Ye Fan's palm pressed down. Soul Bewitchment Art(Psychic Combat Art) surged. Vital energy flooded Ye Feng's mind.
Moments later, Ye Feng's eyes glazed over. Every detail spilled out—the plot laid bare.
"Lin Mucheng introduced us... Ye Feng and I grew close..."
"...When he learned of my betrothal to you... rage consumed him..."
"Ye Linglong devised the ambush... Ye Xing revealed your patrol schedule..."
"...Skybeast Mountain... Shattered your dantian... Left you for dead..."
Just as Ye Fan suspected.
A twist of his wrist. CRACK.
Ye Feng's neck snapped.
Ye Fan returned to his chamber. To Su Xi, voice low:
"Scream for help when I signal."
He raised his right arm. Shattering Stone Palm gathered force.
THUD!
Bone fractured. He collapsed near the courtyard gate.
"ASSASSINS! HELP! THEY'VE KILLED YOUNG MASTER YE FENG!"
Su Xi's shriek pierced the night.
Luo Fu's earlier spite proved fortuitous—he'd cleared the area of guards. No witnesses.
Patrols came running.
News detonated across the capital:
Lin Mucheng ambushed Ye Feng in Ye Fan's courtyard!
Lin Mucheng and Ye Xing slew each other in the struggle!
The Lin Patriarch, Lin Teng, stormed the Ye estate at dawn, face thunderous.
"SURRENDER THE MURDERER! OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES!"
Chaos engulfed the Ye clan. Ye Feng—main lineage heir—dead in a branch disciple's yard?
Suspicion arrowed toward Ye Fan.
Patriarch Ye Qingtian summoned the Disciplinary Guard.
"Drag the cripple to the Grand Hall. Now."
Grand Hall. Judgment Seat.
Ye Qingtian loomed on the dais. Four elders flanked him, faces carved from stone.
Opposite: The Lin delegation. Patriarch Lin Teng. Stone-faced elders.
And her.
Lin Muxue.
Jade-green robes flowed like water. A slender sword gleamed at her hip. Above her heart—a silver starburst emblem, badge of the Dao Academy.
Cold. Perfect. Untouchable.
Ye Fan entered. Every eye locked onto him. He offered a shallow bow. Stood. Silent.
Ye Qingtian's voice cracked like a whip:
"Ye Fan! Confess your crimes! Why murder Ye Feng and Lin Mucheng?"
Ye Fan's smile was a razor-cut. He gestured to his mangled right arm.
"Patriarch... observe. Does this look like the limb of a killer?"
"INSOLENT WRETCH!" Ye Qingtian roared, slamming his fist. "Ye Feng trusted you! A cripple's dagger in the dark requires no strength! ADMIT IT!"
His gaze turned venomous. "Or must I extract the truth... through your mother's suffering?"
Rage, cold and molten, surged in Ye Fan's veins. Reborn... yet this poison still festers.
In his past life, this hall was sacred ground. Now?
A den of serpents.
Not one elder spoke. Their silence screamed condemnation.
Sacrifice the cripple. Appease the Lin. Preserve the clan's facade.
His "heroism"—sacrificing his cultivation for Ye Linglong—meant less than dust.
"Clarify, Patriarch." Ye Fan's voice cut the thick air. "If I deny the killings... you execute my mother and me?"
Ye Qingtian's face darkened to stormcloud purple.
Lin Teng barked a laugh, flinging a scroll onto the central table.
"Spare the theatrics, Ye Qingtian! Were Ye Feng not also cooling in your morgue, my warriors would be painting your gates red.**"
He stabbed a finger at the document. "Compensation. Sign it. Or taste Lin steel."
Ye Qingtian snatched the scroll. His eyes scanned the terms—jade spirit mines, ancestral artifacts. Jaw muscles bulged. A hissed, frantic conference with the elders.
"...We accept."
His glare at Ye Fan promised slow death. Admit guilt, dog. Spare us this plunder.
Ye Fan met the glare. Unblinking.
Lin Teng nodded, satisfaction thin on his lips. "One final matter."
A flick of his wrist. Lin Muxue rose.
Silk whispered as she glided forward, a vision of disdain. Her eyes swept over Ye Fan—a cockroach on fine silk.
She offered Ye Qingtian a bow so shallow it bordered on insult.
"Ah!" The Patriarch's eyes widened—feigned surprise. "The Dao Academy's Starburst! Forgive my oversight, Niece Muxue! Heaven's favor truly shines upon you!"
A ripple of awe passed through the hall. Dao Academy.
One of the Four Great Academies of the Eastern Spirit Realm. Power transcending kingdoms. Second only to the Sword Sovereign's dominion.
Her status now eclipsed his own.
"Fortune's fleeting smile, Uncle Ye." Her tone was glacial water. "I require your assistance today."
"Name it, honored niece!" Ye Qingtian spread his hands, oozing syrupy warmth. "The Ye and Lin stand united!"
"The engagement."
The words fell like tombstones.
"My grandfather's... sentimental folly. Binding me to Ye Fan."
Her lip curled, exposing perfect teeth. "I sever it."
Elder faces flushed beet-red. A collective gasp sucked the air from the hall.
Public repudiation? In the Grand Hall?
This wasn't negotiation. It was desecration.
Lin Muxue stood unmoved, a statue of contempt. A Dao Academy disciple bowed to no mortal clan's pride.
She'd only come personally out of lingering loyalty to the dead Ye Linglong... and the ghost of what might have been with Ye Feng.
Ye Qingtian's knuckles cracked on the armrest. His fury refocused—a laser on Ye Fan.
This gutter rat caused it all.
His defiance. This humiliation.
The betrothal's origin mocked them:
Years ago, Ye Fan's wandering father, Ye Songyuan, snatched Patriarch Lin Cang from the jaws of a Void Refining demon-beast.
A life-debt sworn. A bond forged across generations.
The marriage pact sealed it—elevating a branch nobody to Lin royalty.
Lin Muxue's voice rang, sharp and final as a headsman's axe:
"I. Will. Not. Marry. Scrap."