The Grand Judgment Hall was an ancient relic, older than the sect itself. Carved deep into the stone roots of Dawnyu Mountain, it held the weight of centuries—its ceiling etched with the names of those who had once defied the sect and survived... or perished.
Zhen Hu stood at the center of the stone dais, surrounded by cold stares and muttered suspicions. The inner disciples formed two rings around him, and above them, the elders sat in their towering seats. At the apex was Zhen Xun, the Patriarch—his face unreadable, but his fingers clenched too tightly to ignore.
To Zhen Hu's left stood the Conservation Base, a spiritual formation meant to detect deception. Its glyphs pulsed faintly, ready to flare if even a word strayed from the truth.
To his right hovered the Oracle, an elderly woman blindfolded by sacred silk. She was one of the last of the Soul Binders—cultivators whose Intent had reached the point where they could glimpse into another's core, their very soul.
"I will begin," she said, her voice cold and direct. "Zhen Hu, son of Zhen Xun. You have been accused of practicing forbidden techniques and releasing a wave of power that disrupted the Aethonix Formation Grid. Do you deny these claims?"
Zhen Hu looked up slowly. His robes were still torn from the earlier conflict with Vyrinth, the blood on his collar not entirely dry.
"I do not deny I fought," he said. "But I never meant for anyone to be hurt."
"That is not the point," came Elder Qian's voice. "The skills you used were not from the Dawnyu Sect. Several disciples have attested that your movements, energy, and presence were not aligned with Aethonix Zen. One even said they saw your aura devour another's."
A murmur swept through the hall.
Mie Xian stood silently near the back. She wanted to speak—but she didn't even know what to say. She had trained beside Zhen Hu. He had saved her during their sparring trials. He had protected her from Vyrinth. But the Zhen Hu she knew could not have summoned that shadowy power... could he?
The Oracle stepped forward. "We will begin the first trial: Soul Reading."
A basin filled with zenfire was placed between them. Zhen Hu was told to channel his Intent into it. If he lied—if anything about his being betrayed his words—the flame would turn black.
Zhen Hu hesitated. Aelira's voice echoed inside him.
"I can shield some of your core. But if you push too hard, they'll feel me. And then... there's no turning back."
"I have no choice," he replied internally. "Let them see what they will."
The moment his hand touched the flame, the basin erupted. But not in black—no, it shimmered red-gold, veined with strands of gray.
The Oracle tilted her head. "This is… not ordinary Aethonix Zen. It feels… corrupted."
Another elder spoke. "Not corrupted—altered. As if his base cultivation technique feeds on decay."
That was too close to the truth.
Zhen Xun finally stood. "My son has always been weak. He had no zen base when he was born. I refused to let the elders exile him then. But what he has become is no longer something I can protect."
Zhen Hu's gaze tightened. The words stung more than he expected.
"I survived where others would have died," he said, voice steady. "I did not ask for this. But I will not beg to keep it."
The Oracle turned toward him again. "There will be three phases to your judgment. You have passed the first, for the flame did not lie. But the second phase—Intent Evaluation—will test the foundation of your path. We will enter your spirit realm tomorrow at dawn. If your Intent is not bound to our laws... then it will be severed."
Zhen Hu bowed, low and deep. "Understood."
He stepped back from the basin, every movement slow and heavy. As he turned, he saw Mie Xian still watching him. Their eyes met for a moment—hers full of worry, confusion, and something that looked heartbreakingly like hope.
He couldn't hold her gaze.
He walked back to his quarters alone.
That night, he didn't sleep. Aelira didn't speak either. But he could feel her—sitting just beyond his awareness.
Quiet. Watching.