The dust has settled?

After all the circling, the dagger was finally revealed.

The atmosphere turned icy.

“You dare stand before me—discussing how to harm my elder—and expect me to watch silently?”

“Yes.”

“And if I say no?”

Gong Ning replied calmly, “This is notification, not a request. Wang Cheng’s actions go beyond personal grudges. He colluded with external sects, profited immensely, harmed the innocent, and caused their imprisonment. As a cultivator, he abandoned the Dao. As an elder, he failed his juniors.”

Shen Yanqiu finally rose from her mat.

She stepped slowly toward Gong Ning, her sharp eyes like blades scraping over every inch of her.

“Have you done any better yourself?”

“Upon reflection, Gong Ning has no guilt in her heart.”

Shen Yanqiu didn’t believe it—fine words were easy for anyone.

“You’re bold, Gong Ning. I thought you were far better than Su Qingyi—seems I underestimated you.”

“There’s no ‘boldness’ about it. Seeking justice for myself, clearing my disciple’s name—these are goals that must be accomplished.”

“You hide behind righteousness—all for your own desires? Do you know how much time, how many resources, it took my Sword-Steering Hut to nurture a Golden Core cultivator? These exchanges happen in every sect. Who doesn’t do it?”

Shen Yanqiu was old-school.

To her, such matters were trivial—so long as the foundation wasn’t damaged, they were gains.

She herself had come from that era—experienced those benefits.

How could someone who lived through that system understand the pain of decay?

But Gong Ning could proudly answer: the Heart-Sword Hall did not.

It sounded almost laughable—but true.

The Heart-Sword Hall was simply too insignificant to attract attention.

“One more time—I repeat: this is notification, not a request. I will act. If you object—we’ll settle it in the Punishment Sword Division.”

Somehow, word had spread.

On the way back from the Sword-Steering Hut, disciples gathered around, secretly watching Gong Ning.

Her fame was at its peak.

Tang Qiaohuan said people outside wanted to become her disciple.

Before, she might’ve been pleased.

Now—it was simply too much to manage.

Forget talent.

Only a few had the character of Lingling or Yunling.

Her standards had risen.

Lu Yunling, meanwhile, was confused.

Things had gone well—then ended badly.

“Master, why didn’t you speak more gently? Why not explain slowly…”

“It’s not that simple. She prioritizes her Hut’s future—repeatedly allowing subordinates to engage with other sects. This is already normalized. And as Hut Master, unless there’s a major crime, she’ll always protect her own.”

“But isn’t ‘no involvement in other sects’ and ‘no profit exchange’ a written rule of Xuantian Sword Sect? They used that very rule against you before.”

“Context differs. Back then, I couldn’t return to Tianjian Pavilion, but staying in Heart-Sword Hall lacked justification. If I refused recall, I’d be violating the rules.”

The key was whether they could find that one weakness—innocent until proven guilty.

But Wang Cheng was caught.

The evidence—delivered by Lu Yunling.

“Master, if you knew she wouldn’t agree… why come here at all? Isn’t this just exposing yourself?”

Gong Ning shook her head.

“I hoped to persuade her.
Twenty-year-olds can’t understand forty-year-olds.
I’m separated from her by three to four hundred years of experience.
I came not for success—but to prevent relations between Heart-Sword Hall and Sword-Steering Hut from worsening further.”

Their relationship was already poor.

Steal their disciple—then target their elder?

That would cause a split.

So the art of courtesy before force—was profound.

The next morning, just as dawn broke, the Punishment Sword Division arrived at the Sword-Steering Hut.

They ransacked Wang Cheng’s residence, seized all storage artifacts, and uncovered a mountain of unaccounted resources.

Wang Cheng had been cautious.

Since Lu Yunling’s betrayal and transfer, he’d feared exposure.

But he couldn’t understand—who provided the evidence? So precise, so damning—every hidden item found.

When the Punishment Sword Division announced they’d investigate his external assets—he collapsed, vision darkening.

The provider was, of course, Lu Yunling.

She hadn’t investigated personally.

Just used her foresight.

Entering the Sword-Steering Hut? Only to give Gong Ning a plausible reason—not raise suspicion.

Shen Yanqiu didn’t warn him.

Because if she did, after knowing Gong Ning would report him, it would leave a trace.

He would be caught.

But if it stayed small—she could go to the Sect Master, plead leniency, have some confiscated, some punished.

“Recently, some have been too reckless. A lesson will teach them.”

But Shen Yanqiu never expected the internal elders of the Punishment Sword Division to uncover Wang Cheng’s Stagnant Heart Lock—and bring it to Xuantian Peak to restore the scene of him giving it to Lu Yunling during the arena match.

Shen Yanqiu couldn’t comprehend—who dared tamper with a trial match?

This alone could spark outrage among all disciples.

Even more shocking—a new recruit this year had entered through his backdoor.

Backdoors weren’t rare—common in cultivation circles.

Not worth fussing over.

But he’d taken money to grant it.

Wang Cheng was taken away.

His home left in ruins.

Countless punished disciples now screamed curses at the once-proud elder.

Shen Yanqiu stood behind the disciples.

When questioned by the Punishment Sword Division, she could only claim ignorance.

This act of feigned ignorance shamed even herself.

A Nascent Soul cultivator—played so thoroughly.

Once, she saw Su Qingyi as a rival.

Then Jiang Yuyao surpassed her.

Now, another generation threatened to pass her.

And now—she’d fallen to this Gong Ning.

She’d never respected Gong Ning.

When she learned Su Qingyi took such a disciple—thought she’d lost her mind.

But now, Shen Yanqiu had to admit—

she was intrigued.

Heart-Sword Hall.

“Master, is it really over? Isn’t this… unfair to Gong Changqian?”

“What kind of talk is this—now you care about fairness?”

Gong Ning replied, “Gong Changqian and Wang Cheng are different. Wang Cheng took money for favors. Gong Changqian acted on Tianjian Pavilion’s will from start to end.”

“So Wang Cheng doesn’t deserve death?”

Not exactly.

Simply because she hadn’t found a way to kill him yet.

Wang Cheng was just an administrative elder—always in the sect.

Hard to eliminate.

“Thank you, Yunling. You’ve helped me so much lately. Last trial—you didn’t gain anything yourself.”

Lu Yunling shook her head.
“Not hard. Relieving my Master’s worries—is my duty.”

Such smooth words—like Lingling.

Not as sweet, but always comforting.

Thinking of Lingling, Gong Ning reached out—ruffling Yunling’s hair.

Yunling lowered her head, letting her Master stroke easily.

Behind them, Tang Qiaohuan remained the background.

What was regret?

In her past life, she’d done too much evil to feel it.

But this life—she’d done so much for her Master—yet couldn’t even enter as a disciple.

Perhaps this bitter feeling was it.

Ah, well.

Her Master’s reputation was rising again.

Time to pick up the pen—revive Waste Immortal while the moment lasted.

Just then—she heard Gong Ning call:

“Tang Qiaohuan!”

Her heart leapt.

In her life, she’d never felt such intense anticipation.

She turned, walking slowly to Gong Ning—still using her playful tone:
“What do you want?”

“I don’t understand you. I don’t know what you see in me. Your behavior has troubled me.”

More nonsense?

But Tang Qiaohuan relaxed.

Her Master’s speech pattern always had a twist.

“But I’m deeply grateful for what you’ve done for me.”

Tch. You don’t know half of it.

She was smug inside.

If her Master ever learned everything she’d done—would she be shocked?

Then—soft fingers settled on her head.

Her Master had never done this.

She didn’t know why a head pat felt good.

But experiencing it—she understood the meaning.

Maybe because she was short—her Master leaned down slightly.

Those full breasts swayed gently before her eyes.

But Tang Qiaohuan loved the touch.

Warm, soothing—like being cradled, breathed upon tenderly.