Zhu Hanli retreated to his side. A faint trace of sandalwood wafted from her sleeve, mingling with the warm, heavy air current formed by the breaths of hundreds of people. Yue Tingzhou did not turn his head, his gaze fixed on the "Questioning Platform" about ten feet ahead. The platform was carved from a single block of "Heart-Calming Stone," its surface smooth as a mirror, reflecting the seventy-two eternal lamps hanging from the dome. The halos of light swirled and flowed, like a giant, indifferent eye. The guarantee was established. The century-old reputation of the Wan Jing Escort Agency was now like an invisible rope, one end tied to his wrist, the other end clutched in Zhu Hanli's hand. What came from the other end of the rope was not a pull, but a heavy, anchoring weight. He should get up. His fingertips unconsciously brushed past his waist. It was empty there; the black iron token of the Heng Law Department had long since turned to charcoal in the flames of the City God Temple. Only one thing remained—a crude wooden talisman plaque, its edges worn slightly smooth from handling, yet some corners still pricked the skin. It was what Lu Jianwei had stuffed into his hand before he left, calling it a rudimentary token of the "Folk Pulse Network," carved with the simplest "Linked Pulse" symbol. The edge of the talisman pressed into his palm. A sharp pain. Subtle, real, like a needle piercing the oppressive, dizzying pressure and scrutiny permeating the Assembly Hall. He closed his eyes. Darkness surged. What surfaced first in the darkness was not Huo Qingya's icicle-like gaze, nor the hostile or indifferent faces surrounding him. It was the face of his master, Shen Lichuan. Deep lines carved by the northern wind and sand, brows forever furrowed, looking at people as if reviewing a flawed testimony. "Tingzhou." The voice sounded in his memory, hard, cold, carrying the unique echo of an official hall. "What is the law?" His younger self stood on the green brick floor of the Heng Law Department's Discipline Hall, back ramrod straight. "Answering Master, the law is the guiding principle, the rules, the instrument to stop disputes and define boundaries." "Wrong." Shen Lichuan's hand pressed on the desk, knuckles thick and calloused. "The law is a blade." He looked up. "In whose hand it is held, it becomes that person's blade. Held by a good person, it beheads evil and eliminates harm; held by a villain, it slaughters the innocent. Therefore—" His master's gaze nailed into his face, as if to drill through his skull, "Those who wield the law must first ask themselves: For what purpose do you hold this blade? If your heart is not upright, the first edge to be rolled will be your own soul." For what purpose? Yue Tingzhou's breath hitched for a moment. The faint air current woven from the hundreds of breaths in the Assembly Hall brushed past his cheek. He could distinguish at least seventeen or eighteen different internal energy techniques: some long and gentle like a stream, some violent like thunder, some sinister and cold like a snake... and one, icy, sharp, carrying undisguised killing intent, coming from the front left—Huo Qingya's position. That killing intent hung above his head like a tangible icicle. Master. He silently recited in his heart. You taught me that law and principle are the guiding principles. You said, no matter how chaotic the martial world, there must always be a place to reason. The Myriad Gates Assembly is this place of reason. But what if this place of reason itself is using the word "reason" to kill people? What if that "Book of Heavenly Mandate"—that set of laws and principles claiming to be "Heaven-bestowed"—is, from its very foundation, a machine that selects, harvests, and exploits living people as resources? What if many of these "righteous sects" and "veterans of the martial world" sitting high in this hall have all taken a share from this machine, or at the very least, acquiesced to its operation? Could he still stand here, following their "rules," presenting evidence point by point, debating sentence by sentence? Like a lamb before hungry wolves, meticulously listing reasons why it shouldn't be eaten. Cold sweat seeped from his hairline, sliding down his temples, itching. He did not wipe it. The corners of the wooden talisman pressed deeper into his palm. The pain became clearer, more focused, as if gathering all his scattered thoughts into that one point. He thought of Shama Ashi. That Yi woman, not talkative, her eyes like an eagle from the mountains. She said when He thought of the "Calamity Mark" on Zhu Hanli's wrist. When it neared the *Book of Heavenly Decree: Operational Compendium*, it glowed, it resonated. That wasn't a mark of talent; it was the Mother Volume's brand on "high-quality fuel." And her father, the former chief escort of the Ten Thousand Mirrors Escort Agency, likely died "suddenly" on the road precisely because he had transported the "initial test samples" and knew too much. One thing after another. Not accidents. Not isolated incidents. It was a system. A precise, efficient harvesting system cloaked in the guise of "law" and "heavenly decree." And the Grand Assembly of All Gates, which should be a place to adjudicate justice, might now be turning into this system's shield. To "reason" here step-by-step according to procedure was to acknowledge that this system's "reason" was worth discussing. It was to tacitly accept that the lives, the cultivation, the futures of those harvested could be weighed on the scales of this "reason." Something in Yue Tingzhou's chest cracked. Not a physical fracture, but something deeper—a cognitive framework about "order" and "correctness" that had been maintained for over twenty years—had its first clear fissure. The crack spread, emitting a faint, splitting sound only he could hear. He suddenly understood. From the moment he accepted his master's secret order to intervene in this political marriage; from the first time he saw Zhu Hanli in the Ten Thousand Mirrors Tower and noticed the same wariness and desperation in her eyes as his own; from being hunted, forced to break through, forced to ally... all the way to this point today. He had been torn between two choices: obey his master, or honor the mutual protection promise with Zhu Hanli? But both choices were fundamentally wrong. They both assumed the rules of the game were set, that he could only choose sides within those rules. The real choice lay outside the rules. In whether to continue obeying this set of rules that "devoured people," or—to smash them. "Smash them." These three words rolled silently over the tip of his tongue, carrying a rust-like metallic tang and a near-destructive sense of exhilaration. He opened his eyes. Before him was no longer darkness, nor the suffocatingly magnificent spectacle of the Grand Assembly Hall. His gaze passed through the crowd, over Huo Qingya's icy stare, and landed on the massive stone wall behind the "Inquiry Platform," engraved with the alliance pacts of past generations. The wall was silent, imposing, symbolizing unshakable tradition and authority. The corner of his mouth twitched, ever so slightly. Like a smile, yet not. *Master, you taught me that the law is a blade.* *Today, your disciple will not wield this blade.* *Today, what your disciple will do is ask those who hold the blade: By what right?* *By what right do you decide life and death? By what right do you seize another's path? By what right do you turn living people into "fuel" that can be calculated, traded, and discarded in your ledgers?* *What I ask is not about "reason."* *It is about "force."* *It is the most fundamental, most naked thing you use to maintain this set of rules—martial force. And whether you dare to bring this martial force out into the open, into this "reasoning" Grand Assembly Hall, to accept the most direct challenge.* Yue Tingzhou slowly drew a breath. The turbid air of the Grand Assembly Hall flooded his lungs, carrying dust, candle smoke, and the complex scents emanating from countless people. He drew it into his dantian. The wooden tally token representing the "Commonfolk Illumination Vein Network" grew slightly warm in his palm. Not heat driven by true qi, but warmth brought by the surge of his heart's blood. He gently loosened his clenched fist. The stinging pain in his palm vanished, leaving behind a few shallow, whitish indentations. The edges of the wooden token seemed to have been softened a little by the warmth of his body. The last trace of attachment snapped. Attachment to his identity as a member of the Bureau of Harmonious Laws. Attachment to the certainty of "acting according to the law." The fear of his master's possible disappointment or even wrath... all turned to dust in that moment of silent collapse just now. His gaze returned to pure resolve. Like a blade tempered by fire, it shed all hesitation and impurity, leaving only the cold, hard, bright, unyielding edge. He lifted his foot. Took a step forward. The sole of his boot landed on the "Heart-Steadying Stone" floor with a soft, clear *tap*. This step crossed that invisible line—from "supplicant" to "ch He raised his chin, his gaze level and straight ahead, passing over the "Inquiry Platform" as if looking into a more distant void beyond the rules. His chest vibrated, breath sinking into his dantian before rising up along his throat; each word seemed forged in a furnace—clear, cold, yet carrying a weight sufficient to shatter metal and stone— "In accordance with Article Seven of the *Ancient Precedents of the Jianghu: Disputes Volume*, regarding fundamental doubts involving martial and legal matters, a concerned party may petition—" He paused, his voice suddenly soaring like thunderclaps beneath the empty dome: "——Question! Martial! Question! Law!" The four words fell, their lingering echoes buzzing and reverberating between the seventy-two eternal lamps, crashing against the "Heart-Steadying Stone" walls. Far from dissipating, they were compressed, layered, growing increasingly heavy and violent, like an invisible great hammer smashing brutally against every person's eardrums and heart. "Now, former disciple of the Heng Law Bureau, Yue Tingzhou," he continued, each word nailed into the air, "questions the fundamental legitimacy of the 'Decree of Heaven's' selection mechanism! This doubt involves martial—because the operation of the 'Decree of Heaven' relies on martial force to maintain order and suppress dissent; this doubt involves law—because the provisions of the 'Decree of Heaven' proclaim themselves the supreme legal principle for the marriage debts of the jianghu!" His gaze finally shifted to the left front, piercing straight toward Huo Qingya. "Therefore, in accordance with ancient precedent, I petition for the judgment of 'Question Martial, Question Law'!" "I request the operating party of the 'Decree of Heaven'—" He raised his hand, his index finger like a halberd, pointing directly in the direction where Huo Qingya stood, his voice resolute and leaving no room for maneuver, "——dispatch one person to battle, to engage in martial combat with me before this assembly!" "The words of the victor—" Yue Tingzhou swept his gaze across the entire hall, passing over every face—shocked, furious, or bewildered—before finally uttering that earth-shattering conclusion: "——shall be the 'Law' of today's public deliberation!"