Chapter 7
Chapter 7: Dust Warden Interrogation (Part 2)
“Impudent!”
Gu Cang Yue pressed his palm down with a spell. The River of Oblivion snapped back into stillness as if nothing had happened.
A massive dharma avatar of a luan bird manifested behind him, blotting out the sky. The pressure of it alone could make a person’s soul tremble.
“A Dust Warden official may be the strongest warrior in the Dream Realm,” Gu Cang Yue said coolly, “but if you truly fought me, you might not win.”
Mo Ting Feng withdrew his sword qi at once. He dipped his head in a courteous salute, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. “I have no intention of fighting Lord Cang Yue. I was only anxious to find my companion. Please forgive the disturbance.”
Gu Cang Yue’s gaze lingered on him, then he gave a quiet scoff. “I wasn’t at the River of Oblivion last night. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have let your Dust Warden people run wild here. I won’t pursue it. But you came here on your own.” His tone sharpened. “Ridiculous.”
Gu Cang Yue thought of a few hours ago—how the oxygen in his lungs had been nearing its limit, how there had been no choice.
In his luan-bird form, he’d done everything he could to lift that woman back up to the surface. There, he found the Soul-Carrying Boat and placed her inside. It was the only way.
In his condition, he couldn’t possibly have delivered her to shore. And the River of Oblivion at dawn was brutally cold. If she’d remained soaked in that water, even with air, she would have died.
Afterward, he returned beneath the surface, but he hadn’t gone deep. So of course he knew what happened next: the woman wearing the White Robe had been taken away by Mo Ting Feng.
He wanted to know how she was doing.
He couldn’t ask.
It didn’t matter. If he wanted to see her, he had plenty of ways.
Mo Ting Feng, meanwhile, felt a sharp instinct prick at him.
Gu Cang Yue was hiding something. Otherwise, with his temperament, he wouldn’t have settled for simple suppression when Mo Ting Feng deliberately sliced open the Blackwater to provoke him. He would have answered with a killing move.
That meant guilt.
Guilt over what?
If the White Robe’s disappearance truly involved Gu Cang Yue, then with Gu Cang Yue’s influence in the Upper Realm, Mo Ting Feng would have to move carefully.
With that thought, Mo Ting Feng saluted again. “I was rash. I’ve disturbed you. Farewell.”
Gu Cang Yue watched him go, his gaze unreadable.
Elsewhere, an equally unreadable gaze rested on the world below.
Calling him a man wasn’t quite right—he was a faint, blurry Shadow, as insubstantial as smoke.
It was strange. The Dust Warden Manor bustled with people, yet no one seemed able to see him at all. Right now, he sat on the eaves of Mo Ting Feng’s private residence—Wind-Listening Manor—as if the place belonged to him.
Every curse Song Wei Chen had screamed earlier had reached his ears. A satisfied, scheming smile tugged at his mouth.
“The person—I went through so much trouble to find her, and you brought her back too,” he murmured. “Lord Mo… what happens next depends on you. Don’t disappoint me.”
He lifted a hand and pointed toward the back mountain behind the Dust Warden Manor. A strand of black-purple sinister qi slithered away like a small snake.
With a soft laugh, the Shadow vanished.
Through the eaves, Song Wei Chen could be seen inside, curled on the bed in her loungewear, hugging her blanket with her eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to fall asleep.
Some stubborn part of her insisted this was all unreal. If she could just sleep and wake again, everything would return to normal.
But the more she forced it, the wider awake she became. She didn’t even understand what had happened—how was she supposed to prove her innocence?
And when that cold-faced devil came back…
She couldn’t stop her mind from flashing to the dungeons and torture devices she’d seen on TV.
Oh god. Help.
The door slammed open.
Mo Ting Feng entered, carrying a chill with him.
He’d searched for most of the day, tracing every route where the White Robe had escorted the chaos wraith. He’d used tracking spells. He’d turned the path over until there was nothing left to turn.
Nothing.
The White Robe Venerable was truly gone.
And not dead, either. The Yellow Springs Bureau held no new record. He had simply vanished into thin air.
Worse still, with his disappearance, the chaos wraith had vanished as well. Mo Ting Feng couldn’t guess what kind of disaster would come of that.
His brow tightened as he looked at the girl on the bed, curled up and watching him with cautious eyes.
Too many coincidences meant someone was stirring trouble.
The missing him, the sudden her—there had to be a link. And right now, the only thing that even resembled a clue was the girl in front of him.
Mo Ting Feng sat in the chair beside the bed, expression hard. “Have you figured out how to prove your innocence?”
Song Wei Chen pouted. “If I say no, are you going to throw me into a dungeon?”
“Do you have rats in there? If you have rats, do you also have snakes? I’m terrified of snakes…”
She swallowed. “Are you going to torture me? I’m really scared of pain. If you’re going to kill me, just make it quick. Do you have some painless, instant-transcendence technique?”
She looked like she’d already written her own ending, so she decided to stop pretending. She planted her hands on her hips and faced him head-on.
“I get it now. You’re gaslighting me.”
She glared. “Did I steal your matchmaker from West Mountain or rob your thief on East Mountain? I’m innocent. Why do I have to prove I’m innocent?”
The words came faster as her nerves snapped loose. If she was doomed anyway, why keep swallowing the grievance?
“You really should take Teacher Luo Xiang’s class,” she fired off. “Ever heard of presumption of innocence? Innocent until proven guilty?”
“This is forcing a confession.”
“And have you people even heard the story of Injustice to Dou E? Treat me like this and I’ll make snow fall in June, July, and August, I swear!”
By the time she finished, her throat was dry.
She looked around, spotted a cup of water on the table, and—without a second thought—grabbed it and drank. Still not satisfied, she seized the teapot, refilled the cup, and downed several more until her breathing finally calmed.
She set the cup down and turned—
—and froze.
Mo Ting Feng was right behind her. She had no idea when he’d moved. The distance between them was no distance at all.
When he stepped closer, she backed up on instinct, a flash of his hand around her throat rising too fast in her mind. She brought a hand to her neck and retreated until the edge of the table pressed into her lower back.
Nowhere left to go.
He towered over her by nearly a head. The pressure of him wrapped around her until she felt starved of air.
A glint of something—almost amusement—slid into his eyes.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said.