One person said: The essence of Wuhou Qimen lies not in Qimen, but in Wuhou.

Rong Shan blushed and clenched his fists so tightly they cracked.

His voice was filled with unvented anger and resentment at being wrongly accused. Every word was squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying scalding heat and a deep sense of powerlessness: "Master—this is a huge mess! The key is—we can't prove our innocence! The person is already dead! We arrested him, and he died in our hands. There was no one else present from beginning to end."

Although Dou Le could prove that the person was already dead when he arrived, he could not prove how the person died or who killed them.

The whole world will think it was our Celestial Master's Mansion that killed someone to cover it up—we can't clear our name even if we jump into the Yellow River!

Zhang Zhiwei withdrew his gaze from the night sky, turned to look at Rong Shan, and his expression had returned to calm and composure.

He pulled his hand out of the sleeve of his Taoist robe and gently patted Rongshan's shoulder. The force was light, but the weight of that hand pressed down on Rongshan's heart.

When he spoke, his tone was calm and steady, as if he were talking about something he had already figured out and was no longer dwelling on: "Things have come to this point, there's no point in saying more."

Dispose of the body properly—burn it clean, bury the ashes somewhere, and leave no trace.

As for what the people in the company think, or what the world thinks, we can't control that.

Surely no one in the world would think that our Celestial Master's Mansion is like the Quanxing Sect, would they? That's really not funny at all.

He withdrew his hand, the sleeve of his Taoist robe flicking gently in the moonlight. The bitterness and desolation in his tone were suppressed to the deepest part at this moment, replaced by a sense of responsibility and composure as the head of the Celestial Master's Mansion.

He looked straight ahead as he spoke, as if he were giving a formal explanation to some invisible entity in the void: "However, considering Feng Zhenghao's example—be prepared to accept the company's punishment."

If you're wrong, you have to admit it; if you're punished, you have to accept it.

That's the rule.

Regardless of whether we killed the person or not, the person was lost in our Celestial Master's Mansion and died in the woodshed of our Celestial Master's Mansion.

Based on this alone, we are already in the wrong.

The Celestial Master's Mansion has a thousand-year heritage; it cannot be allowed to fall into disgrace under my leadership, Zhang Zhiwei.

I, Zhang Zhiwei, accept whatever punishment is due.

Admitting it—is actually cleaner.

After saying this, he flicked the sleeves of his Taoist robe and strode out of the courtyard without looking back.

His wide Taoist robe billowed behind him like an old flag billowing in the night wind, passing through the moon gate and disappearing into the depths of the night.

Rongshan stood at the door of the woodshed, watching his master's figure disappear into the moonlight, and remained silent for a long time.

Then he turned around abruptly, looking at the corpse lying quietly on the ground in the woodshed. The expression on his face changed from shame and self-blame to gritted hatred.

He muttered a curse in a low voice that only he could hear—the anger in his chest seeped through his teeth, but he forced it back down.

Then he strode into the woodshed and slammed the door shut.

……

As dawn broke, the peaks of Longhu Mountain were still shrouded in a thin layer of bluish-gray gauze, while a sliver of orange-red light peeked through the distant mountain ridges.

The light started as a thin line, as if someone had lightly drawn a line on the horizon with a vermilion pen, and then it spread at a speed visible to the naked eye—orange-red turned into golden-red, golden-red turned into crimson gold, and finally the red sun broke free from the horizon's constraints, splashing its radiant light without reservation across the thousands of peaks and valleys of Longhu Mountain.

The five-star red flag in front of the Tianshi Mansion was billowing in the morning breeze, fluttering in the rising sun, and the golden five-pointed stars on the flag were shining brightly.

The door to the reception room was already open.

This reception room is the main hall of the Celestial Master's Mansion for receiving distinguished guests. The furnishings are simple and solemn. In the center is an old mahogany eight-immortal table. The tabletop has been worn smooth by time, reflecting the warm yellow glow of the lotus chandelier above.

On each side are four armchairs of the same material, with Tai Chi Bagua and crane and auspicious cloud patterns carved on the back.

A central scroll hangs on the wall, depicting the story of Zhang Daoling, the Celestial Master, riding a tiger into the mountains. The couplet on both sides reads, "The Dao pervades the three realms and returns to the one Qi; the Dharma penetrates all transformations and gives rise to a thousand truths."

A fresh stick of incense had just been placed in the incense burner, and wisps of smoke rose, drawing a thin arc in the morning light.

Zhang Zhiwei sat on the armchair to the left of the octagonal table. He had changed into a clean Taoist robe, his white hair was neatly tied up, and his face was calm and serene, showing no sign of the fatigue he had endured until late last night.

Tian Jinzhong's wheelchair was parked beside him. The empty sleeves and trouser legs swayed slightly in the morning breeze, and his deep-set eyes, which shone with a restrained sharpness, were silently observing the doorway.

Dou Le sat on the right side near the door, dressed in a sharp suit and a perfectly tied tie. His expression was professional and calm—so calm that it revealed no extraneous information, just like the appropriate expressionless face of a standard civil servant in the workplace.

Liu Jianjun, the newly appointed director of the Guixi City Culture and Tourism Bureau, stood directly in front of the octagonal table, holding a dark brown briefcase with a shiny surface.

He was in his early thirties, wearing silver-rimmed glasses, with his hair neatly combed. He wore a well-pressed white short-sleeved shirt with dark gray trousers, and the Party emblem on his chest reflected slightly in the morning light.

He exuded the energy and caution of a newly appointed official—neither overly enthusiastic to the point of seeming obsequious, nor so serious as to seem distant; he struck the perfect balance.

He bowed slightly, placed his briefcase on the edge of the octagonal table with both hands, then straightened up and began to speak in a standard, impeccable reporting tone.

His tone was friendly yet solemn, his pace even and clear, and every word seemed to have been taken from a work manual: "Master Zhang, I am truly sorry to bother you so early in the morning."

I shouldn't be disturbing your peaceful retreat at this hour, but work matters can't be delayed for even a moment.

After careful consideration and comprehensive deliberation by the Party organization, I, Liu Jianjun, have been appointed to take over the overall work of the Guixi City Culture and Tourism Bureau.

In order to ensure that the traditional Taoist culture of our Longhushan Tianshi Mansion can be better inherited and protected, I dare not stop for a moment. As soon as I took office, I rushed over without stopping.

From now on, we will be comrades fighting side by side. I hope Master Zhang will give us his support and guidance.

Zhang Zhiwei slowly stood up from the armchair, clasped his hands together, and bowed slightly in a Taoist salute, his smile kind and composed.

When he spoke, his voice was loud and sincere, not at all like someone who had been up all night; instead, he seemed energetic after a good night's sleep: "Director Liu, you've worked hard."

You flatter me by saying that—I should learn from my superiors.

For the sake of cultural inheritance and protection, you rushed up the mountain before dawn. I see your sense of responsibility and will remember it.

I'm just an ordinary citizen. The Celestial Master's Mansion on Longhu Mountain is a Taoist sect with a history of thousands of years. It's our blessing to be able to do what we can for the country and society in this new era.

Rest assured, the Celestial Master's Mansion will definitely respond to the Party's call, fully cooperate, and will never cause trouble for the country or hold the organization back.

Liu Jianjun smiled warmly, a smile of approval spreading across his face, and nodded repeatedly.