If the mood of the previous day’s trial had been tense, today was even more so. The entire Jiang contingent was devoid of all purple, not a clarity bell in sight. Instead, all of them were glad in new robes with a new symbol. These robes were magenta in color, with purple edging, the Nine Petal Lotus was replaced with a blooming lily. From the rather smug expression on Nie Huaisang’s face at the sight of them, it wasn’t far-fetched to believe he played some role in how quickly the new Jiangs had rebranded themselves.
Jiang Wanyin was nowhere to be seen, having been carted off with the rest of his family. All the better, in everyone’s opinion. That family had long since worn out everyone’s patience, and the cultivation world was ready to be rid of them. This was especially true after the revelation of Jiang Fengmian’s attempted assault against an Imperial Prince. Everyone, especially certain Great Sect Heirs, was eager to get the trial underway and wash their hands of this entire affair.
Wen Ruohan took his seat on his throne, feeling an uncomfortable pressure all around him. Risking a glance behind him at the raised dais, he wasn’t surprised to find that all of them present had stormy expressions. Lord Black Water looked especially angry, only a gentle hand from Shi Qingxuan keeping him in his seat.
Turning back to face his fellow cultivators, Wen Ruohan took a deep breath, steadying his nerves and schooling his features. He had no reason to be afraid. After all, he was not the one to fall out of favor with the Gods. The only one with something to fear was Jiang Fengmian.
“Bring him out,” the Chief Cultivator ordered a pair of his disciples. “Let us be rid of this vile stain on the Cultivation World once and for all.”
…
The Imperial carriage arrived at the front steps of the Scorching Sun Palace, coming to a stop as the door swung open on its own. Wei Ning was the first to step out, mask affixed to his face as he offered his hand to Hua Xianle. With all the grace of the Prince he was, the boy descended from the carriage, head held high and the journal clutched tightly in his offhand.
“Let’s go,” he commanded, Wei Ning nodding silently as he fell into place behind the Prince.
…
Jiang Fengmian was dragged up from the palace dungeons, his face still bruised from the beating Hua Cheng had given him. His robes were still stained with his blood, and he was clapped in thick chains around his wrists and neck. He was shoved to his knees with a hard thud, the weight of his restraints dragging him down. His core was sealed, which only made them heavier.
Everyone stared daggers at the broken man before them, nothing but hatred and contempt in their gaze. The pressure in the room almost seemed to double as inhumane growls sounded from the raised dais. Fengmian wisely kept his gaze locked on the floor.
“Jiang Fengmian,” Wen Ruohan began, looking down his nose at the man. “You almost had the rest of us fooled into believing the corruption of the Jiang Sect was solely the doing of Ziyuan and her brats. However, it seems your own hands are not clean at all.”
He snapped his fingers, summoning a Disciple to step forward. “Read the charges.”
The scroll the Disciple held was nowhere near as long as the one belonging to Ziyuan, but that hardly mattered to anyone. Its existence alone was enough to bring stormy expressions to everyone’s faces.
“The crimes of Jiang Fengmian are as follows…” the Disciple cleared his throat. “Multiple accounts of neglect of Disciples and ward, accessory to murder by means of cover-up and willful ignorance, and the attempted assault of Hua Xianle, Crown Prince of Xianle and Heir of Hua Zi Cheng.”
Dark murmurs filled the room as everyone whispered amongst themselves. A certain Lan was staring so hard at the disgraced Sect Leader that the very air around him felt frosty and ice cold.
