The silence in the Hall of Decrees lasted for three full heartbeats.
Every eye in the great green jade tiered arena slowly turned from the evidence table toward the second row of the deacons’ gallery. There, Senior Deacon Lu sat frozen in his purple silk robes.
Lu was an official of huge influence within the outer administration. As the chief supply manager of the Seventh Alchemical Hearth, he controlled the share-out of raw spirit herbs, the spreading of Foundation-Cleansing Pills, and the appointments of rural plantation deacons. For twenty years, he had been regarded as an untouchable titan of the supply high council, protected by his close family ties to the Pill Masters of the inner court.
Senior Inspector Han didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t look angry. He simply raised his long, bony index finger and pointed it directly at Lu’s chest.
“Senior Deacon Lu,” Han said, his voice cutting through the silent hall like an icy razor knife. “Step down to the evidence table.”
Lu’s high-born face turned from pale ivory to the sickly gray of damp ash. He forced a strained, condescending smile across his thin lips, rising from his bench with deliberate, trembling dignity.
“Senior Inspector Han... Elder Song,” Lu began, smoothing his stitched purple sleeves with nervous, jerking motions. “This... This is an outrageous slander! Deacon Sun is a cornered criminal, clutching at any name to mitigate his treason! I have served the Seventh Hearth with spotless devotion for two decades! I’ve never laid eyes…
