Qianqiu City, Ning Province.

As Fan Donghe stepped out of the Morn-Eve Hall once again, he looked back at the towering, square, jet-black building and let out a heavy sigh. Many people whispered behind closed doors that the Morn-Eve Hall was like a coffin—once you entered, sooner or later, you would end up as a corpse.

For the past few days, the stewards had been asking the same questions over and over again. If Fan Donghe answered even a single word incorrectly, they would seize on it and interrogate him relentlessly. Or if another person’s testimony implicated Fan Donghe—no matter how trivial the matter—he would have to spend two full hours just explaining himself. After several days of this, Fang Donghe felt that his Dao heart was on the verge of collapse. Several times, he was tempted to throw caution to the wind and simply slash the few stewards sitting across from him. At other times, he thought it might be better to just give in—after all, these people were likely just trying to extort money from him before letting him off the hook.

But even if he wanted to, his family had already sold off everything of value.

After Xu Zhongxing was imprisoned,...