By dawn, the menial courtyard was already packed.
Not with allies—but spectators.
People stood three deep at the gate, craning their necks like it was market day. Overnight, Liu San's loose mouth had done exactly what it always did best. Rumors had grown wings.
Ghosts in the C-District.
Vengeful spirits clawing their way out of wells.
Someone secretly cultivating forbidden arts.
The whispers jumped from the outer sect to the inner halls so fast that even the kitchen fire-stokers were gossiping while hauling firewood.
Jiang Muchen sat calmly on a stone bench in the courtyard, sipping thin rice porridge like none of it concerned him.
Wang Duobao paced back and forth beside him, glancing toward the gate every few breaths.
"Brother Jiang… when do you think the Discipline Hall is coming?"
"Soon." Jiang Muchen picked up a piece of pickled vegetable. "Is there more porridge?"
"Brother Jiang, how do you still have an appetite?" Wang Duobao hissed. "What if the Discipline Hall doesn't believe us?"
Jiang Muchen looked up, genuinely puzzled.
"Not believe what?"
"That we—"
"That we were assigned a patrol, encountered actual evil entities, and nearly got murdered in the process?" Jiang Muchen interrupted gently. "That part happens to be the truth."
"But Liu San—"
"Even better." Jiang Muchen set his bowl down. "He took Chen Xuan's money, tried to kill us, failed, and flipped to save his own life. That's a textbook witness."
Nearby, Lu Hanshan wiped his blade clean and nodded.
"With both testimony and evidence, Chen Xuan can't escape this."
Zhou Xiaohuan hesitated, lowering her voice.
"But what about Young Lord Xiao Chen…?"
The courtyard went still.
That name carried weight.
Xiao Chen—young pavilion lord, Heaven-Slaying War Body, peak Foundation Establishment, one step from Core Formation. More than that, he represented an entire class: noble bloodlines, hoarded resources, and people who viewed lowborn cultivators as disposable tools.
"He won't step in over something this small," Jiang Muchen said calmly, rising to his feet.
"To him, Chen Xuan isn't even a dog. When a dog bites someone, the master doesn't come running. He just replaces it with a quieter one."
He glanced toward the gate.
The crowd had grown thicker.
"They're here."
A squad of black-clad Discipline Hall enforcers approached at a brisk pace. At their head walked a middle-aged man with a sword at his waist, expression carved from stone. His aura was restrained but unmistakable—Foundation Establishment at minimum.
The crowd parted instinctively.
He stopped before the courtyard, eyes sweeping across the five of them before settling on Jiang Muchen.
"You are Jiang Muchen?"
"Yes." Jiang Muchen bowed.
"Discipline Hall Enforcer Yan." The man produced his badge. "Regarding last night's incident in the C-District, the Hall Master demands answers. All five of you—come with me."
The tone left no room for refusal.
Wang Duobao's face went pale.
Jiang Muchen, however, smiled politely.
"Thank you for the trouble, Enforcer Yan. We've just finished breakfast, though. Our bowls aren't washed yet. Could we have a moment?"
A ripple of shock went through the onlookers.
Delay a Discipline Hall summons?
Yan's brow furrowed.
"You dare stall the Hall Master's inquiry?"
"I wouldn't dream of it." Jiang Muchen raised both hands, panic carefully measured.
"It's just… we're menials. Dirty clothes, filthy hands. Wouldn't want to soil the Discipline Hall's floor. Let us change first."
Submissive. Respectful.
But pointed.
Yan studied him for several seconds, then chuckled without warmth.
"Fine. Half an incense stick."
"Much obliged."
Inside the room, the door shut.
"That was dangerous," Wang Duobao whispered.
"We needed time," Jiang Muchen replied briskly. "The Hall came too fast. Zhang Yi hasn't arrived yet."
"Arrived with what?"
"With the people who make this unavoidable."
Jiang Muchen changed into a faded robe, rubbed a bit of ash onto his face, and dragged out a small bundle from under the bed.
Inside were three things:
The pouch of spirit stones from Liu San
A fragment of blackened fingernail taken from the water corpse
A hand-drawn map of the C-District, marked with three locations
"Let's go."
The Discipline Hall loomed on the western edge of the outer sect—a dark stone structure flanked by snarling stone beasts. Inside, incense mixed with the faint scent of blood.
Three figures sat upon the dais.
At the center, an elderly man with white hair and closed eyes—his presence vast and heavy. Core Formation.
To his left, a sharp-featured middle-aged woman.
To his right, a one-eyed brute built like a fortress.
"Hall Master," Yan bowed. "They've arrived."
The old man opened his eyes.
His gaze cut like blades.
"Speak," he said hoarsely. "From the beginning."
Jiang Muchen stepped forward.
He told everything.
The patrol.
The water corpse clawing out of the well.
The child's vengeful spirit.
The abandoned building.
The killing array.
Liu San's confession.
Chen Xuan's payment.
He spoke plainly, carefully, truth wrapped in humility.
When he described the pale hand emerging from the well, Zhou Xiaohuan let out a small sob.
When he repeated the spirit's words—"Father locked me inside…"—Zheng Xiaoqi's eyes reddened.
When he spoke of the killing array activating, Lu Hanshan's grip on his sword tightened.
Finally, Jiang Muchen knelt and bowed deeply.
"We are weak. We only wanted to complete our task and earn a few contribution points. If not for sheer luck… we would already be dead."
Silence filled the hall.
The sharp-faced woman spoke.
"You accuse Chen Xuan. Evidence?"
Jiang Muchen produced the pouch.
"These are his advance payments. Ten mid-grade spirit stones. His spiritual imprint is still on them. Liu San is waiting outside."
Yan inspected them and passed them up.
The Hall Master nodded.
"It's his."
The one-eyed man snorted.
"Hardly enough to convict an inner disciple."
"I only tell the truth," Jiang Muchen replied, bowing again. "Judgment rests with the Hall."
"Bring Liu San."
Liu San entered shaking, collapsed to his knees, and confessed everything—money, orders, the killing array, the black market.
Then he blurted, trembling,
"He wanted the alchemist dead because—because his brother needs a Soul-Stabilizing Pill!"
Before he could say more—
Noise erupted outside.
"Hall Master! The Cold-Born Mutual Aid Society has arrived!"
"And Senior Brother Zhang Yi!"
The doors opened.
Zhang Yi entered, pale but steady, followed by over twenty outer disciples. Different halls. Same eyes.
Eyes that had learned how to endure.
"I come to testify," Zhang Yi said.
He laid out the disappearances.
The well corpse's identity.
The burned child.
The former Discipline Vice-Enforcer who once lived in that building.
"This wasn't coincidence," Zhang Yi said slowly.
"Someone was raising evil—to erase inconvenient people."
The hall exploded.
The Hall Master rose.
Orders thundered out.
Names were summoned.
Chains followed.
When it ended, Chen Xuan lay broken on the floor.
Judgment was swift.
Then—
"Jiang Muchen."
"Yes."
"For meritorious service: five hundred contribution points. One hundred spirit stones."
A pause.
"You are promoted to outer disciple."
Jiang Muchen bowed.
"One request."
"…Speak."
"My companions."
The Hall Master studied them, then nodded.
"Three months. Qi Refinement Fourth Layer. Pass the exam."
They all bowed together.
Outside, sunlight burned bright.
Zhang Yi clapped Jiang Muchen's shoulder.
"You've made enemies."
"I know."
A moment later—
A girl approached.
Ice-clear eyes.
Moon-cold presence.
"I need a Soul-Stabilizing Pill," she said.
"I hear you can refine one."
Jiang Muchen smiled.
"Then we should talk."
Tongue Path Maxim · Entry Fifty-Five
Doors are never broken down.
They're opened—by offering the key with both hands, bowing politely, and saying:
'Please. I'll wait outside.'