In fact, there was no need for Ji Jue's suggestion at all at this critical juncture. Everyone understood: to quell the city's turmoil as fast as possible, dispel the gathering storm, and reassure the public, there were only two options.
First, kill the Evil Transmutation Cult. Second, kill the "Evil Transmutation Cult."
Whichever method they chose, they had to act fast, hit hard, and stay steady, nipping the tempest in the bud before the situation could escalate. Likewise, whichever path was taken, there had to be an Evil Transmutation Cult!
Now, the Evil Transmutation Cult had arrived.
Delivered right in front of Ji Jue.
The time had come to draw the curtain on this farce; this was the final procedure.
—Take a look. Is this the Evil Transmutation Cult you were talking about?
The same police station, the same interrogation room. Under the downward gaze of the same surveillance camera, beneath the watchful eyes of all factions, Ji Jue sat in the interrogator's seat. Legs crossed, he savored the complimentary coffee, casually inhaling its aroma.
Not uttering a single word.
Everything was clearly in place, yet he dragged his feet, refusing to begin the final performance.
In the dead silence, only the "confessor" behind the table grew increasingly fidgety and ill at ease. Rigid, he could not help but break into a cold sweat that soaked his back, even though he had long resolved himself to this and understood the inevitable outcome.
Outside the room, before their screens, the observers also grew increasingly restless, their brows furrowing.
At this point, you wanted compensation, and compensation was given. You wanted respect, and respect was granted. Even when you fucking demanded the Evil Transmutation Cult, everyone bent over backward to scrape together an Evil Transmutation Cult for you. All you have to do is nod, and this whole fucking thing is over.
It's time to wrap it up, brother.
Stop making a scene!
Keep pushing, and it won't end well for anyone!
Standing outside the interrogation room, Dugu Ming's brows knitted tighter and tighter. Feeling the vibration in his pocket, he saw his phone screen light up; a call flashed once before cutting off—a silent urge.
He reached out, pressed the intercom button on the console, and said nothing. He merely coughed once.
Another nudge.
Ji Jue turned a deaf ear, calmly continuing to sip his coffee. On the table, the minutes and seconds ticked away on his phone screen.
Only after a long while, when the clock struck the hour, did he finally put down his coffee cup.
He raised his head.
And uttered his very first words since entering the room.
Skipping trivial questions like name, gender, or age, he cut straight to the point: "You're with the Evil Transmutation Cult?"
"Wh-what? I... Yes, I am. I'm with the Evil Transmutation Cult."
The "confessor" was caught off guard, barely catching himself in time. Nodding frantically, he opened his mouth, preparing to recite the confession that had been drafted for him long beforehand. But Ji Jue cut him off, asking again:
"Were you the one who attacked me?"
"It was me!" the confessor replied resolutely, vowing with absolute conviction. "I did it! From the very start, I saw you and—"
"Is that so?"
Resting his chin in his hand, Ji Jue asked casually, "Why do I get the feeling that doesn't seem right?"
Instantly, the atmosphere stiffened. Behind the one-way glass, Dugu Ming's expression shifted slightly. Just as he was about to speak, he heard Ji Jue's voice.
"Developing over all these years, the Evil Transmutation Cult has had three main streams in total, seventeen branch lineages, and countless secondary transmissions and offshoots. The ones active in the Mid-Continent are Wuwang, Zhuanlun, Innate Wisdom, Dragon Glass Heart, Shisu, and Seven-Forked Hands—these six lineages."
Ji Jue suddenly asked, "Which lineage are you from?"
The confessor froze in bewilderment, instinctively wanting to glance toward the one-way glass.
*There are this many details?*
*Why the hell didn't you guys tell me about this?!*
Ji Jue could not help sighing as well. He turned back helplessly and glanced toward Dugu Ming's direction: *How on earth do you people handle things? Who could you fool with an act like this?!*
In that instant, Dugu Ming felt completely numb too.
This was clearly straying into everyone's blind spot. In the past, even if they had dealings in secret, they only ever referred to the Evil Transmutation Cult. Who the fuck would trace their origins and lineage branches?!
There was no helping it. Not to mention them, even members of the Evil Transmutation Cult themselves probably didn't know these details as thoroughly as what Ji Jue was spouting!
Besides, time had been short and the pressure intense; there simply hadn't been enough time for training!
And now, under Ji Jue's penetrating gaze, drops of cold sweat seeped from the confessor's forehead. Fidgeting, his lips trembled, and on pure instinct, he blindly picked one:
"It's... the Seven—"
"Hmm?"
Ji Jue's expression abruptly hardened. He stared at him with razor-sharp eyes until an epiphany struck the confessor, who hastily changed his answer: "It's Shi... um, Shisu?"
"Just as I thought."
Ji Jue nodded, looking as though he had predicted everything like a clairvoyant. "The Shisu lineage has long been active in the Mid-Continent, hopelessly entangled with the White Nation Restoration Front in secret—you in them, them in you. I knew it. You bastards never gave up your wicked ambitions and set your sights on me, didn't you?"
"That's right, exactly right!"
The confessor, having just become a brand-new member of the Shisu lineage, nodded like a woodpecker. Then, he heard Ji Jue ask yet again: "Though the circumstances vary among the branches of the Evil Transmutation Cult, most are divided into five ranks. From top to bottom: Hierophant, Deacon, Inner Circle, Witness, Novice. Which one are you?"
"Wit—"
The confessor had only uttered the start of the word tentatively when he noticed Ji Jue's eyes darken. He nimbly changed his tune: "The In... Inner Circle! I'm from the Inner Circle!"
"Oh? A core member who has received the essence of the Great Sin, no less? Not bad at all. It seems that even in the Evil Transmutation Cult, deep down you still yearn for the light."
Ji Jue finally smiled, brimming with approval. The confessor moved to offer a fawning grin in response, only to hear his voice continue: "Then tell me everything. Leniency for those who confess. How many accomplices do you have, where is your base, who is the mastermind behind you, who serves as your protective umbrella, who harbored you in the Mid-Continent for so long? Confess, down to the last detail."
"N-no accomplices. It was just me!"
Following his earlier instructions instinctively, the confessor began reciting his script word for word: "It was all me—"
As he spoke, he felt something was off.
The atmosphere shifted once more.
"Inner Circle members of Shisu always operate in groups of three or more, moving alongside a Deacon. You claim to be Inner Circle, yet you have no accomplices at all?"
Ji Jue paused and asked curiously, "Just what are you trying to cover up?"
...
The confessor sat dumbfounded, lips trembling. Just as he wanted to speak, he heard Ji Jue's soft sigh, gentle as a breeze: "Or could it be... that you're merely a pawn discarded by the Evil Transmutation Cult to draw our attention, hiding a far greater scheme behind the scenes?"
Dead silence. In the dead silence, the confessor could not utter a word.
Sweat poured down his back.
Not knowing how he was supposed to answer, he panted violently.
Only Ji Jue rose with his coffee cup, walked over to the corner, poured himself a refill, and slowly walked back to sit down. He blew on the rising steam and took a sip.
"Think. Think carefully. Answer once you've thought it through clearly," Ji Jue told him without looking up. "How can it count as forsaking darkness for light if you don't even name your accomplices? You must give up at least one name."
His gentle words echoed inside and outside the interrogation room, carried by the camera and audio equipment in all directions, reaching every observer watching.
Revealing his final price.
The pyre had already been lit. Did they really think this was a bonfire party if there wasn't even a weighty sacrifice?
Either bring out someone substantial enough to serve up as the feast so everyone could unite to turn this into an ironclad case—the participants carve up the market, the Security Bureau and Secrecy Bureau get their performance merits, the military earns commendations and glory, turning a disaster into a blessing where everyone makes a profit!
Or else, you can play by yourselves!
In an instant, out in the open and in the shadows, countless people who had only just breathed a sigh of relief tensed up once more, their blood pressure spiking.
Behind the one-way mirror, Dugu Ming could hardly control his expression.
It twitched uncontrollably.
He had never imagined Ji Jue's appetite would be so exaggerated.
He had taken the money, seized the land, and right at the finish line, with just one kick left to score, he was still thinking of taking a huge bite—and he fucking wanted it fresh, made-to-order on the spot!
He was forcing Dugu Ming, forcing all the allies of Huanyu Heavy Industries, to step forward and identify the "culprit" on his behalf!
*Advance and retreat together, huddle up for warmth—wasn't that what you said?*
*What? Brother Du, surely you wouldn't back out right after saying it? I've been so considerate of the bigger picture, so why don't I see you enduring hardships for the public good?*
In the silence, his phone vibrated again and again, its screen lighting up continuously.
Messages popped up and refreshed like a waterfall.
It was impossible to keep up.
Urges, inquiries, probing, discreet soundings...
In less than half a minute, Dugu Ming's hand behind his back had nearly gone numb. He felt as though he were gripping not a phone, but a red-hot iron potato packed with gunpowder that could blow at any second!
Until the final straw landed without a sound.
His assistant stepped forward from behind and whispered into his ear, delivering the latest intelligence: just now, a small private airship had landed in Tacheng, prepared to take off at any moment.
If he didn't make a decision now, it would be too late for everything!
"Snap—"
Gritting his teeth, Dugu Ming shattered the screen in his hand.
His mind was made up.
Beyond the one-way mirror, inside the interrogation room, the trembling, petrified confessor suddenly went into violent convulsions. As if struck by electricity, his eyes rolled back, his face contorting grotesquely.
Yet immediately after, he swiftly returned to normal.
Only his hollow pupils slowly lifted, his voice hoarse and wooden:
"I... I'll confess..."
"Now that's more like it."
Ji Jue smiled serenely. Resting his chin in his hand, he asked once more, "Then tell me, who ordered you to do this? Just who is the protective umbrella behind you?"
"It's... it's..."
That stiff face twitched, squeezing words out from between clenched teeth in a "truthful confession": "It's the president of Heihe Trading, Mudahka!"
In that instant, countless people breathed a long sigh of relief, countless people felt a chill run down their spines, and even more felt a profound sense of relief, as though granted a general amnesty.
Everyone understood that the empty stake had finally welcomed its destined master.
Now that the witch had been fitted with the noose, the bonfire feast could finally begin!
Outside Tacheng, a pale Mudahka had no time to rage or roar. Without a second thought, he hung up the phone, snatched the suitcase prepared long beforehand, and sprinted straight toward the airship that had been waiting for him.
Every second counted.
Inside the interrogation room, the questioning continued, like shovelful after shovelful of dirt thrown over the coffin lid. Gradually, the dust began to settle.
"How many of you are there?"
"One hundred... one hundred and seventy-four in total..."
"Where are you hiding?"
"In Uptown, at 198 Prosperity Avenue on the North Ring. Also, outside the city, at Acacia Ranch... the warehouse at the docks..."
The confessor's face gradually twisted into a vicious grimace as he stammered, "In the mud pits of the slums, there's also a munitions factory... He colluded with the White Nation Restoration Front and brought us in to assassinate the mayor, undermine stability, and force you into a war with the Red Nation..."
Black pots, large and round, were slammed onto Mudahka's head one after another; dirty slop buckets that could never be washed clean were dumped on him like layers of armor, piling higher and higher to help him journey ever further down the road to an early reincarnation.
As his words flowed with increasing fluency, all the sins of Tacheng and every conspiracy that had unfolded over recent days seemed to find their true master.
Everyone scrambled to shove their used toilet paper under Mudahka's backside.
In less than a few minutes, with the collaborative contributions of countless hands, Mudahka had transformed from an honored guest seated among Tacheng's dignitaries into the greatest villain in the entire Mid-Continent throughout history, the prime partner of the Evil Transmutation Cult, a diehard backer of Lu Changsheng, a sworn brother of the Great Sin, and the mastermind who stirred up every ounce of turmoil and conflict!
If all the iron in the Mid-Continent were exhausted, it still would not suffice to cast the monument of his monstrous sins; if every hard drive in the present world were filled, it would not record a fraction of a percent of his blood debts.
At this moment, tardy justice finally pedaled its tricycle right in front of everyone.
Under the confessor's denunciation, the truth stood fully revealed: Mudahka had colluded with the Evil Transmutation Cult, defiling the Mid-Continent with heinous crimes deserving of death ten thousand times over!
"Spurt—"
Gritting his teeth, after uttering the final piece of evidence incriminating Mudahka, the confessor's distorted expression finally collapsed. He suddenly opened his mouth and spat a jet of crimson blood.
Having fulfilled his final mission, he slumped over the table, lifeless.
His oil had burned dry, his lamp extinguished.
Dead.
In the silence, only the winding red stain continued to spread across the table. Droplets of crimson slid silently down the wall and ceiling.
Drip.
Inside the pitch-black coffee, a shocking streak of color bloomed, reflecting an expressionless face.
"A perfectly good cup of coffee ruined," Ji Jue murmured, lowering his gaze with a faint sigh. "What a pity."
No one answered.
He slowly stood up. Facing the one-way mirror on the wall, he straightened his spotless cuffs and tie. Giving the camera one last backward glance, he pushed the door open and walked out.
Amid the dead silence, the dust had finally settled!
"Congratulations, Mr. Ji."
Behind the one-way mirror, the long-waiting Dugu Ming looked back over, forcing a stiff smile onto his face. "Getting what you wished for truly wasn't easy."
"Whatever do you mean?"
Ji Jue grinned, making no attempt to hide his heartfelt gratitude. "As a lone outsider without backing, if not for Brother Du and Huanyu Heavy Industries sticking their necks out for me, who knows how much suffering I'd have had to endure! I'm the one who should be thanking everyone!"
"Ah..."
Dugu Ming sneered. He couldn't even be bothered to correct that ridiculous form of address anymore—it probably wouldn't do any good anyway. He merely issued a stern, measured warning: "You get away with chanting scriptures just this once, Mr. Ji. Don't go kicking up such terrifying waves next time. The rest of us aren't as bold as you; we have lives to live and businesses to run, and we can't take this kind of turmoil."
*Even if the Evil Transmutation Cult comes knocking on your door again, go deal with it your-fucking-self! Don't expect everyone else to foot the bill for you! If you make life unlivable for the rest of us, don't expect things to go well for you either!*
"Listen to you, how could that happen?" Ji Jue patted his chest and gave a resolute promise: "We craftsmen hold to a principle: if we can do it ourselves, we never trouble others. How could I trouble Brother Du with every little thing?"
"That would be for the best!"
Dugu Ming waved his hand coldly. "Since you say so, Mr. Ji, then go resolve this mess on your own."
He paused, letting out a mocking sigh: "Time is precious. If you don't act fast, I'm afraid that mastermind you worked so hard to catch will have fled back to the Empire."
*Go ahead, knock yourself out! All that effort stirring up such a storm, and in the end it's all for nothing. What did you actually get?*
*Mudahka isn't a fat sheep lying on a butcher's block waiting to be slaughtered!*
He was already prepared to watch the drama unfold—in the days ahead, you punk just wait for a rabid dog to come knocking!
"Act?"
Ji Jue tilted his head in apparent confusion. Watching Dugu Ming's gloating expression, he suddenly broke into a bright smile.
"But the action is already almost over."
BOOM!!!
In that instant, a massive roar from the distant sky finally reached their ears.
Caught off guard, Dugu Ming's face froze for a second, then drained of color.
Finally, he understood.
And in the skies beyond Tacheng, an airship that had only just lifted off was already descending slowly toward the earth amidst billowing clouds of dense smoke.
Not just in the sky—down upon the earth at this very moment, gunfire, explosions, roars, and wails erupted. Every property connected to Mudahka was engulfed in raging flames the instant the "verdict" was finalized.
Judgment and slaughter began right then and there.
"As I said, we craftsmen like to handle things ourselves—"
Before parting, Ji Jue raised his hand one last time and patted Dugu Ming on the shoulder, telling him: "A trifling matter like ruthless extermination—why trouble others with it?"
Chapter 575