295: Judge Tudor

Little Four's faint, youthful voice sounded in her sea of consciousness: "Host, next time you tease me, please block the system first."

"Little Four is just a mass of data. There is inherently a species barrier between a god and data."

Shang Wan Ning tightened her fingers around the ball of light: "Stop making excuses. When you wear a skin in the system space, don't you have a sense of touch? Can't you even simulate physiological needs?"

Little Four's sphere shimmered with light, her tone growing a bit more excited: "I can! Does the Host need a cuddling service?"

Shang Wan Ning took a deep breath: "No need. I can handle it myself."

"Oh~"

Little Four drew out the sound, her tone carrying an obvious hint of regret.

Shang Wan Ning didn't bother to tangle with the rogue system any further. She concentrated and opened the system panel, a golden light screen spreading out before her eyes.

Her fingertips quickly swiped through the virtual mall interface, her target clear—the Judge Character Summoning Card.

But after searching several times, the interface remained empty.

"Little Four."

Shang Wan Ning's anger flared up again. "The Department of Judges has been established, so where is the Judge? Are you playing with me?" She couldn't help but suspect the broken system was up to its old tricks again.

The ball of light vibrated slightly in her palm: "Host, is it possible that the Judge will only be summoned by their divine office after the Department of Judges is completed?" Her tone was a bit cautious.

Shang Wan Ning paused, forcing down her surging anger. Lately, she had been irritable, easily set off. "Sorry, I have indeed been in a bad mood lately."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, rarely admitting a small mistake.

Little Four immediately became as quiet as a shrinking quail, even dimming the light of her sphere, for fear of touching a nerve again.

Shang Wan Ning's figure flickered as she tore through space to appear high above the Netherworld. She looked down at the underworld territory she ruled.

The Wangchuan River meandered like an ink ribbon, the Ghost Gate Pass stood majestically, and the area where the Secretariat Office was located was brightly lit.

"Where should the Department of Judges be placed?"

Her divine sense swept in all directions. Near Wangxiang Terrace seemed good. The view was open, and it was close to Ling Qi's Secretariat Office. If anything happened, she could just dump it on AQi to handle, which would save her some trouble.

Having made up her mind, Shang Wan Ning did not hesitate. With a light flick of her wrist, the Judge's Token immediately left her hand, turning into a beam of light that shot toward the planned open space behind Wangxiang Terrace.

"Buzz~"

The moment the token touched the ground, majestic divine power erupted. A solemn black stone hall rose from the ground. Above the hall door, the three ancient seal script characters for "Department of Judges" were written with vigorous strokes, and a grim aura spread in all directions.

"It's done."

Shang Wan Ning stepped into the hall. The empty hall was filled with a chill. Only two magical artifacts floated in the center: a heavy ledger and a pitch-black jade brush.

The book of life and death and the judges brush.

Shang Wan Ning reached out and firmly grasped the judges brush. The brush felt cold and heavy in her hand, as if she were holding a segment of karma and reincarnation.

She did not touch the book of life and death but turned and walked deep into the hall to the only high-backed stone chair, sitting down with a flick of her robe.

"I will certainly get to the bottom of this and see who is so audacious. To dare to hold the divine office of Judge and yet be so negligent right under my nose."

Her knuckles tapped lightly on the armrest, her phoenix eyes narrowed. Her divine sense rested on the empty hall entrance, waiting patiently.

[Now that the Department of Judges has been established, under the resonance of the divine office, the rightful person should finally show up.]

Yin Street Avenue, paper craft shop.

"Taoist Liu, this Fuliji Roast Chicken of yours is thirty percent more expensive than in the world of the living. Isn't that a bit inappropriate?"

Tudor tapped his finger on the counter. His voice beneath the mask betrayed no emotion, but his gaze swept over the enticingly colored roast chicken in the oil-paper wrap.

Liu Fuge flicked her horsetail whisk, her expression calm and composed. "Commander Tudor, you get what you pay for. My craftsmanship is top-notch in the paper craft world. Even Her Majesty visits occasionally."

Her words carried the implication: "Even Her Majesty approves, so why are you being so picky?"

The corner of Tudor's mouth beneath the mask twitched. Using Her Majesty to pressure people again. The hand tapping the Netherworld Ox Horn slowed down: "Fine, since it's something Her Majesty likes, pack ten of them."

"Coming right up!"

Behind the counter, the little apprentice Goudan nimbly jumped onto a stool, his small hands skillfully beginning to pack.

Tudor waited with his arms crossed, his index finger rubbing the hilt of his ceremonial guard saber at his waist.

Suddenly, his body stiffened.

A familiar throb surged from the depths of his soul, instantly spreading to his limbs and bones.

A long-dormant core was forcibly awakened, emitting a clear resonance.

[The judges brush has appeared?]

Tudor's pupils contracted beneath his mask.

[Oh no, Her Majesty has established the Department of Judges. This is a resonance with me.]

He looked up, his eyes piercing through the roof of the paper craft shop and the dark clouds of the Netherworld, staring straight in the direction of the Department of Judges.

A chill of "I'm a goner" shot from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head.

[It's over. My slacking days are at an end. Her Majesty knows.]

...Inside the hall, a ghostly wind swirled. Shang Wan Ning sat on the stone chair, the rhythm of her knuckles tapping the armrest growing slower and heavier.

[Still not showing up? Putting on more airs than I do.]

Just as her patience was about to run out and she was considering whether to personally "invite" them, the door of the Department of Judges silently slid open a crack.

A figure walked in steadily against the light from outside.

Wearing the deep black uniform of the ceremonial guard commander, with a standard-issue long saber hanging at his waist. He still wore that golden mask to hide his true face. This person was Tudor.

He walked to the middle of the hall and stopped about ten paces from Shang Wan Ning's stone seat, standing straight.

Shang Wan Ning didn't speak; she just stared at him quietly. Her gaze was heavy and oppressive, and the yin energy in the hall almost froze.

Tudor's Adam's apple bobbed.

After a moment, he reached for the golden mask on his face. "Click."

The mechanism unlocked, and the mask was removed.

The light from the lantern ghost fires shone in at an angle, illuminating Tudor's face clearly.

It was sharp and well-defined, with an old scar at the corner of his left eye adding a bit of ferocity. Most striking was the dark red cinnabar mark of the character "Judge" right above the center of his brows.

The strokes of this mark rose and fell sharply, exactly like the mark on the brow of the Judge's divine statue. Even the position of the scar at the corner of his eye fell right below the "Judge" cinnabar mole on the statue.

The air suddenly froze.

Shang Wan Ning's small movement of tapping the armrest stopped. Her gaze first locked onto the glaring "Judge" character on Tudor's brow, then slowly moved to the golden mask in his hand.

The fire of being fooled and deceived exploded in her chest. It burned so fiercely that the Empress's scalp tingled and her shenting acupoint throbbed.

[The ceremonial guard commander, her confidant among confidants. Her most trusted leader of the personal guards.]

[It turns out he has been walking around under my nose with this face all along, while I urgently needed a Judge to organize the order of the underworld and share the pressure.]

[He could actually slack off with a clear conscience and even go buy roast chicken.]

"Good, very good. My judgment is truly sharp. I actually picked a 'good' Judge to be my ceremonial guard commander."