Chapter 162 - 161: Tribunal (2)
"Wait."
The word was not shouted. It was spoken at a normal, conversational volume. Yet, it sliced through the oppressive atmosphere of the amphitheater like a blade of purple lightning, instantly silencing the murmurs of the crowd.
Lin Yuan stood up from his chair.
He slowly descended the steps, his robes gliding effortlessly over the floor. The ambient spiritual Qi in the air instinctively parted for him.
Mu Tianyang’s heart skipped a beat, but he quickly forced a sneer onto his face. Let him come. There is nothing he can do. The illusion is flawless. He is trapped in a corner of his own making.
Lin Yuan stepped onto the floor. He walked past the kneeling, despairing Bai Chen, not offering him a single glance, and stopped ten paces away from Mu Tianyang and the trembling "Su Yin."
"Daoist Lin," Mu Tianyang said smoothly, adopting a tone of condescending patience. "I understand your desire to protect your family. But the trial is concluded. The victim has spoken. To interfere now is to declare war on the truth itself."
Lin Yuan did not look at Mu Tianyang. His deep purple eyes were locked entirely onto the figure of Su Yin.
"The truth," Lin Yuan repeated. A faint, lethally cold smile touched the corners of his lips. "You speak of the truth, Mu Tianyang, as if you have the slightest comprehension of the word."
As Lin Yuan stood there, the reality of the morning’s events played back in his mind.
Flashback.
Hours before the sun rose, Lin Yuan had stood in the cold, damp dungeons in the Celestial Summit. Floating in the air before him, trapped in a spatial vise, was the young servant Han Zilie had bribed. Under the terrifying pressure of Lin Yuan’s Spirit Severing aura, the servant had confessed everything. He had confessed to Han Zilie’s bribe, and, far more importantly, he had babbled about seeing Senior Disciple Mu Tianyang ordering a private carriage to the eastern gates in the dead of night.
Lin Yuan’s mind had connected the dots in a single breath.
Before the first light of dawn, Lin Yuan had intercepted that carriage on a desolate mountain road miles outside the capital.
When he tore the carriage door open, the real Su Yin had been sitting inside, startled and confused.
"Senior Lin? What are you doing here? I was ordered back to the sect," she had asked, her hand resting on her sword hilt.
Lin Yuan had looked at her, his gaze piercing straight through her sectarian conditioning. "You were ordered away so you could not speak today. I ask you only one question, Saintess. Do you truly believe Bai Chen stole your hairpin and harbors a degenerate obsession with you?"
Su Yin had frozen. The pragmatic, grounded girl had looked down at her hands. "No," she whispered softly. "He is honest. He would not do such a thing. But... Senior Brother Mu..."
She had hesitated, torn between her undeniable intuition and the absolute obedience demanded by her sect’s hierarchy.
"Go to my quarters," Lin Yuan had commanded, his voice leaving no room for debate. "Stay with my wife, Bai Qingyue. I will clear this mess. Do not let anyone see you."
End Flashback.
Lin Yuan blinked, bringing his focus back to the present, staring at the imposter trembling before him on the floor.
"Saintess Su Yin," Lin Yuan said, his voice echoing in the dead silence of the amphitheater. "You claim Bai Chen harassed you. You claim he stole from you. Look me in the eyes and repeat it."
"Daoist Lin, this is highly inappropriate!" Mu Tianyang snapped, stepping aggressively in front of the illusion to shield it. "She has been traumatized enough! I will not allow you to interrogate a victim of—"
"Move," Lin Yuan commanded.
He immediately activated his Shatter Illusion, See Truth divine spell.
Wooooom!
Lin Yuan’s deep purple eyes suddenly ignited with a blinding, terrifying flash of lightning. To anyone else, the Phantasm Veil Pendant was an illusion that could only be pierced by a cultivator possessing a Primordial Spirit. But Lin Yuan was different.
With the [Shatter Illusion, See Truth] spell, all illusions under Heaven were nothing more than layers waiting to be stripped away.
No matter how profound the concealment.
No matter how perfect the illusion.
As long as it existed, he could shatter it.
His gaze pierced through the veil in an instant, seeing past the false image and directly into the underlying truth.
He saw the artificial Qi weave. He saw the spatial distortion. And he saw the terrified male disciple hiding beneath it all.
Before Mu Tianyang could even process the shift in the atmosphere, Lin Yuan moved.
He utilized his Immortal Cloud Step. To a Nascent Soul cultivator like Mu Tianyang, it didn’t even look like speed. It looked like a glitch in reality. One moment Lin Yuan was standing ten paces away; the next, he was standing directly inside Mu Tianyang’s guard, entirely bypassing the Senior Disciple.
Lin Yuan’s hand shot forward like a striking viper. His flawless fingers bypassed the illusionary neck of "Su Yin" and closed directly around the invisible, but physical chain of the Phantasm Veil Pendant hidden beneath the disciple’s robes.
"What are you—" Mu Tianyang shouted, spinning around in sheer panic.
CRACK!
The priceless artifact shattered into a thousand pieces of dust.
The reaction was instantaneous and violent.
The fabric of reality violently snapped back into place. The illusion melted away like snow thrown into a furnace. The pale, trembling, beautiful Saintess vanished completely.
Standing in her place, wearing Su Yin’s robes, was a lanky, terrified male disciple of the Pure Cloud Sect. The boy’s eyes were wide with sheer horror as he stared up at Lin Yuan, realizing his cover had just been blown in front of everyone.
The silence that fell over the amphitheater was not just heavy; it was apocalyptic.
Thousands of cultivators stared at the floor, their minds violently short-circuiting as they tried to process the impossible visual before them. Lord Zhao Shenming stood up from his throne, his eyes wide. Patriarch Yun gripped his wooden staff so hard the ancient wood began to splinter, his jaw dropping in absolute disbelief.
Bai Chen lifted his head, blinking rapidly as the despair in his chest was instantly replaced by a wave of staggering shock.
Lin Yuan released the boy’s robes, letting the terrified disciple collapse to his knees on the floor. He pulled a silk cloth from his sleeve and slowly wiped his fingers, as if the very act of touching the illusion had soiled him.
He turned his head slowly, his deep purple eyes locking onto Mu Tianyang.
The Senior Disciple of the Pure Cloud Sect was hyperventilating. All the blood had drained from his face, leaving him as pale as a corpse. His composure had completely shattered. The grand alignment he had tried to violently protect was now a burning pile of ash for the entire province to witness.
"A flawless illusion," Lin Yuan said, his voice quiet, calm, and utterly devastating, carrying across the silent amphitheater. "A masterfully fabricated theft. A public execution of a boy’s reputation."
Lin Yuan tossed the silk cloth onto the floor at Mu Tianyang’s feet.
"You told me you were protecting your sect’s honor, Mu Tianyang," Lin Yuan whispered, a terrifying smile finally breaking across his face. "Tell me. Where is the honor in this?"