How to Explain

Setting aside all other titles, Gu Chengyin was the publicly betrothed immortal clan heir to Luo Zhao.

Everyone present knew the temperament of that crown prince.

Cold, arrogant, aloof—unapproachable to all. Not a single minister in the entire court had ever caught her eye.

Yet this very person had taken a liking to Gu Chengyin and had publicly declared their bond.

If Gu Chengyin were truly convicted, and that prince held a grudge against them...

When she eventually ascended to the throne, every single person here would likely be in trouble.

So the best course of action was to play dumb.

Pretend to see nothing, pretend to hear nothing, pretend to be nothing but a passerby filling a seat.

After all, the joint trial by the three ministries only required officials from each department to witness the proceedings.

They had shown up—that was their duty done. What did it matter to them what the final verdict turned out to be?

But while the officials on both sides could play oblivious, those seated at the bench could not.

The Minister of Justice sat there, his gaze darting between the Censor-in-Chief and the Minister of Rites several times.

Suddenly, he stood up, cupped his hands toward Yuan Zhengqing, and said in a loud, clear voice:

“Grand Secretary Yuan.”

“Gu Chengyin serves as the Right Vice Minister of Rites, and this case also involves sect inspections.”

“In this official’s humble opinion, it should be presided over by Minister Cui.”

With those words, every eye in the hall turned to Cui Zhenji, the Minister of Rites.

Cui Zhenji’s face turned green—the color surged up from his neck, spreading instantly across his whole face, even his earlobes tinged with an ashen hue.

He glared at the Minister of Justice, his eyes practically shooting fire.

You crafty old bastard!

Trying to shove this hot potato into my hands, are you?

What “Right Vice Minister of Rites,” what “involving sect inspections”—sounds nice, but you’re just passing the buck to me, aren’t you?

You and the Censorate won’t handle the trial yourselves,

so you want my Ministry of Rites to preside?

When something goes wrong, the stick will fall on my back while you two sit back and watch the show?

Cui Zhenji opened his mouth to retort,

but Yuan Zhengqing’s voice cut in.

“Mm.”

He looked at Cui Zhenji, his expression as calm as still water, revealing nothing.

“Go ahead and conduct the interrogation. You’ll preside.”

Cui Zhenji’s words clogged in his throat, stuck halfway between up and down, choking him until his eyes rolled back.

But since Yuan Zhengqing had spoken, what could he do?

He had no choice but to lower his head stiffly and grind out two words from between clenched teeth:

“As you command.”

Then Cui Zhenji turned his head to look at Gu Chengyin, who sat in a chair at the center of the hall.

Countless thoughts raced through Cui Zhenji’s mind.

Before coming, Cui Shifan had specifically summoned him and given him instructions.

“If you can go harsh, go harsh,” Cui Shifan had said. “This is a rare opportunity. His Majesty wants to rein Gu Chengyin in a bit.”

“As long as the three ministries reach a verdict, things will be easier from there.”

Cui Zhenji had nodded and agreed at the time, but his heart had been pounding.

Go harsh? Easy to say.

This was Gu Chengyin—Luo Zhao’s betrothed.

The one who had single-handedly overturned the entire Xiao clan and led the Crown Prince’s faction in a standoff against the noble houses. A ruthless player like no other.

Was someone like that really so easy to punish harshly?

But Cui Shifan was the head of the Cui clan and Grand Secretary of the Cabinet.

What could he do? He could only steel himself and press on.

Cui Zhenji took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on Gu Chengyin.

“Gu Chengyin.”

His voice tried its best to carry official authority.

“Do you know your crimes?”

The hall fell silent. All eyes were on Gu Chengyin.

Gu Chengyin didn’t answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, perfectly at ease, as if he were sitting in his own living room.

The chair was hard, but he lounged in it like it was plush and soft.

The hall was solemn, but he treated it with casual indifference.

His eyes met Cui Zhenji’s without a flinch.

No panic, no tension—only composure.

That composure was like a mirror, reflecting the unease and guilt lurking beneath Cui Zhenji’s gaze.

It was also like a measuring stick, gauging the gap in presence between the two of them.

After a moment of silence, Gu Chengyin gave a slight shake of his head.

“Minister Cui, that’s not the right way to ask.”

Cui Zhenji was taken aback and couldn’t help responding:

“Not right?”

“Of course not,” Gu Chengyin continued. “You should first tell me what crime I’ve committed.

Then ask me whether I plead guilty or not. How can you just ask the latter right from the start?”

“What if the crime you mention is one I haven’t committed? If I confessed to it, wouldn’t that be an injustice?”

Gu Chengyin leaned forward slightly, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Minister Cui, even a joint trial by the three ministries must follow due process.”

Cui Zhenji’s face turned truly awful.

It shifted from green to red, then red to white, finally settling into an unidentifiable, complicated hue.

He wanted to argue, to accuse Gu Chengyin of sophistry, to wield the authority of the Minister of Rites to suppress him.

But he found himself utterly unable to form a retort.

Because Gu Chengyin was right. According to procedure, the charges should be announced first, then the question of guilt.

By skipping straight to “Do you know your crimes?” he had broken protocol.

This was a joint trial by the three ministries, not a street quarrel. Every step had its rules, every word had its etiquette.

And Cui Zhenji, as Minister of Rites—the one who knew the rules best of all—had violated them right off the bat.

If this got out, where would he hide his face?

But the problem was, within the Great Luo Law, there was no such charge as usurping the position of sect master.

Cui Zhenji’s mind raced, a bitter taste in his heart.

It was like this: he, Cui Zhenji, was the Minister of Rites. If he gave that position to someone else, would that person be considered a usurper of the Minister of Rites post?

No.

Because the position of Minister of Rites wasn’t something just anyone could take up.

It required a memorial from the Ministry of Personnel, approval from the Cabinet, and the scrutiny of the Luo Emperor.

Only after a series of procedures could one formally assume the post.

If no one recognizes you, and there’s no proper process, even if you sit in that seat, you’re just a figurehead.

The Azure Sword Sect wasn’t a government office, but the principle was the same.

Without the agreement of Jiang Qingshan, the original sect master, how could Gu Chengyin, a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator, possibly usurp the sect master’s position from a Golden Core cultivator?

Jiang Qingshan himself had said nothing, yet others jumped out to cry “usurpation.”

Wasn’t that a joke?

So this joint tribunal was utterly absurd from the start.

But since the imperial decree had come down, with Cui Shifan pushing behind the scenes, it had to be carried out.

Why had the Minister of Justice directly appointed him as the chief judge, and Yuan Zhengqing agreed to it?

Wasn’t it because of Cui Shifan’s influence?

Then you, Cui Zhenji, were the one to wield the knife—there was no shirking that duty.

After all, the Cui clan couldn’t do the filthy work and then let others take the blame, could they?

At this thought, Cui Zhenji inwardly cursed the Minister of Justice’s ancestors for eighteen generations.

But cursing was one thing; he still had to get through this trial.

Since they were going to strike at Gu Chengyin, they naturally hadn’t come unprepared.

Cui Zhenji gritted his teeth, steadied himself, and spoke.

“Gu Chengyin.”

His voice was harder than before, carrying a note of burning his bridges.

“Five managing elders of the Azure Sword Sect have jointly submitted a petition.”

“They report that you used your authority to usurp the position of sect master of the Azure Sword Sect.”

Cui Zhenji paused, his gaze like a dagger, stabbing toward Gu Chengyin.

“What do you have to say for yourself!”