One Person: I, the Dragon Tiger Stall King! I Won!

17: HearingThree days later, in the Tianshi Mansion, Qingyuan Hall.

No candles were lit in the hall; natural light streamed in from the high windows, cut into beams of floating dust by the coiled dragon golden pillars, yet it couldn’t dispel the bone-deep chill within the hall.

This was a vital area of the Hall of Law Enforcement, where the air seemed to be laden with centuries of countless judgments and punishments, making it hard to breathe.

Twelve elders of the Hall of Law Enforcement, clad in dark daoist robes, sat like twelve stone statues on their high seats on both sides of the hall, their expressions solemn, their gazes sharp as torches; their combined vision formed an invisible net of law, enveloping the relaxed figure at the center of the hall.

Before the steps, Li Songyang, the Chief of the Hall of Law Enforcement, stood tall and straight like a drawn sword, his voice devoid of warmth, echoing through the vast hall: “Zhang Xuanyi! As a disciple of the Tianshi Mansion, you neglect your cultivation and instead imitate worldly merchants, setting up a private street stall and selling items of unknown origin, which has already disrupted the pure rules of our Alien World. Furthermore, you have secretly colluded with the likes of the Quanxian demon Li Wujiu and other remnants, your intentions are damnable! According to the laws of the Hall of Law Enforcement, you shall be stripped of your position as a Tianshi Mansion disciple, all your learned techniques and artifacts shall be sealed, and you shall be imprisoned in Thought Cliff, never to leave for the rest of your life!”

Every word was like a heavy hammer, striking the cold floor tiles of Qingyuan Hall.

The atmosphere in the hall grew even more solemn, as if even the floating dust had come to a standstill.

However, Zhang Xuanyi, the focus of the trial, seemed unfazed, still appearing half-asleep.

He stood there idly, a washed-out, tattered cloth spread at his feet—it was precisely his “Myriad Laws Street Stall,” renowned throughout Mount Longhu.

At this moment, the stall was empty, devoid of any rare treasures, talismans, or magical artifacts; only a single, crystal-clear tear drop floated silently in the very center of the tattered cloth, reflecting the light from outside the window, emitting a faint yet pure halo.

This was the tear dropped by Wei Zhen, the commander of the Black Armor Division, in front of the stall three days prior.

Facing Li Songyang’s thunderous accusations, Zhang Xuanyi merely stretched, yawned, and then slowly raised his head, a playful smile curling at the corner of his lips: “Chief Li, Elders, don’t be so quick to condemn me. The items on my stall have always been fair. Today, this first item will serve to prove my innocence.”

He pointed to the suspended teardrop at his feet, his voice not loud, yet it clearly reached every corner of the hall: “If I am innocent, this tear will shine; if I am guilty, it will extinguish itself. How about it?”

At these words, everyone was astonished.

“Nonsense!” an elder with a fiery temper slammed his armrest, “A mere teardrop, how can it discern good from evil? Zhang Xuanyi, do not play tricks in the Hall of Law Enforcement!”

Li Songyang’s face was ashen, and he snorted coldly: “Absurd! Do you think this is child’s play? The Hall of Law Enforcement judges cases based on ironclad evidence!”

Zhang Xuanyi seemed not to hear their reprimands, merely smiling as he looked at the tear, softly saying: “Shine.”

The moment his words fell, the teardrop, which had only been faintly glowing, suddenly burst into brilliance!

A soft yet irresistible radiance abruptly spread out, rippling through the entire Qingyuan Hall like water.

Within the light, silent scenes began to unfold.

These were not illusory projections, but a more fundamental, more genuine recreation of emotion.

In the scene, an old woman with silver hair and a haggard face lay on her sickbed, her life force like a flickering candle in the wind.

She turned her head with difficulty, her gaze passing through the window lattice, looking towards the familiar, majestic ancestral shrine in the distance.

There was no fear of death in her eyes, only endless longing, a trace of regret, and deep concern for a certain family member.

That backward glance seemed to have exhausted her last bit of strength, condensing a lifetime of yearning within it.

“It’s… it’s Madam Wei!” a young deacon exclaimed in surprise.

The faces of the elders seated high in the hall also changed simultaneously.

They recognized her as the mother of Wei Zhen, the commander of the Black Armor Division, who had passed away due to illness a year ago.

And Wei Zhen, at this moment, stood in the first row of the observer’s gallery, his eyes fixed on the scene in the light curtain, his fists clenched, knuckles white from exertion, his straight back trembling slightly.

His mother’s deepest obsession before her death was being revealed in this manner, in the most solemn hall of the Tianshi Mansion!

The entire hall was in an uproar!

No one had expected Zhang Xuanyi’s “evidence” to be such a heart-wrenching scene.

Li Songyang’s face instantly turned ashen, and he roared: “Illusion misleading the public! Zhang Xuanyi, how dare you use such evil arts to defile the deceased and manipulate people’s hearts!”

“You’re wrong.” Zhang Xuanyi shook his head, the smile on his face receding slightly, replaced by a calm that saw through everything, “Chief Li, this is not an illusion; this is ‘manifestation of wishes.’ What I sell on my stall has never been something that can be valued in spirit coins, but rather the deepest, truest thoughts in people’s hearts.”

As he spoke, he unhurriedly took out another piece of Heart Imprint Yellow Paper from his Pregnant, and gently shook it towards everyone.

On the yellow paper, light and shadow flowed, revealing two completely different texts.

On the left was the “Confession” personally written by Li Wujiu, his handwriting messy and frantic, full of resentment and malice; on the right were the blood-written accusations carved on the stone tablet with their blood when the Quanxian rebels were sealed back then, every word piercing to the core.

Comparing the two, there were seven or eight key places where the content had been artificially altered and distorted!

“Why did Quanxian rebel?” Zhang Xuanyi’s voice suddenly rose, like a morning bell and evening drum, deafening, “Because they felt that the Dao was monopolized by you high-and-mighty sects! The ladder to ascension was blocked, and a single spark was enough to start a prairie fire!”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the twelve elders with their varied expressions, finally resting on Li Songyang: “Then why do I set up a stall? Because I believe that the law should also belong to the common people! You say I am a source of chaos, but isn’t the real chaos caused by rules that forbid the common people from crying, forbid Daoists from having regrets, and forbid the defeated from repenting?”

“Presumptuous!” an elder finally could not hold back, slamming his hand on the table and rising abruptly.

But his anger instantly weakened when he met the shocking blood-written characters on the yellow paper.

The traces of alteration were a secret known implicitly among these high-ranking officials, but now it was laid bare by a junior disciple, and no one dared to look directly at that sin and punishment from the past.

In this tense silence, a figure walked out from the observer’s gallery.

It was Wei Zhen.

He was expressionless, walking step by step to the center of the hall, to Zhang Xuanyi’s stall.

Everyone’s eyes were focused on him.

He didn’t look at anyone, simply took something from his Pregnant and gently placed it on the tattered cloth stall.

It was a charred talisman fragment, struck by lightning and fire, the token of his identity as the commander of the Black Armor Division.

“I once firmly believed that order could suppress all fires in the world.” Wei Zhen’s voice was hoarse, yet exceptionally clear, “But last night, I dreamt of my mother. She didn’t speak in the dream, she just looked at the Black Armor Division uniform I was wearing and asked me: ‘Zhen’er, are you wearing an official robe, or shackles?’”

He looked up, meeting Zhang Xuanyi’s eyes for the first time, his gaze incredibly complex, filled with struggle, relief, and determination.

“I announce that, effective immediately, the Black Armor Division will temporarily not take any coercive measures against the ‘Myriad Laws Street Stall.’”

At these words, a deathly silence fell upon the Hall of Law Enforcement, where a pin drop could be heard.

Wei Zhen’s voice continued: “Because the items it collects—tears, obsessions, unburnable incense, unspoken last words… these are all not within the regulatory scope of my Black Armor Division.”

These words were both a declaration and an explanation.

He used the “rules” that the Hall of Law Enforcement valued most to give himself a perfect reason, and also gave Zhang Xuanyi a protective charm.

Li Songyang’s pupils suddenly constricted; he stared intently at the charred talisman placed on the stall by Wei Zhen, as if he had seen something extremely terrifying.

He suddenly lowered his voice, speaking word by word, as if to himself, yet also as if warning everyone: “Wanfa Pavilion… three hundred years ago, it was also considered heretical for ‘collecting all true hearts under heaven,’ and in one night, the pavilion was destroyed and its people perished… Today, are you going to repeat history?”

As the words “Wanfa Pavilion” were uttered, the faces of several older elders changed dramatically, and deep apprehension appeared in their eyes.

In this solidified atmosphere, an old and suppressed cough came from outside the hall.

“Cough… cough cough…”

Everyone looked over at the sound, only to see a hunched old man, leaning on a well-worn, shiny Old Pipe, slowly walking into Qingyuan Hall.

None of the guards at the hall entrance stepped forward to stop him, as if tacitly acknowledging his entry.

It was Old Pipe.

He walked through the crowd as if no one else was there, reaching Zhang Xuanyi’s stall, his cloudy eyes sweeping over the still-glowing teardrop, then looking at the charred talisman.

He fumbled in his Pregnant for a long time, pulling out a cracked fragment of a broken stele, and also placed it on the stall.

On the fragment, a long-blurred character “Quan” was carved.

Old Pipe took a puff from his pipe, the smoke he exhaled carrying a stale herbal scent.

He spoke hoarsely, his voice sounding as if it had been abraded by sandpaper: “Quanxian has split. That madman Li Wujiu took half the people and retreated to the mountains, no longer concerning himself with worldly affairs. But the other half… they want to buy a talisman from you.”

He looked up at Zhang Xuanyi, and in his cloudy eyes, a rare hint of pleading flashed: “To buy a talisman… that allows them to see the words they never had a chance to say, the people they never had a chance to meet, back then.”

Old Pipe’s voice dropped even lower: “If you dare to sell, they dare to cry. To cry with their lives.”

Zhang Xuanyi grinned, revealing a mouthful of white teeth, bright in the sunlight: “Business is open, all are welcome. My stall never closes.”

“Good.” Old Pipe gave him a deep look, nodded, and said no more.

He turned around, leaning on his pipe, and slowly walked out of the hall.

The moment he turned, the dark red spark in the bowl of his pipe suddenly flashed, exceptionally bright, as if silently mourning an old era that was fading away.

This grand hearing ultimately ended inconclusively, in an eerie calm.

Zhang Xuanyi bent down, slowly packing up his tattered cloth stall.

As he rolled up the tear, the charred talisman, and the stele fragment together, Li Songyang’s cold voice sounded behind him.

“The Hall of Law Enforcement will not remain silent forever.”

Zhang Xuanyi paused in his packing; he didn’t turn around, simply hoisted the rolled-up tattered cloth onto his shoulder and said faintly: “Then you can come and seal it off anytime. But before you do, you have to tell me one thing.”

He turned his head, and the moonlight happened to stream in diagonally from the high window, illuminating half of his face, his eyes clear and sharp, as if able to pierce through people’s hearts.

“In your heart, is there a lamp, one that you would risk your life to look back at?”

Li Songyang froze completely, his perpetually unchanging ice-cold face showing a crack for the first time, a trace of undisguised bewilderment.

The night wind swept through the empty Qingyuan Hall, rustling the tattered cloth stall on Zhang Xuanyi’s shoulder.

The four characters “Myriad Laws Street Stall” embroidered in gold thread on the stall shimmered faintly with golden light under the moonlight, as if softly narrating an eternal truth: the path of freedom is not on the mountain peaks beyond the nine heavens, but deep within the bustling human world.

With his back to the moonlight, Zhang Xuanyi’s shadow stretched long.

He whispered in his heart to the voice only he could hear: “System, for the next item, I want to sell ‘forgiveness.’”

In his mind, the cold system interface was silent for a moment, then a new line of prompt text appeared:

“New mission issued: Make an enemy who once harmed you willingly come forward and return the harm they inflicted upon you.”

Zhang Xuanyi stopped at the entrance of Qingyuan Hall, he looked up at the star-filled sky obscured by clouds outside the hall, and the corners of his mouth slowly curved upwards.

Enemy? Return harm? This was much more interesting than selling tears.

He didn’t know that a greater storm was already brewing quietly deep within the sea of clouds on Mount Longhu.

And he was the center of that storm.