The arena stood still, air thick with tension. Huang remained motionless, Fei's calm but determined face veiled with righteous fury. In his hand was the Recording Crystal given by the elders — the one that condemned Luo Sen and Mu Xiaoyi to death. Across from him, another crystal floated above his palm — dimmer, older, but pulsing faintly with a deeper truth.
Elder Tun, voice cracking with forced authority, stepped forward.
"We cannot verify the origins of that second crystal. The only validated account is—"
"Validated by whom?" Huang's voice cut through the air. "The same elders who ordered the trial in secret? Who ensured there were no soul-path confirmations? Who executed two innocent people without letting Jiang Fei speak in his own defense?"
An uncomfortable shuffle passed through the spectators. Some disciples looked away. Others frowned deeply.
From the raised platforms, the envoy from the Serene Star Sect stepped down.
"The boy raises a good question," she said, hands clasped. "But we cannot allow every questionable testimony to be rewritten by anyone claiming truth. Memory Crystals are tamperable, especially if—"
BOOM.
A massive wave of pressure crashed down upon the arena like thunder rolling across a canyon.
Every single cultivator in the Loose Blade Arena — from the seated disciples to the sect recruiters — instinctively dropped to a knee or staggered backward.
A single golden figure shimmered into view above the arena — as if stepping from the folds of space itself.
Eyes widened.
"Th-that's…"
"The Patriarch!"
"The Jiang Patriarch!"
Descending in robes of black trimmed with gold, long white hair bound by a crimson seal of office, came Jiang Son, Patriarch of the Jiang Clan — one of the few remaining cultivators of the Gold Seal Stage in the southern dominion.
His face was ageless, stern, carved in a dignity born not of arrogance, but weight. His eyes, however — sharp and keen — gleamed with fury barely restrained.
He landed softly upon the center platform, not bothering to acknowledge the kowtows.
"I have watched this farce unfold long enough," he said.
The air snapped taut with his words.
"To the envoy from Serene Star Sect," he continued, his gaze turning. "You speak of tampering — yet do not question why a crystal containing 'memory' from three cultivators who died violently lacks the signs of soul rupture. If you can believe false memory without inspecting its core, then what need does your sect have for insight at all?"
The woman bowed deeply. "Patriarch Son… my apologies…"
He didn't acknowledge the apology. Instead, he turned to the elders.
"You let my son — my only heir — be condemned by your silence. By a flawed, unauthenticated crystal. You condemned two slaves without a soul-path inquiry. And you sealed his chamber, desecrating his name with shame."
Elder Tun stammered, "We—we believed the evidence was—"
"You believed convenience," Jiang Son interrupted, voice low and deadly. "Because you feared what the truth would cost you."
Then he turned to Huang. His golden eyes studied him quietly. Everyone waited — wondering if the Patriarch would see through the disguise.
But he did not speak it.
Because perhaps… he already knew.
"Show me the second crystal," Jiang Son said.
Huang held it out without hesitation. It floated to the Patriarch's palm.
With a gesture, a dome of gold light enveloped them both, sealing sight and sound from all others.
Inside, Jiang Son reviewed the memory.
Jiang Fei's voice, clear and pained, could be heard confronting his cousins.
"Why… why did you do this?"
Then Jiang Wei's sneer.
"Because only one of us gets into the Cloud Saber Sect, Fei. And your bloodline's too clean. That soft heart of yours doesn't belong in a sword hall."
The ambush.
The trap talisman.
Fei's cry as it struck him from behind.
Huang's voice shouting, dragging him away…
The memory ended.
Jiang Son let the light fade.
He turned back toward the elders, toward the platform of recruiters and envoys.
"This is the truth," he said coldly. "Not because I say it is — but because the soul imprint on this crystal matches Fei's own imprint—found on his hidden pendant, which I took from his quarters before returning."
A stunned silence. Jiang Wei and Tao froze. One of them began to shake.
"Furthermore," Jiang Son said, his voice rising now, "you all bore witness to a disciple return from the tomb with power, memory, and soul essence that no mere imposter could fake. And yet not a single one of you — not sect elder, envoy, or clan master — saw through the deception of the true murderers."
He pointed to the recruiters.
"You have eyes, but see nothing. You praise bloodlines, but spit on justice. You came to recruit a sword, and nearly let the only one worthy fall under your heel."
The Serene Star Envoy swallowed.
"We… we ask your forgiveness, Patriarch Jiang."
He did not answer.
Instead, he turned to the arena.
"Bring Jiang Wei and Jiang Tao."
Guards moved.
The two cousins tried to flee — but a golden net of light fell around them before they even touched the edge of the platform.
They screamed as they were dragged forward.
Jiang Son said, "Let them be judged by the Sword Hall Tribunal. Their fate will be decided not by whispers or power, but by the ancestral laws they so easily violated."
He turned to Huang.
"You have the face of my son. The voice. The sword."
There was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze — or perhaps something more ancient: recognition.
"Whatever you are… you will stand as heir until the truth of his fate is known."
Gasps again.
The clan had not had an heir since Fei's presumed death.
Jiang Son raised a hand.
"Let it be known. Until that day, 'Jiang Fei' stands again."
And just like that, the tides turned.