The already silent courtroom fell into an eerie, almost unnatural stillness. Every pair of eyes locked onto the defendant, waiting for his next words.

And he did not disappoint.

“I not only hit the old man and tried to shirk responsibility—I deliberately framed him! I’ve also engaged in embezzlement, accepted bribes, colluded with organized crime, and even trafficked drugs!”

The entire courtroom was shocked into oblivion.

Then, like a bomb going off, the previously quiet space exploded.

Reporters scrambled to capture photos, the frenzied sound of camera shutters filling the air. Others rushed to pull out their phones, calling their respective news headquarters.

The judge, still in stunned disbelief, could barely process what was happening before Zheng Ji’guo continued:

“I know that mere words aren’t enough proof, and you all might not believe me. So, to ensure full transparency, I took the liberty of printing out all the necessary evidence. I hope this can serve as a lesson for everyone.”

With that, he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick stack of densely packed A4 papers, then began personally handing them out—one by one—to everyone in the courtroom.

The judge, who had been frozen in shock, found himself holding a copy. The moment his eyes scanned the page and spotted his own name listed among the corrupt officials, he nearly passed out.

Zheng Ji’guo had previously bribed the judge, and on these pages, every single detail was recorded—dates, times, transaction methods, bank account numbers—everything.

Seeing that Zheng Ji’guo had already distributed a significant portion of the documents, the judge’s vision went black. His voice trembled as he frantically ordered, “S-someone! Someone arrest him! He’s—he’s insane! No—no! He’s disrupting the court! Bailiffs! Where are the bailiffs?!”

Zheng Ji’guo completely ignored the judge, who was on the verge of passing out. Even as the courtroom descended into utter chaos, he maintained his signature kindly smile and said,

“Let my mistakes be a lesson to everyone. Don’t follow in my footsteps.”

The reporters who had come expecting a routine case never could have dreamed of this. A defendant suffering a breakdown, smiling as he confessed to a laundry list of crimes in court?

This was the story of the year.

In the era of instant information, it took mere seconds for a journalist to snap a picture of the A4 paper and upload it to Weibo.

Within minutes, the document went viral, exploding across the internet, drawing in millions of curious onlookers.

Yu Ruhui had initially been baffled, thinking Zheng Ji’guo was pulling some bizarre trick. But as she read through the evidence in her hands and saw the seriousness in his expression, she was completely stunned.

For a brief moment, she even wondered if she was dreaming.

But as reality sank in, it became clear—

She wasn’t dreaming.

Zheng Ji’guo was.

As the bailiffs escorted him away, he was still smiling—an eerie, unsettling grin that sent shivers down the spines of everyone watching. It was as if he had been possessed.

And the internet ran with it.

Speculation exploded across social media.

Some claimed he had been cursed. Others insisted he had fallen victim to black magic—perhaps a failed Thai spirit ritual backfiring on him. A few even theorized that he had been hit with some kind of ancient sorcery.

Conspiracy theories spread like wildfire, filling every corner of the web with wild guesses and supernatural explanations.

The original case, which should have been the focal point—the elderly man, Yu Zhixue, being wrongly accused of faking an injury after a fall—was quickly overshadowed by the bizarre developments surrounding Zheng Ji’guo. The public’s anger, which had been directed at the elderly man just days ago, quickly turned to scorn for Zheng Ji’guo.

The web of entanglements surrounding the case became so vast that higher authorities soon issued a gag order to try to stifle the conversation. However, even with such measures in place, the attempt to fully suppress the fallout was futile. The story had already gained too much momentum.

As per the “brainwashing” that Ji Chenai had done on Zheng Ji’guo just days prior, Zheng Ji’guo was released from custody—not only that, but he even had people sent to escort him back home.

Wang Zhixiu, who had been frantic over Ji Chenai’s disappearance and nearly called the police, was overwhelmed with relief when she saw him safely return. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes as she scolded him gently:

“Xiao Qin, you need to tell me about these things next time, okay? I’m so scared something might happen to you. You don’t understand—I saw the news with your father yesterday…”

Ji Chenai comforted her, promising to keep her informed in the future. As she wiped her tears away, she asked him if he’d been hurt in any way.

Ji Chenai quickly reassured her that he was fine.

Wang Zhixiu, having checked him over and finding no injuries, finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Thanks to Xiao Qi, Ji Chenai was able to thoroughly review the events of the entire ordeal. As he watched Zheng Ji’guo grin and hand out his confession, he couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Xiao Qi, however, found Ji Chenai’s smile creepy.

The effect of the “Saint’s Radiance” was far more powerful than “End of the Liar.” While “End of the Liar” could delay things by prolonging the trial, leaving room for a potential reversal, but “Saint’s Radiance” immediately drained the life from Zheng Ji’guo’s future. He would never stand again in this lifetime.

“Those who stand by the river often get their shoes wet.” If it weren’t for Zheng Ji’guo’s reckless actions, he wouldn’t have ended up in this situation. If he hadn’t hit someone and tried to frame the elderly man, and then threatened Ji Chenai, he wouldn’t have suffered such a fate.

The effect of the ” Saint’s Radiance” lasted for three days. While not an especially long period of time, it was enough to send Zheng Ji’guo spiraling into the abyss. He became the first person in history to completely ruin himself in front of numerous media outlets during a trial.

The true reason behind his actions remains a subject of speculation.

Once Zheng Ji’guo fully realized what he had done, he completely broke down mentally. Soon after, reports emerged that he had attempted suicide at home and had been found in a state of mental collapse.

As for Ji Chenai, he didn’t attract much attention in this whole affair. First, he wasn’t even present at the trial. Second, Zheng Ji’guo had already controlled him, leaving him no opportunity to act. Third, Ji Chenai appeared to be nothing more than a frail, disabled individual—certainly no one would consider him a threat.

After all of this, Yu Ruhui visited the Zhou family to express her thanks. Carefully, she asked Ji Chenai if he had faced any difficulties that day. Ji Chenai reassured her that nothing had happened, asking her not to worry.

However, Yu Ruhui looked somewhat downcast. She said, “Maybe Xiao Jun was right. I shouldn’t have involved you. If it weren’t for Zheng Ji’guo’s own actions… I honestly don’t know what we would’ve done.”

Upon hearing this, Ji Chenai simply said, “It’s fine to do good deeds, but what matters is that you shouldn’t do it at the cost of harming yourself and your loved ones, especially if you don’t have the means to do so in the first place.”

Yu Ruhui smiled bitterly at his words and said, “Xiao Jun must have told you about my father, right?”

Ji Chenai replied that Xu Junshu had not given many details.

Yu Ruhui sighed and continued, “My father had several wartime comrades who never had good financial conditions, so he always helped support them. But I never thought that my mother, who had been ill for years, would avoid going to the doctor because of the costs… and in the end…”

She paused, laughing bitterly at herself. “Because of this, our family has blamed him, especially Xiao Jun. He was very close to my mother and couldn’t accept it at all.”

At that moment, Ji Chenai fully understood why Xu Junshu had such a strong aversion to him helping Yu Zhixue.

Yu Ruhui chatted with him for a while longer before leaving. Ji Chenai thought for a moment and decided to take advantage of the cooler weather to go out and pick up some trash every day. Even the smallest mosquito leg still counts as meat.

Zheng Ji’guo’s scandal caused quite a stir. After an investigation, it was revealed that all the crimes he had confessed to were true—both detailed and indisputable—making it impossible for anyone to suppress the information.

Despite Zheng Ji’guo’s connections, they couldn’t save him from his own self-destruction. It was even rumored that his mental state had deteriorated, and he was now seeking to be granted medical leave.

Thanks to this incident, Ji Chenai earned over 3,000 positive energy points, and the amount continued to increase over the past couple of days. It looked like it might even reach 4,000 or 5,000 in the end.

Although only Zheng Ji’guo had fallen, the issues he exposed involved several major groups. The most alarming was the drug trafficking operation that was part of the nationwide crackdown, which even implicated a large state-owned enterprise.

Ji Chenai was pleased to see things unfolding this way because the more bad people that were taken down, the quicker he could rise.

Xiao Qi had been keeping an eye on the online discussions, and when he saw that some people were speculating that Zheng Ji’guo had angered someone involved in cultivating immortality, he finally couldn’t help but complain to Ji Chenai about the public’s lack of imagination and their disregard for science.

Ji Chenai was speechless at Xiao Qi’s complaints—who else could possibly imagine that it was a system changing the world? But on the other hand, since Xiao Qi had brought up the issue of disrespecting science, it made Ji Chenai wonder if Xiao Qi’s system had something to do with scientific knowledge.

Xiao Qi didn’t confirm nor deny Ji Chenai’s guess, but its attitude suggested that it was quite fond of the person who invented it.

Curiosity about this inventor suddenly grew stronger within Ji Chenai.

=^_^=