For a moment, the room was silent.
Then—
all three of them sensed it at once.
A presence, rushing toward them from afar.
Fast.
Unconcealed.
By the time they reached the stone window, a figure was already striding through the night sky, cutting across the darkness as he descended.
The White Lion.
His arrival felt less like a visit
and more like someone kicking open a door.
"Let's go down," Xuán Chén said quietly.
"Whether it's a fight or a conversation, it's rude to keep a guest waiting."
Xiǎo Chén and Bǎishìtōng nodded and followed him downstairs.
——
In front of the stone tower, the three stood facing the White Lion.
"May I ask why President Bai has come so late at night?" Xuán Chén's tone was calm.
The White Lion did not answer immediately.
A heartbeat later, a wild, primal aura erupted from him—
like a beast king awakening, qi surging outward in waves.
Wind roared past.
Bǎishìtōng's expression changed; he immediately circulated his qi to resist.
But Xuán Chén and Xiǎo Chén stood unmoving, letting the gusts sweep past them without so much as blinking.
Moments later, the aura vanished.
The White Lion threw his head back and laughed.
"Excellent. Even with qi crashing like a tide, the two of you remain unfazed. Admirable."
His tone shifted.
"Tell me—do you not think I've come to avenge Cáo Jiànyú?"
Xuán Chén smiled faintly but did not answer.
Xiǎo Chén spoke instead, voice cool:"If you came for revenge, your killing intent wouldn't be this clean."
Only then did Bǎishìtōng realize what he meant.
The White Lion laughed again, louder this time.
"Hahaha! Remarkable."
He cupped his fists, his manner turning open and forthright.
"I've had few worthy opponents in the academy for many years. Seeing the two of you fight recently… my hands have been itching. I was rude earlier—please forgive me."
Xiǎo Chén's eyes flickered, battle intent rising—
but a hand gently stopped him.
Xuán Chén's expression did not change.
"Please speak your true purpose, President Bai."
"If it's just a spar, choose another day.
Neither I nor Xiǎo Chén will avoid a fight."
The White Lion clapped his hands, laughing in delight.
"Good! I'll remember those words."
Then his smile faded, replaced by a rare seriousness.
"I came tonight because there is something important I wish to share with the three of you."
"This matter should not be discussed outside."
Xuán Chén glanced at Xiǎo Chén and Bǎishìtōng.
Both nodded.
He stepped aside and gestured.
"Please."
——
After entering the stone tower, the White Lion did not speak immediately.
He stood in the room, his gaze sweeping over Xuán Chén, Xiǎo Chén, and Bǎishìtōng one by one—
as though reassessing something.
The test outside had already given him his answer; now, he no longer felt the need to rush.
"I'll say this first."
The White Lion finally spoke, his voice lowered a shade.
"What I'm about to tell you is what members of the White‑Black Society saw and heard with their own eyes and ears. No speculation. No conclusions."
Xuán Chén nodded for him to continue.
"The incident happened the day before the duel," the White Lion said.
"Several of our members went out to purchase supplies. They passed by the outskirts of the city's black market."
He paused.
"They shouldn't have seen anything."
Xiǎo Chén's brow twitched, but he remained silent.
"One of them recognized someone walking out of the black market," the White Lion continued.
"A steward from Silver Mirror. That alone was already wrong."
Bǎishìtōng sucked in a breath.
A Silver Mirror steward was, in name, responsible for academy order.
They should have had no dealings with the black market.
"That disciple got the idea of earning merit," the White Lion said evenly, neither praising nor criticizing.
"So he followed from a distance. He didn't dare get too close. He trailed him until the steward entered a secluded courtyard."
The White Lion lifted his eyes toward Xuán Chén.
"There was someone else inside."
Xuán Chén's gaze sharpened.
"Another from Silver Mirror?"
"Yes."
The White Lion nodded.
"The vice‑leader."
The moment those three words fell, the air in the room grew noticeably heavier.
"That disciple saw the steward hand over a small package to the vice‑leader," the White Lion said.
"It wasn't large, but the vice‑leader accepted it personally—and with great caution."
"After that, the disciple didn't dare follow any further," he added calmly.
"He knew that one more step… and he might not return alive."
Bǎishìtōng muttered under his breath,
"He's already got guts…"
The White Lion did not respond.
——
"He returned to the White‑Black Society immediately, hoping to report to me," the White Lion said, his tone sinking slightly.
"But at that time, I wasn't there."
"I was out investigating another lead. And by the time I learned of this—"
He paused for a breath before continuing.
"—the duel had already begun."
There was no resentment in his voice.
No regret.
Only a calm acknowledgment of fact.
"The steward," the White Lion went on, "hasn't been seen since that day."
His words were quiet, yet the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"He's not on the roster. There's no record of reassignment. It's as if he was erased from the academy entirely."
He looked at the three of them.
"The only thing we can confirm is this—
someone knew something would happen before the duel."
Silence settled over the room.
Xuán Chén spoke slowly.
"That package… what was it?"
The White Lion didn't answer directly.
Instead, he asked in return:
"What do you think could give someone—someone who should never have stepped onto a life‑and‑death stage—the confidence to do so?"
Bǎishìtōng's expression darkened, bit by bit.
"The Three‑Turn Soul‑Forcing Pill…" he murmured.
The White Lion nodded.
"I have no proof," he said frankly.
"But if it wasn't that, I can't think of a second possibility."
Xiǎo Chén was silent for a long moment before asking,
"Why tell us this?"
The White Lion didn't answer immediately.
He looked at Xuán Chén, gaze steady.
"Because after watching that duel, I understood something.
If this matter is to be uncovered, the White‑Black Society cannot shoulder it alone."
He paused, then his tone shifted.
"And I don't intend to wait until the next person is pushed onto the stage."
Xuán Chén exhaled softly.
"We'll remember," Xuán Chén said.
The White Lion nodded and rose to his feet.
"I've said all I needed to say."
"From here on… the academy will not be peaceful."
He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway.
"Oh, right."
He didn't look back.
"Tonight, someone from Silver Mirror will likely lose their composure first."
With that, his figure vanished into the night.
Only the three of them remained in the room.
And the brief calm they had enjoyed
had already begun to crack.
——
Two days passed.
After the three of them conducted their investigation, they finally managed to pinpoint the vice‑leader's whereabouts.
Xuán Chén and Xiǎo Chén were just about to find Bǎishìtōng to discuss how to lure him out—
when hurried footsteps suddenly sounded outside the stone tower.
A heartbeat later, Bǎishìtōng practically slammed the door open.
"B‑Bad—bad news—!"
He clutched the doorframe, gasping for breath, face pale.
"I… I just got word…"
His qi stuttered again, throwing off his breath.
"The vice‑leader… at his residence…"
He gritted his teeth, forcing the final words out.
"He… killed himself. Out of guilt."
The room fell silent.
The plan that had just begun to take shape
was snuffed out in an instant.
Xuán Chén exhaled slowly, saying nothing.
Xiǎo Chén stood still, his knuckles tightening faintly.
Bǎishìtōng looked up at the two of them, his voice dropping.
"The news… just spread. He's… already gone."
——
Dawn had not yet broken.
The vice‑leader's residence was already sealed off.
Several academy stewards stood outside the courtyard, their expressions
rigid—clearly acting under direct orders, unwilling to say a word more than necessary.
When Xuán Chén, Xiǎo Chén, and Bǎishìtōng arrived, they saw two figures carrying a stretcher out of the courtyard.
A white cloth covered the face.
Bǎishìtōng halted mid‑step, his expression turning ashen.
"…We're too late," he whispered.
Xuán Chén said nothing.
He simply stood at the gate, looking at the small courtyard.
The doors and windows were neat.
No signs of struggle.
The ground was clean—
not a single drop of blood.
As if someone had deliberately erased every trace.
"They sealed it fast," Xiǎo Chén murmured.
"Too fast…" Bǎishìtōng muttered through clenched teeth.
One of the stewards noticed them and approached quickly, offering a polite bow—though his tone remained formally distant.
"Gentlemen, this case has already been taken over by the academy. Please step back."
Xuán Chén's gaze was calm as he asked,
"Confirmed as suicide?"
The steward hesitated for a moment before replying,
"A note was left at the scene. The manner of death… matches self‑inflicted guilt."
Xuán Chén nodded lightly and asked no further questions.
He knew that asking further would yield nothing but more "procedural" answers.
The three of them turned and walked away.
Behind them, the courtyard gate closed with a dull, muted thud.
After they had walked some distance, Bǎishìtōng finally muttered under his breath,
"This is way too clean…"
Xiǎo Chén didn't respond.
He only glanced back at the courtyard—
a place that no longer belonged to the living.
——
The next morning.
The academy convened an emergency meeting.
Not exactly public, but not hidden either.
Everyone who needed to be there was present.
The vice‑leader's suicide note was read aloud.
The voice was not loud, the tone flat—
yet each line fell like a nail, driven slowly into everyone's ears.
—Admitting to acting alone.
—Harboring resentment over the Xuán‑Star Cave incident.
—Contacting the black market without authorization.
—Delivering the Three‑Turn Soul‑Forcing Pill to Cáo Jiànyú.
—Feeling ashamed before Sītú Jìng and Silver Mirror.
Every sentence pinned the blame down completely.
No deflection.
No accusation.
No thread left to pull.
When the reading ended, the hall fell silent.
Some shook their heads and sighed.
Some whispered quietly.
Some wore complicated expressions.
The White Lion stood to the side, hands clasped behind his back, his face cold—
far too cold for someone listening to a suicide note.
It wasn't anger.
It was the chill of having his instincts denied to his face.
Xuán Chén stood at the back of the crowd, watching quietly.
And suddenly, he understood—
this suicide note wasn't written for the living.
It was written for the system.
As long as the system accepted it,
the truth would never find a way out.
When the reading ended, and silence lingered, someone stepped forward—
Sītú Jìng.
He wore no Silver Mirror uniform today, only plain robes.
His expression was weary.
"This matter is my failure."
His voice was soft, but clear.
"I failed to restrain my subordinate, allowing him to walk this path and cause an irreversible outcome."
He cupped his hands and bowed deeply.
"Silver Mirror is shamed because of me. I no longer have the face to remain in this position."
"From today onward, I resign as chairman of Silver Mirror."
A low ripple spread through the hall.
Some were shocked.
Some regretful.
Some silent.
The White Lion watched him, his gaze cold and unreadable.
And in that moment, he finally understood one thing—
This was not the end.
This was merely the moment
when the battlefield
changed locations.