137: Investigation

The sun was setting, staining the horizon with a mournful, vivid blood-red.

The Zhao family's banquet had just ended; the hall was filled with the lingering aroma of wine and meat, yet it couldn't dispel the forced, false composure.

Zhao Qingsong sat in the main seat, slowly sipping hangover soup, his face bearing a hint of post-drinking flush and an indelible gloom.

A trusted steward hurried in, carrying the outdoor chill, and leaned close to his ear, his voice kept extremely low:

"Master, the rumors in the city... something's wrong. Hu Ji gained immense benefits, but the Hu family... the Hu family is finished! The whole family has been arrested and imprisoned! That killing god Zhu Changpo... is playing for keeps! And... those shadows outside our manor, they seem... they seem to have increased, like ghosts..."

Zhao Qingsong's hand holding the soup bowl jerked violently, splashing a few drops of soup onto his luxurious brocade robe.

Forcing himself to stay calm, he slammed the bowl heavily onto the table with a sharp "clack," shouting with blustering bravado:

"What's the panic! The sky isn't falling! No matter how ruthless Situ Jun is, would he dare slaughter my entire Zhao family? I have connections in the Zhou Dynasty..."

Before he could finish, a gust of wind suddenly rushed into the hall, blowing the candlelight into a frantic flicker, nearly extinguishing it.

"Report—!"

A servant rushed in, scrambling on all fours, his face deathly pale and his voice raspy and distorted, filled with extreme terror:

"Head... Head of the family! The... the gate... is open! They... they... are here!"

"Who's here?! Speak clearly!"

Zhao Qingsong's heart skipped a beat, and a chill rushed from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.

The servant's teeth chattered as if he had seen the most terrifying sight in the world; his lips trembled, but he could only make incoherent rasping sounds, his finger shaking as he pointed outside the hall.

There was no need for him to answer.

A series of unhurried, crystal-clear footsteps stepped onto the polished stone floor of the Zhao family's front courtyard, approaching from afar.

As the footsteps drew closer, an invisible, suffocating pressure, like a cold and viscous tide, instantly submerged the entire hall.

At that moment, all the burning candles in the hall weirdly tilted toward the direction of the footsteps, as if bowing to some supreme being.

The color instantly drained from Zhao Qingsong's face, leaving it deathly pale.

He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair with a harsh scraping sound.

He stared fixedly at the door leading to the courtyard.

A tall and upright figure appeared at the doorway, bathed in the last sliver of blood-red setting sun peeking through the door.

Situ Jun.

Behind him followed Zhu Changpo and a group of guards.

Situ Jun was not wearing the majestic robes of a City Lord, but a simple, spotless green robe.

There was even a faint, gentle, and polite smile on his face, as if he had come to attend an old friend's dinner party.

However, it was precisely this smile, contrasted with those bottomless, rippleless eyes, that emitted a bone-chilling fear under the dim, flickering candlelight.

"Master Zhao, sorry for the intrusion."

Situ Jun's voice was not loud; it was even warm and peaceful, yet it clearly reached the ears of every member of the Zhao family who stood frozen in extreme terror.

He stepped forward, calmly crossing the threshold and entering the hall filled with the scent of despair.

"Situ... Lord Situ..."

Zhao Qingsong's throat was dry, his voice raspy, and his body trembled involuntarily. He tried to force a smile, but his facial muscles were too stiff to cooperate:

"Your... your presence brings light to my humble abode... I failed to welcome you properly... Quick, quick, bring a seat for the City Lord!" he shouted incoherently, trying to use the noise to mask his inner panic.

Situ Jun seemed not to hear his pleasantries. His Eye of Detection fell back onto Zhao Qingsong, and the gentle curve of his lips remained unchanged.

A moment later.

"Don't bother."

He raised his hand casually with an elegant motion.

"Boom—!"

The heavy, copper-plated main gate of the Zhao manor was pushed by an invisible force behind him, closing slowly and seamlessly with a heart-pounding thud.

That thud was like the announcement of Hell's gates closing, completely cutting off the last sliver of hope for everyone in the hall to contact the outside world.

The last ray of daylight was completely shut out.

Inside the hall, only the candlelight flickered, projecting Situ Jun's gentle smile and the Evil Qi-filled soldiers behind him into the depths of every Zhao family member's pupils, branding them as the final and most terrifying nightmare of their lives.

Situ Jun's gaze finally fixed on Zhao Qingsong's pale and distorted face; that gentle smile was like a mask, unmoving.

"Master Zhao,"

He spoke; his voice wasn't loud, but it clearly drowned out the crackling of the candles and the suppressed gasps of the Zhao family:

"You truly are quite attached to your old acquaintances in the Zhou Dynasty, aren't you?"

Zhao Qingsong shuddered as if licked on the neck by a cold, venomous snake.

He opened his mouth, wanting to argue, to beg for mercy, to bring up the reliance he took pride in, but his throat felt as if it were filled with burning sand, and he couldn't utter a single word.

Immense fear seized him; the indifference in Situ Jun's calm eyes was more despair-inducing than any savage threat.

It was the absolute control of one looking down upon an ant, holding the power of life and death.

Situ Jun didn't seem to need his answer.

He paced a step forward, his stride still leisurely, as if strolling in his own courtyard.

As he took this step, the already oppressive air in the hall suddenly solidified, turning into what felt like physical mercury, pressing heavily on everyone's chest.

The flickering candles once again tilted sharply toward Situ Jun, their light suddenly dimming, and the hall fell into a weird gloom.

"Northern Border City is my territory!"

Situ Jun's voice remained calm, but it carried a coldness that could ice seal all things:

"I have the final say in everything. Master Zhao, wouldn't you say so?"

His gaze drifted lightly over a young manager behind Zhao Qingsong who was trying to sneak toward the side door.

The moment the manager met Situ Jun's gaze, he was frozen as if by invisible ice; all color instantly drained from his face, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, the smell of urine spreading through the deathly silent air.

The muscles on Zhao Qingsong's face twitched violently, and beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead.

He gritted his teeth, as if using every ounce of strength he had ever possessed, and hissed:

"Situ Jun! You... don't push people too far! My Zhao family is deeply rooted in Northern Border City, and we have people... people in the Zhou Dynasty! Just... just try moving against my Zhao family! At worst, we'll both go down together!"

"Going down together?"

Situ Jun looked as if he had heard an amusing joke; the gentle curve of his lips seemed to widen slightly, but there was no hint of a smile in his eyes, only a bottomless, ghostly chill.

"Master Zhao, you overestimate yourself."

He gently raised his right hand; his fingers were long and his knuckles well-defined, looking like a perfect jade carving under the dim, flickering candlelight.

There was no earth-shattering eruption of spiritual power, no dazzling light from a Spell. He simply made a casual, empty grasping motion toward Zhao Qingsong.

Time seemed to be stretched infinitely at this moment.

The ferocity on Zhao Qingsong's face suddenly froze, then transformed into an extreme, unspeakable horror.

He felt no force applied to him, but the space around him, the air he relied on to breathe, the solid ground beneath his feet, the blood flowing through his body... everything was instantly crushing and collapsing toward him!

"Ugh... hrrr..."

A rasping sound like a broken bellows came from his throat, and his eyes bulged out of their sockets in terror.

He clearly "saw" his arms weirdly bending and folding inward, his bones making a tooth-grinding, dense cracking sound like popping beans.

"Spare... spare my life..."

Zhao Qingsong struggled to squeeze out a few words, his face flushed red from suffocation.

He had always thought Situ Jun relied on Zhu Changpo, an Early Golden Core Stage Cultivator, to suppress Northern Border City, but now he realized how horribly wrong he was!

Situ Jun's strength was by no means that of a Foundation Establishment Cultivator as rumored in the city, but a Golden Core Cultivator! And not just any ordinary Golden Core Cultivator.

Zhao family's Foundation, Zhou Dynasty acquaintances—in the face of absolute power, they were as fragile as thin paper.

Situ Jun withdrew his spiritual power and said to Zhu Changpo:

"Take him back and interrogate him thoroughly!"

...