Elder Wu DeZheng held the signed promissory note between two quivering fingers, his eyes darting wildly toward the locked office shutters.
The morning light was just cresting the eastern ridges. But the elder had already downed three bowls of nerve-calming lotus broth.
“You can’t take this to the Disciplinary Hall, Lin Ke!” Wu hissed, his voice trembling with scared urgency. “Are you mad? The Law Enforcement Board is half-owned by the Grand Fortune Clan! Chief Checker Han’s concubine is Zhao Wuji’s second cousin! If you walk into their hall with a signed murder writ, the evidence will be ‘accidentally burned up by spirit-fire’ within ten breaths! The hired blades will be released on an office clerical error, and by tomorrow night, you’ll be found floating face down in the melted rock waste pond!”
Lin Ke sat calmly on the rosewood stool, his hands resting flat on his knees.
Beside him, Meng Shan stood with crossed arms, scowling with deep, bitter disgust. “So an outer clan heir can buy an assassination in broad daylight, and sect law does nothing?”
“Sect law protects capital, Meng Shan,” Lin Ke said, his voice flat as an iron ledger. “A criminal court is designed for moral transgressions. In a criminal trial, the standard of proof is high, political corruption is systemic. The defendant has endless appeals.”
Lin Ke leaned forward, tapping the dark wood desk with a slate-grey index finger.
“Which is why we’re not filing a criminal complaint.”
Elder Wu blinked, confused. “Not criminal? But they brought an Earth-Buster Magic charm! They tried to blow up Crucible One! That’s tried murder!”
“Tried murder is an emotional offense,” Lin Ke replied coldly.
Tianfu. Branch.
At double test model speed, Lin Ke ran the office routing trees.
Route One: File with the Punishment Trial. Result: Case stalled for ninety days. Evidence tampered with. Zero damages awarded.
Route Two: File with the Sect Commerce and Audit Trial.
In the second test model, Lin Ke reframed the legal ontology entirely:
Don’t classify the event as “Tried Murder.”
Classify it as “Gross Commercial Espionage, Malicious Sabotage of Sovereign Manufacturing Assets, and Breach of Sect Supply Chain Security.”
The Commerce and Audit Trial was staffed by the most ruthless, bean-counting Foundation Establishment elders in the sect.
They didn’t care about dead fire clerks.
They cared about sect manufacturing revenue.
Crucible One was currently producing Grade-3 Feather-Pattern Essence Iron. It had just satisfied two thousand stones of debt bullion.
Under Sect Commercial Code, Section 44, Paragraph 3: Any commercial cartel found guilty of sabotaging an active, tax-generating heavy-duty production work-yard is subject to immediate asset sequestration, forfeiture of cartel trading privileges, and forced punitive indemnities.
And best of all:
The head judge of the Commerce Trial, Elder Gu, despises the Grand Fortune Clan because Zhao’s father had underpaid his annual commercial kickbacks by ten percent last winter.
Lin Ke cut the mental branch.
He opened his physical eyes, pricking his left thumb pad with his iron metal pen.
“Branch checked: main.”
He looked at Elder Wu.
“Elder Wu. If you file a murder charge, you get nothing. But if you file Form 77-C: Commercial Espionage and Capital Asset Sabotage Action with the Commerce Trial...”
Lin Ke pointed to the fine print of the office code.
“Under Clause 9 of the Commercial Protection Mandate, twenty percent of all punitive damages awarded by the Trial are paid directly into the supervising administrator’s personal pension reserve as an ‘Office Vigilance Bounty’.”
Elder Wu froze.
His jaw dropped. His eyes widened until they sparkled with pure, thrilled avarice.
“A... A personal pension bounty?” Wu squeaked, clutching his chest. “Twenty percent? On a commercial sabotage claim against a premier clan?”
“If we claim ten thousand stones in load-bearing and developmental damages,” Lin Ke said, his voice melodic and merciless, “the forced minimum settlement is fifteen hundred stones. Your cut would be three hundred spirit stones. Deposited directly into your retirement ledger with zero tax debt.”
Elder Wu leaped out of his chair with the agility of a startled deer.
“Where is my brush?” Wu roared, knocking his teacup onto the floor and sending his record-keepers scurrying. “Bring me the yellow thick parchment! Bring me the gold-embossed seal of the Seventh Ward! Meng Shan, bind those three Shadow Wolf scoundrels in heavy chains! We march to the Commerce Trial right now!”
One hour later, inside the grand, vaulted stone hall of the Sect Commerce and Audit Trial.
The hall was packed with over two hundred merchants, clan factors, and outer elders.
Behind the high marble bench sat Chief Magistrate Elder Gu. A severe, razor-faced Foundation Establishment elder with cold, grey eyes that looked like lead sinkers.
Zhao Wuji stood before the bench, surrounded by four expensive clan lawyers in stitched silks.
Zhao’s face was arrogant, smirking, confident that his father’s connections had already buried the midnight raid.
“Judge Gu,” Zhao’s lead lawyer announcedwith smooth, oily deference. “This entire affair is an ugly misunderstanding. The three men apprehended were rogue wanderers with no legal affiliation to our clan. The promissory note found on their person is an obvious, amateur forgery created by bitter fire hands attempting to extort our prestigious family.”
Zhao Wuji smiled thinly, stepping forward and bowing. “Indeed, Elder Gu. My family contributes twelve thousand spirit stones annually to the sect treasury. We would never stoop to vandalizing a dirty outer ward.”
Elder Gu didn’t smile. The old judge adjusted his iron-rimmed glasses. It looked down at the documents Lin Ke had compiled.
Lin Ke stepped forward. He wore clean clerk robes, his brass measuring tongs resting in his sash, his stance rigid and authoritative.
“Judge Gu,” Lin Ke said, his voice ringing through the marble hall with total, sound clarity. “The defendant claims the promissory note is a forgery. Let’s inspect the data.”
Lin Ke raised the thick parchment scroll with his left hand.
“Line four: the seal is pressed in Royal Dragon-Blood Red ink—a proprietary, potion-made ink blended only by the Grand Fortune Clan’s private estate, restricted under royal sumptuary laws to members of the direct bloodline.”
Lin Ke turned his eyes toward Zhao Wuji.
“Line seven: the ink matrix contains tiny magnetic iron dust matching the exact fine dust exhaust of Crucible Four—proof that the note was finalized within three hundred paces of our outer edge. And most decisively...”
Lin Ke looked directly at Judge Gu.
“Under Sect Commercial Code, Section 44, Paragraph 3, the three intruders were carrying an Earth-Buster Demolition Magic charm targeting Crucible One. Crucible One is currently approved under Form 18-A as a sovereign manufacturer of Azure Cloud Currency Bullion.”
Lin Ke took a single, heavy step toward the bench. His voice dropped into a chilling, legalistic execution:
“An attack on a currency-producing work-yard isn’t a civil dispute between students. Under Sect Constitutional Canon 04... It’s an act of Unlawful Heavy-duty Terrorism against the Sovereign Currency Reserves of the Azure Cloud Sect.”
The word terrorism echoed off the marble pillars like a thunderclap.
The entire hall went deathly silent.
Zhao Wuji’s confident smirk vanished in an instant, replaced by a look of sheer, cold panic.
His four lawyers took a collective step backward. Their mouths opening and closed like choking carp.
Judge Gu leaned forward, his grey eyes narrowing into cold, hungry slits.
An act of currency terrorism bypassed all clan protections. It gave the Commerce Trial total, unappealable turf to seize commercial assets without consulting the Disciplinary Hall!
“Unlawful Heavy-duty Terrorism...” Judge Gu repeated slowly, his voice dripping with icy finality.
Judge Gu picked up his heavy ebony gavel.
BANG.
The gavel struck the sounding block with the force of an avalanche.
“The Trial finds the Grand Fortune Merchant Clan guilty of gross rule-book malfeasance, commercial espionage, and reckless endangerment of sovereign currency public works!” Gu decreed.
BANG.
“First Decree: The Grand Fortune Clan’s exclusive forward iron monopsony charters are declared null, void, and forfeited for gross breach of trust!”
BANG.
“Second Decree: All Grand Fortune iron warehouses within the outer sect are impounded until the conclusion of the Annual Check!”
BANG.
“Third Decree: The defendant, Zhao Wuji, shall pay one thousand five hundred low-grade spirit stones in immediate punitive indemnities to the Seventh Smelting Ward, debited directly from his clan’s bonded treasury reserves!”
Elder Wu let out a high-pitched squeal from the gallery. He grabbed his heart with both hands as his pension bounty was legally locked into the registry.
Zhao Wuji stood frozen in the center of the hall.
His monopoly was shattered. His forward contracts were voided. His warehouses were locked under trial seals.
He had lost fifteen hundred spirit stones in punitive damages. On top of the three thousand stones he had bled trying to corner the spot market.
The guards escorted Zhao out of the hall.
As Zhao passed Lin Ke on the marble steps, the young merchant heir stopped.
Zhao turned his face toward Lin Ke.
His cheeks were pale, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a trembling, feral snarl, his eyes filled with pure, murderous poison.
“Enjoy your coins, Lin Ke,” Zhao whispered, his voice shaking with total malice.
“Enjoy your little victory with the elders and the paperwork. In one month, the Annual Outer Sect Check begins. In the Bone-Crushing Gravity Pagoda... There are no clerks. There are no contracts. And there’s no Elder Wu.”
Zhao stepped closer, his breath hot against Lin Ke’s ear.
“In the Pagoda, combat is forced. And you’ll leave that tower in a wooden box, with every single bone in your body ground into dust.”
Zhao turned and strode down the marble stairs.
Lin Ke stood on the landing, the midday sun warming his face.
He reached into his sleeve, touched the heavy pouch containing fifteen hundred spirit stones of approved trial settlement drafts. Then he smiled his thin, quiet, deadpan smile.
“A performance test without office overhead,” Lin Ke murmured.
“I look forward to the benchmarks.”