Early the next morning, Ming Zhu was jolted awake from a heavy sleep by an elbow to his side.
Shen Di’an, his face alight with excitement, was tugging at his quilt. "Senior Brother! Wake up, quickly! Let’s go to morning class together!"
Ming Zhu: "..."
If it weren't for the way Shen Di’an’s eyes were sparkling with glee, Ming Zhu might have mistaken him for Zhou Fuxue—who used to come every morning to drag him to class, rain or shine.
Dazed and bleary-eyed, Ming Zhu was hauled out of bed. "I’m still sick," he mumbled. "I don’t want to go."
"Don't be like that," Shen Di’an urged. "You absolutely have to go today. There’s a great show to watch!"
Ming Zhu’s interest was instantly piqued, and he snapped wide awake.
Shen Di’an grinned. "I heard they found the culprit who spread the rumors about you and Master. Today, at Little Martial Uncle’s morning class, they’re going to confess and take their punishment in front of all the disciples from the West and North Mountains."
In a blur of motion, Ming Zhu changed his clothes and washed up with dizzying speed. Without even drying his face, he and Shen Di’an drifted like ghosts all the way to Wujiu Hall.
The sun was barely up, and there were still fifteen minutes before class began, yet Wujiu Hall was already packed. Everyone was wearing the same expression of eager anticipation, clearly there for the spectacle.
The inner disciples of the North Mountain were unusually harmonious this time. As soon as Ming Zhu and Shen Di’an entered, someone seated by the wall waved them over. "Over here."
Ming Zhu looked over and felt as if the sun was rising from the west. Seated side-by-side at a row of wooden desks were Yi Fuju, Yan Xueyu, Shang Yanfeng, and Zhou Fuxue. Two empty seats had been left beside them, clearly reserved for the latecomers.
Ming Zhu walked over in a daze and sat down next to Yi Fuju. "Why are you all sitting together today?" he asked curiously.
Shang Yanfeng leaned across Yi Fuju, grabbing Ming Zhu’s chin to inspect his face from every angle. Only after confirming that the wounds were healing slowly did he relax and sit back.
"Is it that surprising to see us together?" Shang Yanfeng raised an eyebrow slightly. "After all, the three of us caught the rumor-monger together."
Shen Di’an leaned on the table, his eyes shining as he looked at Shang Yanfeng. "Hey, hey, who is it? I’m dying to know! By the way, where’s Ninth Senior Brother? Why isn't he here?"
Yi Fuju wore a smile of compassionate grace. He curved his long, fair fingers and slowly tapped out a melody on the wooden table.
Shen Di’an: "..."
Ming Zhu: "..."
After a moment of stunned silence, Ming Zhu suddenly slapped the table. "Quick, quick! Does anyone have a Sound-Gathering Formation?!"
The others slowly shook their heads.
Ming Zhu immediately stood up and called out, "Junior brothers and sisters! Did anyone bring a Sound-Gathering Formation today? Could you lend one to your Eldest Senior Brother?"
Ming Zhu was extremely popular on the West Mountain. Even with his face currently marred, his charm remained undiminished. The moment he spoke, a group of female cultivators crowded forward, chirping happily, "Senior Brother, I have one!"
A moment later, Ming Zhu had collected several Sound-Gathering Formations. Upon closer inspection, there were even two extremely rare Shadow-Recording Beads.
"What do you need all this stuff for?" Shen Di’an asked.
Ming Zhu tossed a Shadow-Recording Bead to him and urged, "Hurry, go place this bead in the center of the front row. Make sure it’s aimed right at Little Martial Uncle’s lectern."
Shen Di’an, being cut from the same cloth, immediately understood the plan. He scurried off to place the bead on the front desk. Ming Zhu also ran forward, placing several Sound-Gathering Formations on the floor and pressing the other Shadow-Recording Bead against the wall.
The two of them bustled about as if no one else were there, only scurrying back to their seats just as the morning class was about to begin.
This was perhaps the most unified the inner disciples of Rizhao had ever been. Lu Qingkong truly deserved the credit for this feat.
Ming Zhu’s eyes were bright as he whispered to Shen Di’an, "Old Nine used a Sound-Gathering Formation to prank me once. This time, I’m finally going to get my revenge."
Shen Di’an was laughing so hard he nearly fell off his stool, clutching the table to keep himself upright.
Soon, Little Martial Uncle walked in with light, airy steps. He stood before the lectern and smiled softly. "Good morning, everyone."
"Good morning, Little Martial Uncle."
Gu He glanced at the six inner disciples sitting in a neat row, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes.
Then, for some reason, Mister Blade also entered Wujiu Hall. He stood by the doorframe with his arms crossed, his face cold and silent.
Gu He’s voice was tiny, a mere hum. "Today, we shall discuss the first volume of the *Scripture of the Hidden Accordance*..."
Everyone looked at Gu He with bated breath.
Halfway through his sentence, Gu He seemed to remember something. "Ah," he said. "Right. Before we begin the lecture, there is something I need to address."
The six refined scoundrels in the back row perked up instantly. *Here it comes!* they thought.
"I believe you have all heard some rather... bizarre rumors over the past few days," Gu He said softly. Fortunately, the hall was so silent that everyone could hear him clearly. "Those rumors are entirely false. The person who spread them acted with malicious intent; such behavior is truly appalling..."
Gu He had a gentle personality and wasn't suited for harsh words. These lines had likely been fed to him by Guining Zhenren. He got stuck halfway through, looked down to flip through his notes, and then continued: "...Shang Yanfeng spent a whole day capturing the culprit. The Sect Leader of Rizhao will surely punish them severely. I hope all disciples will watch their words and actions in the future. Do not spread false information, lest you invite disaster."
Yi Fuju raised a finger and tapped his lips, signaling: *Disaster comes from the mouth.*
Ming Zhu nudged him with an elbow and signaled back in secret hand-signs: *Don't you dare trick the other disciples into learning Silent Zen with you. Hand-signs and qin-speech are hard to learn, okay?*
Yi Fuju’s eyes crinkled with a smile.
"...Since the disciples of both the West and North Mountains are gathered here today, the punishment shall be carried out in the lecture hall as a warning to others."
Having finished his speech, Gu He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He stepped aside and spoke softly toward the door, "Come in."
Then, Lu Qingkong walked in, dressed in his Rizhao uniform. His expression was dark as he approached, carrying a scroll in his hands.
Seeing Lu Qingkong’s miserable face, Shen Di’an nearly burst out laughing, but Ming Zhu was quick enough to clap a hand over his mouth.
Ming Zhu: "No, you don't want to laugh!"
Shen Di’an nodded frantically.
The moment Lu Qingkong appeared, Wujiu Hall erupted like a boiling pot. A massive "Whoosh" of chatter broke out.
"Wow! It’s actually Ninth Senior Brother!"
"Hahaha, I knew it! Only Ninth Senior Brother has that kind of reach. Eighty or ninety percent of the rumors on Rizhao Mountain come from him."
"Heavens, what is that scroll in his hand? Didn't Little Martial Uncle say there would be a punishment?"
The crowd was rowdy, offering a mix of mockery, amusement, and even a bit of pity.
Fortunately, Lu Qingkong was thick-skinned. He stood by the lectern with a blank face, his gaze sweeping over the crowd like a cold blade.
Ming Zhu reached across Yi Fuju and shook Shang Yanfeng’s arm.
Shang Yanfeng understood immediately. With a flick of his finger, a spark of spiritual energy flew toward the two Shadow-Recording Beads. A moment later, the beads began to glow faintly, recording the scene.
Amidst the noise, Lu Qingkong coldly untied the string around the scroll. He gripped the wooden rollers and gave it a sharp flick. With a loud *snap*, the scroll—half an arm's width and nearly ten feet long—unfurled in mid-air. It sprawled across the small lectern, with the excess length piling onto the floor. Those sitting close enough could see that it was covered in dense, tiny handwriting.
Ming Zhu grabbed Yi Fuju’s hand and tapped out a question on his palm: *What is that?*
Yi Fuju tapped back: *A confession. I heard Qingkong spent the entire night writing it.*
Ming Zhu: "Pfft..."
Lu Qingkong ignored the uproar. He looked down at the confession in his hands, and once the crowd gradually quieted, he spoke coldly.
His first words were: "I plead guilty."
Everyone struggled to suppress their laughter.
Lu Qingkong took a deep breath and continued, "I plead guilty. Rumors have run rampant on Rizhao, and we are now mending the fold after the sheep are lost, all because the original source of this disaster was me alone."
As he read the first line, the audience dissolved into laughter. Someone even shouted, "Ninth Senior Brother, why don't you tell us exactly what you did wrong?"
Lu Qingkong sneered. "My mistake was having eyes but failing to see. I treated rats and sparrows as confidants. One may paint a tiger's skin but not its bones; one may know a man's face but not his heart. Despite years of companionship, I failed to recognize their wolfish cruelty and fell into their trap, which is why I am standing here reading this ridiculous confession."
A hush fell over Wujiu Hall.
Ming Zhu felt that things were taking a turn for the worse. He exchanged looks with his other junior brothers, then looked at the coldness in Lu Qingkong’s eyes. He suddenly had a very bad feeling.
After finishing his sentence, Lu Qingkong actually smirked. He glanced at the six brothers sitting together and lightly tapped his fingers twice on the lectern.
Ming Zhu and the others: "..."
Yi Fuju had practiced Silent Zen since childhood. In the beginning, Ming Zhu had communicated with him through random gestures or pen and paper. Later, when Yan Xueyu arrived, his poor eyesight meant the two of them often just sat facing each other in blank silence.
To make communication easier, the inner disciples of Rizhao had eventually devised a method of conversing through qin notes. Aside from them, no one else understood the meaning of those taps.
*You want me to take the fall? Fine. Let’s all die together.*
Shen Di’an whispered, "Did I hear that right?"
Ming Zhu shushed him, signaling for him to keep watching.
With a sharp flick of his arm, Lu Qingkong sent the confession flying into the air, where it hovered, swaying slightly. With a cold, mocking smile, he said, "This is a record of every single word I have said to any Rizhao disciple up until yesterday..."
The crowd erupted again. A disciple in the front row whispered, "I didn't realize Ninth Senior Brother was such a chatterbox, to have said so much..."
Hearing this, Lu Qingkong immediately glared at him before finishing his sentence: "...and the names of the people I said them to."
Lu Qingkong had a "waste" spiritual root and low cultivation; his only real strengths were his wit and his clever hands. In a single day, he had recalled every conversation and every name with perfect clarity and written them all down on that massive "confession."
Gu He clearly hadn't expected Lu Qingkong to pull a stunt like this. He blinked, then asked softly, "Qingkong, what do you mean by this?"
Lu Qingkong pointed to the floating scroll. "Little Martial Uncle can take a look. The names, times, and content of the conversations are all clearly recorded. You can cross-reference them with those people to see if the contents are true."
Little Martial Uncle stood on his tiptoes to pull the scroll down. He inspected it carefully and gave a soft "Alright."
Lu Qingkong sneered again. "Fine. Even though I was the one who spoke those words, and I am guilty, isn't the person who told me those things and twisted the meaning in the first place even more guilty?"
The disciples looked at each other, unsure of what Lu Qingkong was planning.
Ming Zhu and Zhou Fuxue had both experienced Lu Qingkong’s poisonous tongue—he could curse someone for half an hour without repeating a single word. Seeing that expression on his face now, their lips twitched with complex emotions.
Having said his piece, Lu Qingkong pointed directly at Yan Xueyu. "I learned from Third Senior Brother that Eldest Senior Brother jumped into the river because his face was injured. If we are following Fifth Senior Brother’s logic of finding the original source of the misinformation... then by my count, it shouldn't be me."
Yan Xueyu: "..."
Every eye in the hall turned toward Yan Xueyu.
Yan Xueyu had only come to watch the show. He had no idea the trouble would suddenly be diverted to him. He looked momentarily dazed.
Mister Blade said coldly, "Xueyu, what do you have to say?"
Yan Xueyu froze. Only then did he realize that maybe, possibly, probably, it seemed he *was* the culprit. However, the rumors about the inner disciples being at odds were true for a reason—even if he was going down, he was taking someone with him.
Yan Xueyu took a deep breath, stood up, and said calmly, "The words I said to Ninth Junior Brother were told to me by Second Senior Brother."
Yi Fuju: "..."
The crowd: "..."
Everyone had come for a good show, but they hadn't expected this kind of internal dog-eat-dog war. The atmosphere turned electric with excitement as they all stared expectantly at Yi Fuju.
Among all the Rizhao disciples, Yi Fuju was like a refined and noble flower; just looking at him from afar was enough to refresh the soul. No one could have guessed he would be involved in something like this.
Yi Fuju’s smile didn't waver. He lightly tapped on Ming Zhu’s palm.
Ming Zhu translated, "Second Senior Brother says... this was told to him by Fifth Senior Brother."
Shang Yanfeng: "..."
The crowd: "..."
What a splendid show!
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