Inside the Soaring Heaven Palace, the air seemed to have frozen into solid ice.
After Qin Ao declared the matter "postponed," his cold, scrutinizing gaze pressed down upon Ye Fan like physical shackles.
The Crown Prince position that had been within his grasp was now suddenly unreachable. Worse still, the suspicion of "regicide and usurpation" hung over his head like the Sword of Damocles.
The Ten Holy Sons stood on either side, their gazes entirely undisguised.
Zhan Wuji wore a smirk of undisguised mockery and delight, as if savoring a drama he had long anticipated.
The other Holy Sons were either cold as frost, indifferent, or showed some curiosity—but without exception, they all observed with the detached superiority of spectators.
Ling Guzi stood with hands lowered and a placid expression, as though he hadn't been the one to drop thunder just moments ago.
Ye Fan could clearly feel the position and trust he had painstakingly built over the years crumbling at a visible rate.
He didn't even need to be proven guilty. Once such suspicion took root, what awaited him would be eternal damnation.
Ling Guzi's "poisoning" accusation was devastating in both timing and angle—it had nearly driven him into a dead end!
Cold sweat instantly soaked through Ye Fan's inner garment. He knew he could wait no longer! He had to take a desperate gamble—he had to immediately reverse this fatal situation!
Just as Qin Ao's icy gaze swept the hall and the oppressive atmosphere reached its peak, right at the critical moment when the order to arrest him for investigation was about to be given—
"Imperial Father!"
Ye Fan snapped his head up. His voice, raw from extreme tension and resolve, carried clearly through the silent hall.
He no longer knelt prostrate but straightened his spine. Though pale-faced, his eyes blazed with the madness of a man with his back to the wall and...
"Immortal Venerable Ling Guzi accuses this son of being the one who poisoned you. This son has no way to defend himself!" His voice trembled, yet his gaze met Qin Ao's without flinching. "To prove my innocence, to demonstrate that this son bears absolutely no disloyalty toward the Imperial Father, I... am willing to submit to the Soul Search Art before this assembly!"
"What?!"
"Soul Search?!"
These words sent shockwaves through the entire hall! Even the Ten Holy Sons, who had been watching coldly, showed expressions of astonishment.
The Soul Search Art was one of the most brutal and inviolable forbidden techniques in the cultivation world!
This method directly probed the deepest depths of a cultivator's soul, leaving all memories and secrets utterly exposed!
The process was excruciating beyond description, causing irreversible damage to the soul's origin. At worst, one's cultivation would plummet. At absolute worst, one would be reduced to a mindless fool!
No one would propose or submit to such a method unless driven by deep hatred or extreme circumstances!
The coldness and scrutiny on Qin Ao's face were instantly replaced by profound shock.
He stared at Ye Fan, as if trying to read something in those eyes that appeared open yet concealed raging storms beneath.
"Ye Fan... do you know what you are saying? Do you know what a Soul Search entails?"
Ye Fan kowtowed heavily, his forehead striking the cold floor with a dull thud.
He raised his head, bloodshot eyes gleaming, his voice carrying an almost tragically heroic resolve: "This son knows! This son knows better than anyone!"
"Under the Soul Search, I will have no secrets before the Imperial Father! Everything in my past, every thought in my heart, will be laid bare like blank paper before your eyes!"
His tone shifted, becoming immensely impassioned and "sincere": "But! This son submits willingly! This son's loyalty to the Imperial Father can be witnessed by heaven and earth, testified by sun and moon!"
"If mere suspicion causes the Imperial Father to harbor doubt, shaking the very foundation of the Holy Dynasty, then ten thousand deaths would not atone for this son's guilt!"
"Only this method can prove my innocence and set the Imperial Father's heart at ease! I beg the Imperial Father's permission!"
Ye Fan was gambling! He was making an all-or-nothing bet!
He wasn't betting that Qin Ao would soften his heart. He was betting on an even greater secret—the truth of the game between the upper and lower realms!
He knew full well that the Ten Holy Sons, as pawns of the upper realm, would never want Qin Ao—this crucial "proxy"—to learn that he himself, and indeed the entire Spirit Realm, were merely pieces on a larger chessboard!
Given Qin Ao's domineering and proud nature, if he were to discover the truth—if he learned that his magnificent life had been orchestrated and manipulated by others—what kind of frenzied reaction would he have?
Would the entire Holy Dynasty instantly collapse?
Would the upper realm's plans fall short at the final hurdle?
Would the Ten Holy Sons, especially Ling Guzi who had masterminded this, dare to take that risk? Would they dare let the Soul Searcher touch the parts of Ye Fan's memory concerning the truth of the game?
Qin Ao's profound gaze was like a sharp sword, as if trying to pierce through Ye Fan's very soul.
He looked at Ye Fan's facade of "selfless openness" and "willing sacrifice," and indeed, massive waves surged in his heart.
A Soul Search—this was almost the ultimate declaration of "loyalty" a subject could make.
If Ye Fan had something to hide, he would never dare propose such a method. Could it be... that the poisoning truly had another explanation? Had he wronged him?
This sudden "pledge of death to prove innocence" caused the scales of suspicion in Qin Ao's heart to violently waver for the first time.
He remained silent. The hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Every eye was fixed upon this "father and son."
After a long while, Qin Ao finally spoke, his voice carrying a complicated rasp: "You... must think this through carefully. Once the Soul Search begins, there is no turning back."
"This son has no regrets!" Ye Fan declared without hesitation.
"...Granted." Qin Ao finally uttered the word.
He needed the truth, and the Soul Search was the most direct, most brutal, and most "reliable" way to obtain it.
With the decree issued, the next question was—who would perform the Soul Search?
Every gaze shifted once more.
The Soul Search was no simple feat. It demanded extraordinary skill from the caster.
During the process, if the caster harbored even the slightest ill intent, they could distort memory fragments—or worse, directly shatter the subject's mind!
Whoever performed it would virtually determine Ye Fan's life or death and what the "truth" would look like!
Zhan Wuji's eyes glinted with a bloodthirsty light, clearly itching to "volunteer."
Ling Guzi also raised his eyes slightly, evidently intending to take charge, ensuring that the "truth" he had accused would be "perfectly" presented.
Ye Fan's heart leaped into his throat. If either of them performed it, he was dead no matter what!
Just as this delicate and tense moment reached its peak, a voice cold and devoid of all emotion once again rang out unexpectedly, breaking the deadlock:
"—I will do it."
Everyone turned. The speaker was the most mysterious and aloof among the Ten Holy Sons—Zhu Qingcheng.
She stepped forward slowly, her white dress trailing across the floor. Her face remained as flawlessly frozen as ever, her hollow eyes sweeping over the assembly before settling on Qin Ao.
Her voice was utterly flat: "I cultivate the Ruthless Dao, having severed all seven emotions and six desires. I am impartial and can eliminate all selfish distractions."
"If I perform the technique, I can guarantee absolute fairness in the Soul Search process. What is seen is what is—no memories will be tampered with or guided. The results will be credible."
The Ruthless Dao!
These three words carried immense persuasive power.
A practitioner of this path had emotions so detached they were nearly akin to the Heavenly Dao's rules themselves. Having her perform the Soul Search was indeed the best guarantee of "fairness."
Even Zhan Wuji and Ling Guzi, who were bent on destroying Ye Fan, though unwilling, could find no grounds to object. After all, if they insisted on performing it themselves, it would only make them appear guilty—as if they had something to hide.
Qin Ao looked at Zhu Qingcheng, then at the pale-faced Ye Fan below.
After a moment's contemplation, he nodded. "Very well. I leave it to you, Qingcheng."
Zhu Qingcheng gave a slight nod and said nothing more, walking toward Ye Fan at the center of the hall.
She stopped before him, looking down from above. Ye Fan could clearly sense the cold, desolate aura emanating from her. He raised his head and met those hollow eyes that seemed capable of devouring everything.
Zhu Qingcheng's voice carried no warmth whatsoever, like a pronouncement of judgment:
"Ye Fan, relax your mind. Do not resist. I... am about to begin."
At her fingertip, a point of pure white and icy light condensed, slowly pressing toward the center of Ye Fan's brow. That light seemed faint, yet it contained the supreme power to probe the very origin of the soul.
Ye Fan closed his eyes. Every muscle in his body was taut, yet he forced himself to relax. He could feel that lethal chill drawing closer and closer, and his soul shuddered with primal terror.
The gamble had begun.
The stakes were his life, his memories, and the most untouchable forbidden truth in this intricate game of chess.
In the next moment, his entire world would be laid utterly bare.
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