Cui Zhenji’s steps felt weightless as he emerged from the Cabinet.
The afternoon sunlight fell upon him, carrying a hint of warmth, yet he couldn’t shake the chill creeping down his spine. Beads of sweat clung to his temples; the wind caught them, and he couldn’t help shivering.
Whom had he just met?
Cui Shifan.
What did he say?
He reported the progress of the joint trial by the Three Judicial Offices, and the peculiar collusion he suspected between Gu Chengyin and Jiang Jianli.
And then?
Then Cui Shifan patted his shoulder, using that perpetually gentle tone of his, and spoke a few words that left Cui Zhenji still reeling:
“Zhenji, in the upcoming proceedings, lean toward leniency wherever possible.”
“The Great Luo Code has no charge for usurping the clan hierarchy, and Gu Chengyin is the Crown Prince’s Junior Mentor—his dignity must be preserved.”
Cui Zhenji recalled freezing in place.
What did he mean, “lean toward severity”…
No, wait—lean toward leniency?
Opening his mouth, Cui Zhenji started to say that wasn’t what you told me earlier. But the words caught in his throat and died there.
Because the look in Cui Shifan’s eyes was calm as still water, utterly devoid of any surplus emotion. That look plainly told him: Just do it. No need for questions.
Yet the confusion churning in Cui Zhenji’s chest bubbled up like boiling water, burbling relentlessly.
Who had told him earlier to lean toward severity whenever possible?
Cui Shifan.
He had followed through, even if the execution wasn’t elegant—at least he’d done it.
Now, in this halftime lull, how had the wind suddenly shifted?
From severity to leniency.
Cui Zhenji couldn’t fathom it.
But he knew this much: anything capable of making Cui Shifan do a one-eighty turn was no small matter.
Standing on the steps outside the Cabinet, gazing at the layered palace halls in the distance, Cui Zhenji suddenly felt like a speck of dust within this vast Imperial City.
Forget it.
Since he couldn’t figure it out, let it go.
Just follow orders.
Drawing a deep breath, he straightened his official robe and stepped toward the Censorate.
Halfway there, he slowed his pace.
Because another thought struck him.
Earlier in the Cabinet, he had fully reported his suspicion that Gu Chengyin and Jiang Jianli were likely in league.
He had assumed the Grand Secretary would be shocked, outraged, pressing him for more details. After all, that kind of revelation made this case far more complicated than it appeared on the surface.
But Cui Shifan hadn’t reacted at all.
He simply nodded slightly, his expression betraying not a trace of surprise—as if it were exactly what he had expected.
“Understood.”
Three words. That was it.
Then Cui Shifan had clapped his shoulder, abruptly changing the subject to something completely unrelated:
“By the way, Zhenji. Your youngest son will be taking the imperial exams this year, isn’t that right?”
“I hear he’s gifted in his studies—a promising talent.”
“A father like you shouldn’t be so buried in official work all the time; you ought to pay more attention to family matters.”
At the time, Cui Zhenji took it as the clan head showing concern for a junior, so he felt a warmth in his heart and hurriedly expressed his thanks.
But now, chewing on those words, the more he pondered them, the more uneasy he grew.
Out of nowhere, why bring up his youngest son?
And what was that about not getting too wrapped up in public affairs? That was clearly a veiled hint!
Could it be that Cui Shifan had struck some deal with Gu Chengyin…
And made him—the Minister of Rites—the bargaining chip?
Cui Zhenji knew how absurd that suspicion was.
Minister of Rites. One of the six ministries—a top-tier official.
How could a post like that be casually traded away?
Yet Cui Zhenji also understood that in the Imperial Court, nothing was truly impossible.
What mattered within the court often came from forces outside it.
Gu Chengyin must have sent someone to meet Cui Shifan, made some exchange, and Cui Shifan agreed.
That was why his stance had done a one-eighty—from “lean toward severity” to “lean toward leniency.”
And he, Cui Zhenji—Minister of Rites, one of the presiding judges of the joint court—had been nothing but a bargaining chip in that deal the entire time.
After all this effort, the one on trial was fine, while the judge was out of the game first.
What kind of reasoning was that?
When Cui Zhenji returned to his seat, the official’s chair that had always felt comfortable was now grating against him from every angle.
He lowered his eyelids, masking the turbulent thoughts beneath, his hands clasps in his sleeves, his fists clenched without his even noticing.
But what could he do?
No matter his resentment or dissatisfaction, when it came to a decision by Cui Shifan, all he could do was accept.
Because he was a man of the Cui clan.
From the day he stepped into officialdom, everything about him had been bound together with the Cui clan.
When the clan head made a decision, questions and confusion were permitted—but defiance was not.
Because the cost of defiance was something Cui Zhenji couldn’t afford.
Besides…
Cui Zhenji recalled the look in Cui Shifan’s eyes when he’d mentioned his son.
Step down as Minister of Rites, and in return, his descendants would be compensated all the more.
That was Cui Shifan’s promise—and also his warning.
Cui Zhenji closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
When he opened them again moments later, the turbulent emotions had been thoroughly concealed, leaving only a blank calm.
Accept it.
Half an hour passed in a flash.
The attending officials seated in the gallery had gradually all arrived, whispering among themselves in twos and threes, discussing the morning's proceedings.
Cui Zhenji paid them no heed, sitting upright in his seat.
Before long, footsteps sounded.
The Minister of Justice entered through the side door, his expression neutral, revealing neither pleasure nor displeasure.
He walked to his seat and gave Cui Zhenji a slight nod, a perfunctory greeting.
Another quarter-hour passed before footsteps sounded again.
This time, it was the Censor-in-Chief, along with Yuan Zhengqing, who entered.
The moment he appeared, the hall, which had been humming with murmurs, fell instantly silent.
As Yuan Zhengqing took his seat, his gaze swept coolly across the gallery and the hall.
Finally, his eyes landed on the Censor-in-Chief, and he gave a slight nod.
The Censor-in-Chief slowly rose and made a formal bow to Yuan Zhengqing.
In a voice neither too loud nor too soft—just enough for the entire hall to hear—he said: "Grand Secretary Yuan, we have already discussed the matter."
"The evidence in this case is insufficient, so our conclusion is..."
"Gu Chengyin did not usurp the position of Sect Leader of the Green Sword Sect."
Hearing this, Cui Zhenji blinked.
Discussed? With whom? When? And why hadn't he been informed?
Cui Zhenji instinctively turned his head to look at the Minister of Justice, only to find the man sitting like a stone statue, eyes on his nose, nose on his heart, as if he had long anticipated this.
Cui Zhenji's Adam's apple moved slightly. He shifted his gaze to Yuan Zhengqing. Words rose to his lips, but in the end, he did not interrupt.
Without Yuan Zhengqing’s consent, the Censor-in-Chief would never dare to speak such words.
As for why they were unafraid that he might interrupt—
Cui Zhenji lowered his eyes. Clearly, Cui Shifan had already smoothed things over behind the scenes.
Yuan Zhengqing gave a slight nod, his tone as flat as during a routine court discussion: "Then so be it."
The Censor-in-Chief nodded, then swept his gaze across the Minister of Justice and Cui Zhenji.
Seeing that neither objected, he picked up the gavel and struck it down, delivering the final verdict:
"Gu Chengyin, acquitted and released."
The gavel fell, and silence gripped the hall.
The attending officials exchanged glances. No one had expected that, having just begun, the second half of the trial was already over.
It was as if a grand drama, building momentum for its opening, had abruptly closed its curtains before the first act.
Leaving all those who had come to watch an eagerly awaited spectacle completely blindsided.
Gu Chengyin, for his part, merely brushed off his sleeves, then unhurriedly clasped his hands toward Yuan Zhengqing.
With a calm expression, he said, "Grand Secretary Yuan, I take my leave."
Yuan Zhengqing nodded, uttering only a single word: "Mm."
Gu Chengyin said no more, turned, and strode toward the exit.
Since the Three Judicial Offices had concluded their hearing,
it was time to return to the Crown Prince’s Palace.
he colors of other people’s emotions. Light red meant anxiety. Gray meant exhaustion. Orange meant excitement. Yellow... meant repression. At the same time, he could gain unlimited control over one of those colors. Pale cyan: relaxation. Using this ability, he started offering “two-yuan hugs,” spending an afternoon exchanging emotional-color experiences with others. Then came his final female customer of the day— a girl whose emotional color was pure black... —— A week later, Xu Chuan had become skilled at using pale cyan—Relaxation—treating it like a bottle of menthol balm whenever he needed it. That was when he discovered he had unlocked another unlimited emotional color: Purple, the color of fear. So these emotional colors refresh every week? Fine, I take it back—I’ll never call you useless again... —— Much later, after Xu Chuan had accumulated countless emotional abilities, one night, he suddenly found himself inside someone else’s dream. There, he could use the emotional colors he possessed to paint. And in her dream, he painted her a shower of pink shooting stars, spreading across the depths of the night sky...
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
m back to his original world. In the end, he realized he had overthought things. [Hey, why is Shen Manni, the female lead, acting strange? Shouldn't she be fawning over the male lead at this point?] [Zhou Qiaoqiao, are you sick? Weren't you supposed to break off your engagement today?] [Damn it! An Youyi, please do your job as an undercover agent and sell my information to the protagonist, you idiot!] ... At this moment, Xu Mo himself didn't know that these female leads had already heard his inner thoughts. Then they decided not to play by the rules. Xu Mo: Please respect my profession as the big villain!
s + Rent Collection Wealth】 At the start, he inherited a rundown house in the urban village from his grandfather. The house had no tenants, but the moment he was diagnosed with a terminal illness, a self-proclaimed empress from the Tianxuan Continent arrived as his first tenant. Ye Chuan soon discovered that with every new tenant moving in, not only did he receive massive daily payments, but he also obtained unique items related to their backgrounds. 【Acquired Bai Qianshuang’s related item: Tiger Strength Pill—dramatically enhances physical power!】 【Acquired Bai Qianshuang’s related item: Deer Blood Pill—significantly boosts vitality!】 …… From that day on, all sorts of bizarre tenants began appearing in the house: the empress from Tianxuan Continent, an apocalyptic sorceress from the Magic Realm, a mysterious scientific girl who fell through a spacetime rift… Every single day, he received strange, powerful items and endless money. Then one day, he suddenly realized—he had become invincible. Enough, enough! Stop giving me more!
