the blade quickly shrinking and twisting within a circle of faint golden light, transforming into an exquisite silver bracelet quietly fastening onto Han Ling's wrist.
Though obedient now, the faint sword aura still asserted ownership—it was coming wherever he went.
Han Ling glanced down, tapping the bracelet lightly with his fingertip before turning and walking forward.
The cabin door closed, and the rescue ship landed steadily at the Special Department's port.
Han Ling withdrew his gaze, took a steadying breath, and stepped off the ship. As he walked through the corridor, Yun Qian's childish voice faintly echoed, "Be careful."
The Special Department's automatic doors opened, casting cold white light onto the floor. Upon entering the lobby, Han Ling spotted Lan Qihan, Gu Xingxi, and Jiang Mingyao sitting on a sofa not far away.
Gu Xingxi, originally looking down at her lightbrain device, suddenly looked up at the sound, her eyes instantly shining as if discovering a treasure.
"Senior Han!" she nearly jumped up and ran over, her voice full of barely contained excitement, "That pill you refined... it was completely pure, no impurities at all!"
Jiang Mingyao followed closely behind, his eyes shining brighter than the lightbrain screen. "And after taking it, the healing speed was terrifyingly fast! On the way to the hospital, the wounds healed almost completely, even the bruises faded quickly. The head doctor thought we were faking and kicked all three of us out."
The two stood flanking Han Ling, their expressions like they'd discovered a legendary treasure—full of admiration and curiosity.
Han Ling was somewhat overwhelmed by their enthusiasm, managing only a faint smile and a soft "Hmm" as if trying to deflect the topic. But this only made their eyes shine even brighter.
Just then, the office door opened, the sound of rustling files and footsteps signaling the arrival of Hang Zhongxuan.
Cen Wenyu raised an eyebrow and asked, "Why are you still here? Weren't you supposed to interrogate Chen Qiyue?"
Hang Zhongxuan shrugged, a hint of helplessness in his voice. "I was going to, but that guy wouldn't cooperate, so I set it aside to handle other matters. Just as I was about to retrieve some documents, I got a message from the director—something about 'don't pretend to be sick and run to the hospital to interfere with treatment.' I was confused and thought someone was joking, then I heard noise outside and came to check."
Jiang Mingyao seized the opportunity and said, "Director! You don't know, Senior Han is amazing! Not only is his cultivation high, but he can also refine pills—even though they're just basic ones, they're completely impurity-free!"
Hang Zhongxuan responded with a simple "Oh," his tone flat.
Jiang Mingyao looked stunned, "Huh? You already knew?!"
Gu Xingxi was also taken aback, turning to look at Han Ling, the admiration in her eyes deepening with a hint of mystery.
Cen Wenyu chuckled and took over the conversation, "Senior Han privately told me before, asking me to help find someone suitable for pill refining—preferably someone with a compatible spiritual root and strong divine sense. Such people have better concentration and can remove impurities in materials more effectively, leading to higher success rates."
His tone grew slightly serious, "But we still haven't found a suitable candidate. Older pharmacists have solid fundamentals but when it comes to learning pill refining, they have to start from scratch. Their habits make them impatient to practice, leading to higher failure rates."
The atmosphere in the lobby quieted instantly. Jiang Mingyao frowned, seemingly pondering something. Gu Xingxi looked thoughtfully at Han Ling, as if wondering if she might be that "suitable candidate."
"You can give it a try," Hang Zhongxuan said as soon as he finished speaking, casually adjusting his collar with a lazy expression. "Alright, let's go. To the interrogation room."
Han Ling followed closely behind, his steps steady, shoulders slightly squared, eyes betraying a flicker of restrained anticipation.
Outside the interrogation room, a thick soundproof glass separated two spaces. In the observation room stood Lan Qihan, Cen Wenyu, Gu Xingxi, and Jiang Mingyao—four people sitting quietly, each clutching notebooks and recording devices.
Their gazes fixed intently on the heavy glass, occasionally exchanging subtle looks, silently calculating which questions to ask next, worried they might have missed crucial clues.
Han Ling entered the interrogation room. The sight before him was Chen Qiyue seated calmly at the table, a faint cold smile playing on his lips, his eyes sharp as blades, staring straight ahead.
Han Ling took a deep breath and spoke in a low, steady voice, "I was sent by Grant to find the missing Ling Zhao."
He deliberately slowed his speech, carefully reading every subtle flicker in Chen Qiyue's expression.
Chen Qiyue's face darkened for a moment, anger rising in his eyes, but it was immediately masked behind a masterful façade.
His brows furrowed, but a trace of disdain lingered as a faint cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth. "Grant? What kind of act is that guy pulling this time?"
Han Ling remained unfazed and continued, "Ling Zhao is dead. The body has been found."
His tone was calm but heavy, like a mountain pressing down.
Chen Qiyue remained unmoved, his face as cold as frost, as if the news were merely the opening scene of a play for him.
He shrugged lightly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes, mocking Han Ling's naïveté.
Han Ling pressed on deliberately, "You and Ling Ning, together with another Celestial Master, killed Ling Zhao and tried to seize his soul."
The air immediately thickened.
Chen Qiyue's expression didn't change at all, still the same indifferent mask, as if none of this concerned him.
Beside him, Hang Zhongxuan raised an eyebrow, a trace of impatience in his voice: "We already confirmed that Ling Ning is dead. The child's gone too."
His gaze turned toward Chen Qiyue, expecting some kind of reaction.
What no one expected was a barely perceptible flicker of joy appearing on Chen Qiyue's face. His eyes curved subtly upward, and he took a deep breath, as if secretly relieved.
On the other side of the glass, Jiang Mingyao and Gu Xingxi whispered: "This man… truly leaves one speechless."
"Showing that expression at a moment like this… he's hardly normal," Gu Xingxi frowned in reply.
Han Ling noticed their reactions and smiled faintly, then quickly masked it, his gaze sharpening.
Finally, he said slowly, "Ling Zhao's soul… isn't in that ring."
This sentence struck Chen Qiyue like a dagger to the nerve.
His eyes instantly twisted into a savage glare. His hands clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles whitened, and he roared, "Damn it! Ling Zhao is right here with me!"
He sprang to his feet, his body taut as if ready to pounce on Han Ling.
His muttering curses were laced with uncontrollable rage and anxiety.
Han Ling did not back down. Instead, he watched him calmly, voice low and resolute: "I'm telling you the truth. He's not there."
At that moment, the air in the interrogation room seemed to freeze. Even the ticking of the clock on the wall grew unnaturally loud.
In the observation room, Lan Qihan gripped her notebook tightly, her eyes flickering with complex emotions, as if trying to decode Chen Qiyue's inscrutable feelings.
Jiang Mingyao's brows knitted deeply, lips moving silently, apparently forming a plan for the next move.
Hang Zhongxuan stood silently to the side, eyes sharp as he scanned the interrogation room, fully aware that this confrontation was far from over—and the real questioning was only just beginning.