Seeing the boss sweating anxiously, the sword-wielding girl silently put down her bowl and placed a copper coin beside it. 

Then, she turned her gaze to Cen Wuyue: “This cultivator, what do you think?” 

Her tone was direct and sharp, like her sword. 

“Of course, it’s possible,” Cen Wuyue answered confidently. “My master and my second senior sister were both so-called ‘mortals’ before they started cultivating.” 

Cen Wuyue’s answer surprised the sword-wielding girl, who then pursed her lips and said, “Thank you for saying that.” 

She bowed slightly to Cen Wuyue, then got up and left. 

Cen Wuyue found it interesting, finished the contents of her bowl in a few bites, and chased after her before she could even chew properly: “Mmmmph mmmph mmmph mmmph?” 

The sword-wielding girl, seeing her cheeks puffed out, said speechlessly, “I can wait. Finish chewing before you talk, or you’ll choke.” 

Since the other party was so kind, Cen Wuyue followed her with a smile, walking side by side for a while before swallowing and repeating her question: “You’re going to the City Lord’s Mansion?” 

Instead of answering, the other party became wary: “How do you know?” 

“You’re clearly not a cultivator, but the sword you carry has spiritual energy, which must have been left to you by a cultivator you’re close to.” Cen Wuyue glanced at her knuckles turning white as she gripped the sword hilt. “You’re nice to me, but you always look displeased when you pass disciples of Xuanxu City, which means you have private disputes with them. Your entry badge shows you arrived thirteen days ago. Has there been no progress in these thirteen days?” 

Of course, most importantly, Cen Wuyue had already seen her near the City Lord’s Mansion yesterday. 

At that time, she was arguing with several Xuanxu City disciples. 

“What you said is right.” The sword-wielding girl was silent for a moment, seemingly unconsciously stroking the sword hilt with her fingertip. “I’m looking for someone.” 

“But you can’t get in?” 

“…Yes.” 

No matter how much they try to be approachable, the City Lord’s Mansion is not a place anyone can enter. 

Otherwise, why would Cen Wuyue secretly break the formation and climb over the wall in the middle of the night? 

“It just so happens that I’m going to the mansion to find someone today,” Cen Wuyue suggested kindly, “Let’s go together.” 

“Why help me?” 

Cen Wuyue gave her a sweet smile: “Because you dared to ask me ‘What do you think?'” 

Not everyone has that kind of courage. 

With experience, Cen Wuyue quickly and smoothly led the sword-wielding girl to Sang Qing. 

Sang Qing had just come out of the dungeon, and there seemed to be a lingering smell of blood around her. 

Her gaze fell directly on Cen Wuyue, and she asked, “Any new clues?” 

“No.” Cen Wuyue said matter-of-factly, “I wanted to see how the interrogation is going and if you need my help. Although I have no experience in interrogation, I feel like I should be good at it!” 

“No need.” Sang Qing refused coldly, “If I were you, I would be more worried about my own life.” 

“There’s also this,” Cen Wuyue gestured to the girl beside her, saying the name she had learned on the way, “Her name is Fang Juejian, and she’s here to find someone.” 

Hearing her say this, Sang Qing finally paid attention to the third person present for the first time. 

“Steward Sang.” Fang Juejian bowed respectfully to Sang Qing, and then said concisely, “My name is Fang Juejian. My mother passed away four months ago due to illness. Before she died, she asked me to retrieve something that was stolen from her twenty-one years ago by my biological father. My biological father is a disciple of Xuanxu City, and his name is Fang Heng.” 

“‘Stolen’?” Sang Qing repeated the word. 

Fang Juejian’s answer was firm: “My mother’s cultivation.” 

Sang Qing’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

Cen Wuyue also understood. 

–He wanted to achieve enlightenment by killing his wife. 

Twenty-one years, plus the scar on Fang Juejian’s face. 

–Well, he also killed his daughter after killing his wife. 

“What proof do you have?” Sang Qing asked. 

“I am the proof,” Fang Juejian said. 

Cen Wuyue was amused by this question and answer. 

“Even if what you say is true, and even if this Fang Heng is dead,” Sang Qing said, “the cultivation cannot be returned to your mother, nor can it be passed on to you.” 

Fang Juejian suddenly looked up: “Then what–” 

“Even so, if you want to seek justice,” Sang Qing interrupted her, “I will order him to be brought here to confront you.” 

Fang Juejian closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

Then, she bowed deeply to Sang Qing, word by word: “I want to seek justice.” 

Hearing this, Cen Wuyue curiously interjected, “Don’t you need to report to the City Lord?” 

“Such a small matter does not need to disturb the City Lord,” Sang Qing said casually, “Any steward knows how to handle it.” 

She reached out, and the bird-shaped automaton hovering in the air swooped down into her palm, quickly carrying her order away. 

Cen Wuyue reached out enviously several times, but was completely ignored by those lifelike small automatons. 

Until Sang Qing and Fang Juejian were about to leave, Cen Wuyue was still clinging to the railing, stretching out her arms, unwilling to leave. 

Fang Juejian looked at her again and again, and couldn’t help asking, “How old are you?” 

Cen Wuyue hadn’t calculated it, and the question was actually quite complicated, so she casually said, “Two or three hundred, maybe.” 

Fang Juejian choked and stopped talking. 

Sang Qing reached out again, and a round-bellied siskin automaton immediately obeyed and flew into her hand. 

Cen Wuyue’s hand was only half a foot away, still holding the unfinished cloud cake, but she wasn’t even glanced at. 

Cen Wuyue sighed in disappointment and was about to withdraw her hand when Sang Qing turned her palm over and handed over the siskin. 

“Automatons don’t need to eat.” Sang Qing placed the black-eyed siskin in Cen Wuyue’s hand, her tone calm. “It doesn’t listen because you’re not a disciple of this sect.” 

Cen Wuyue held the obedient little siskin, blinked, and thanked Sang Qing with a huge, bright smile: “Senior Sister didn’t want to see me disappointed. Senior Sister is so nice~” 

Fang Heng was quickly led to the Ming Room by several Xuanxu City disciples. 

The true age of a cultivator cannot be simply judged by their appearance. 

Fang Heng looked no more than twenty years old. If no one said anything, who would have thought that his daughter was twenty-one years old? 

Fang Heng’s expression was somewhat bewildered. After glancing over the three people in the room, he chose to bow to Sang Qing first: “Steward Senior Sister.” 

His gaze towards Fang Juejian was as unfamiliar as his gaze towards Cen Wuyue. 

Sang Qing put down the jade slip she had been holding in her fingers, reading with her divine sense: “Fang Heng, what path do you cultivate?” 

Fang Heng was even more puzzled, but he still calmly replied, “Naturally, the Path of Emotionlessness.” 

“What is the third sentence of the Xuanxu City disciple’s code?” Sang Qing asked again. 

“‘Blood relatives are all illusions, automatons are the beginning of divinity, cutting off emotions is like mowing grass, wasting a hundred years of life, fellow disciples but different paths, forever imprisoned in the Thousand Machine Tomb.'” Fang Heng not only answered, but even added calmly after answering, “This disciple has been in Xuanxu City for nineteen years and has never dared to forget it.” 

“Is that so?” Sang Qing said, “Then why is it that your blood relative has traveled thousands of miles to Xuanxu City to seek justice?” 

Fang Heng raised his head, looked at Cen Wuyue first, then at Fang Juejian, revealing an appropriate amount of confusion and grievance. 

And Fang Juejian was standing in what could be described as an excellent position – the side of her facing Fang Heng was the side without the scar, the side without a sword, and even the section of the scabbard behind her was blocked by Cen Wuyue beside her. 

So, before Fang Juejian could speak, Cen Wuyue placed the siskin automaton she had been playing with all the way on top of her head, preemptively saying, “What’s wrong, Fang Heng? Can’t you even recognize your own daughter’s face?” 

Fang Heng was stunned. His gaze, which was previously uncertain, fixed on Cen Wuyue, carefully looking her up and down, and shook his head: “Fellow Daoist, don’t joke. I have never had a wife, let alone a daughter as old as you.” 

“We each have our own words, and there’s no need to argue. The method to prove who is lying is very simple. I have a needle here – you should know what this is, right?” Cen Wuyue opened her palm, allowing Fang Heng to see the thin needle in her hand. “If you really want to prove your innocence, stab yourself with it and say the same thing again.” 

Seeing the familiar long needle, Fang Heng almost subconsciously glanced at Sang Qing. 

Sang Qing was just examining him with her eyes, without saying a word. 

“Why don’t you use it?” Fang Heng questioned back. 

Cen Wuyue pointed to herself matter-of-factly: “Of course I’ve already used it!” 

“Good, good, good.” Fang Heng seemed to be exasperated, saying “good” three times in a row, then smiled bitterly, shaking his head and walking towards Cen Wuyue, “This so-called ‘innocence,’ it seems I have no choice but to prove it – no need for Steward Senior Sister to do it, I’ll do it myself!” 

He seemed to have been greatly humiliated, his face ashen as he stopped in front of Cen Wuyue, took a deep breath, and then reached out to take the needle in her palm. 

–The change happened in this short moment of interaction. 

Fang Heng’s hand hadn’t touched the needle yet, but in mid-air, he slightly changed his gesture, using his fingertip to flick the silver needle into the air, and then with a backhand flick, the silver needle shot towards Cen Wuyue’s brow and sea of consciousness like a ray of light, a completely unreserved killing move. 

Before he made his move, no one had expected that he had hidden his strength. 

At such a close distance, with such great force, he had no intention of letting “his daughter” live. 

At the same time as the golden needle shot out, Fang Heng himself used the force of the needle to fly backwards, although the force was old and slightly weakened, he had already reached the door in a flash. 

The whole process happened so quickly that Cen Wuyue didn’t even have time to blink once. 

Sang Qing and Fang Juejian moved almost simultaneously. 

The former reached out, pinching the thin needle in the air with two fingers, suspending it in front of Cen Wuyue’s forehead. 

And the latter released a sword from afar. 

Only one sword. 

But it was a sword like a meteor streaking across the sky. 

Fang Heng, who was only one step away from leaving the Ming Room, was struck by this sword, falling to the ground like a piece of luggage falling from a high altitude. He no longer had the ethereal grace of his previous sudden retreat, and crashed heavily against the door, causing the door panel to make a loud noise.