"Holy Eye?"
Tang Xiangping's brows furrowed tightly as he stared at the water mirror, where a jade talisman engraved with a single eye shimmered faintly. "What kind of faction is this?"
The intelligence elder beside him immediately stepped forward and bowed. "Reporting to Lord Xiangping, 'Holy Eye' is a mysterious force that suddenly rose to prominence about twenty years ago. Their operations are extremely secretive, and they've expanded rapidly. At present, they have branches in several domains across the Divine Realm. However, the core members never reveal themselves, and no one knows who truly leads them."
He paused for a moment, then cautiously asked, "My lord, should I send someone to investigate the origins of this 'Holy Eye'?"
"Investigate?"
Tang Xiangping's lips curved into a cold sneer, his gaze sharp as a blade. "No need."
The elder froze. "My lord?"
"Look carefully."
Tang Xiangping pointed at the frozen image in the water mirror showing Tang Yurou speaking with the black-robed man. "When Yurou saw this so-called member of the 'Holy Eye,' she showed no sign of wariness. Her tone was relaxed—completely trusting, as if she were speaking to one of her own. For her to act that way, the power behind this man must be someone she knew extremely well."
He magnified the scene and froze it at the moment Tang Yurou opened her mouth. "Now, look at the shape of her lips. There's no sound, but it's obvious she's saying three words—'Meng Zhaoran.'"
A collective gasp swept through the hall.
"Meng Zhaoran? You mean the son-in-law?"
"Why would he kill Lady Yurou? Aren't they husband and wife?"
The intelligence elder's face turned pale with shock. "My lord, this… this might be a misunderstanding! For years, Young Lord Meng's standing in the Meng clan has only strengthened thanks to Lady Yurou's support. By reason, he shouldn't—"
"Shouldn't?"
Tang Xiangping let out a cold snort. A murderous aura rolled off him like a rising tide. "People's hearts are hidden behind flesh! That brat Meng Zhaoran has always been ambitious. Over the years, he's secretly cultivated his own private forces under the shelter of our Tang clan. Did he really think I didn't know?"
He slammed his palm down onto the table. The impact sent a thunderous boom through the chamber as he barked, "Go! Bring that wretch Meng Zhaoran here immediately!"
—
A day later.
Meng Zhaoran entered the Tang clan's Council Hall with a trace of unease.
The moment he stepped in, he felt a chilling, bone-piercing aura lock onto him.
Tang Xiangping sat on the main seat, staring at him with eyes sharp as twin ice blades. His voice was as cold as a frozen dagger cutting through steel. "Meng Zhaoran, who gave you the courage to raise your hand against Yurou?"
"What?"
Meng Zhaoran trembled, his face instantly filled with shock. "Xiangping, what are you saying? Who's spreading such lies? How could I possibly harm Yurou?"
But inside, waves of panic and disbelief crashed in his chest. 'Could it be… Yang Cheng acted that fast?'
"Lies?"
Tang Xiangping's cold snort echoed like a thunderclap. "Yurou's soul lamp has already gone out. And you still dare deny it?"
"Her… her soul lamp went out?"
A faint, barely noticeable flicker of delight flashed in Meng Zhaoran's eyes.
His plan to kill with a borrowed knife had actually worked. Yang Cheng truly hadn't let him down.
But the trace of joy vanished in an instant, replaced by a mask of grief and devastation. "Yurou… how could this happen…?"
Yet, that fleeting gleam in his eyes did not escape Tang Xiangping's notice.
Tang Xiangping's expression turned darker than ever, his voice boiling with rage. "Meng Zhaoran, even now, you still dare to lie?"
"I'm not lying!"
Meng Zhaoran hurriedly protested, his tone filled with desperation and sincerity. "Xiangping, you know very well how much Yurou has done for me. Without her, there wouldn't be a Meng Zhaoran today. How could I ever harm her?"
Then, as if a thought struck him, he quickly continued, "I know what must have happened! Yurou went to the Wasteland Realm this time, didn't she? She had old grudges with that Yang Cheng and with Tang Xingyu. It must be them! Yang Cheng and Tang Xingyu killed Yurou and framed me for it on purpose!"
He thought the excuse was flawless.
After all, the conflict between Tang Yurou, Yang Cheng, and Tang Xingyu was well known—perfect to redirect suspicion.
"Framed you?"
Tang Xiangping sneered coldly and waved his hand.
A water mirror appeared once more in the center of the hall, replaying the final moments of Tang Yurou's life.
The black-clad man appeared holding the "Holy Eye Order." Tang Yurou had dropped her guard completely, only to have her head severed in an instant.
"Look for yourself!"
Tang Xiangping pointed to the mirror. "That man was holding the Holy Eye Order. Yurou had no defense against him. Tell me—besides you, who else could command the Holy Eye?"
Meng Zhaoran stared at the image as if struck by lightning, his face turning pale as paper. "No… impossible. That must be fake! Someone forged it—it must be Yang Cheng!"
He suddenly remembered that he himself had told Yang Cheng about Tang Yurou's whereabouts. In a flash of realization, he blurted, "Yes! It's him! Yang Cheng knew about the Holy Eye because of me. He disguised himself as one of them to kill Yurou and pin the blame on me!"
Tang Xiangping looked at him with icy calm.
"I admit," Meng Zhaoran said hurriedly, his face drenched in sweat, "I was upset with Yurou before. I did leak her plan to deal with Yang Cheng, hoping she'd suffer a little setback—but I swear, I never wanted her dead!"
His words only drew bitter laughter from the Tang clan elders.
One of them scoffed, "Meng Zhaoran, do you take us for fools? Yang Cheng is just some bumpkin from the Wasteland Realm. He's never even set foot in the Primordial Chaos Divine Realm. How would he know about the Holy Eye, much less forge an exact replica of the Holy Eye Order?"
"Exactly!" another elder added coldly. "The Holy Eye is your hidden card. Before this, not even our Tang clan knew of its existence. How could an outsider possibly learn about it?"
Tang Xiangping slowly rose to his feet. A terrifying wave of Yang God pressure burst forth like a tsunami, crashing down on Meng Zhaoran and pinning him motionless to the ground.
"Meng Zhaoran," Tang Xiangping's voice was as cold as iron, "your excuses will only make your death worse."
His tone turned utterly frigid, like something echoing from the depths of the Netherworld. "Guards, take him away. Throw him into the Water Prison."
He paused, then added, "Send word to the Meng clan's patriarch. Tell him to come to the Tang clan in person. Inform him that we will execute Meng Zhaoran—to avenge Yurou!"
"Yes, my lord!"
Several Tang clan guards stepped forward and, ignoring Meng Zhaoran's frantic struggles, dragged him away roughly.
"Tang Xiangping! You can't do this! I'm innocent!"
Meng Zhaoran's desperate screams echoed through the great hall, fading into silence as he was taken away.
"Hmph."
Tang Xiangping watched coldly as the doors closed behind him. The fury in his eyes didn't fade—only a killing chill remained.
—
In the Wasteland Realm, at the Myriad Phenomena Dao Academy.
Yang Cheng sat cross-legged in quiet cultivation when he heard the soft sound of approaching footsteps outside his courtyard.
He lifted his gaze just as a woman in a light lake-blue dress stepped gracefully through the doorway.
Her bearing was gentle yet dignified, her beauty tempered by the calm poise of years. Unlike Tang Yurou's imposing presence, she carried the serene grace of a noble matron from a great clan.
After entering, the woman's eyes lingered briefly on Yang Cheng before she bowed slightly and spoke with polite respect.
"Your Highness, Crown Prince Yang Cheng of Great Zhou, forgive my sudden intrusion. I am Song Shuyue, from the Lin clan of the southern region of the Horn Constellation Realm. My husband is the current clan head, Lin Feng."