◎There is only one truth!◎
[My dear, please look at me once more.]
The current score tally among the six sects is as follows:
- Clearwater Sect: 7 points
- Mountain and Sea Sect: 4 points
- Wandering Blossom Sect: 4 points
- Ten Thousand Monks Sect: 3 points
- Solemn Inscriptions Sect: 1 point
- Artifact and Pill Sect: 1 point
The projections showed steady progress from each sect.
Following closely behind Lin Shuang’s trio, the Ten Thousand Monks Sect was the second to tear down the Seeker’s Board.
The Hundred Flowers Sect was the first to build rapport with the embroidery shop’s seamstresses. They unearthed clues about the missing Huiniang: just a month before her wedding, she had still been joyful, full of anticipation, and had personally gone to the shop to choose the style for her bridal coronet.
Deeply in love with Young Master Wang, every other word from Huiniang’s lips had been about her future husband, Wang Jian.
“Ah, who would have thought? Just when her happy days were about to begin, she suddenly vanished.”
“Most likely some scoundrel took a liking to her appearance.”
{Hundred Flowers Sect was the first to discover that Huiniang was exceedingly beautiful: +2 points.}
{Hundred Flowers Sect was the first to learn of Huiniang’s deep mutual love with Wang Jian: +2 points.}
Each of the six sects advanced through a different trial cavern, progressing at varying paces.
[Who would have thought the leading group would be the Clearwater Sect, and Lin Shuang, who supposedly had the least experience with the puppet segment…]
[A word from someone who’s been there: So what? This round, the one who first finds the culprit will earn a massive lead—an overwhelming surge in points compared to the other five sects.]
[Exactly. Clearwater Sect’s lead is marginal. They haven’t even caught sight of the villain! What’s there to be smug about?]
The audience of disciples watching the projection left a flood of comments.
The Hundred Flowers Sect Senior Sister, who was in charge of explaining the trial rankings, spoke with considerable confidence.
“From what I know, every textual hint within the Nine-Thousandth Layer is useful.”
“Just now, Lin Shuang and her group ostentatiously displayed the Seeker’s Board on their persons. Zhenchuan Nine-Thousand gave a warning—that it might be a double-edged sword.”
“If their performance falters afterward, they may provoke resentment from the Wang family.”
“At that point, an advantage could swiftly turn to a disadvantage. They may even suffer the Wang family’s punishment and lose points on this level. Senior Brother Xu Xiang, what do you think?”
Xu Xiang, the Inner Sect steward of Clearwater Sect, had never taken part in duels or the Zhenchuan Nine-Thousand trials.
He belonged to the logistical support team that quietly facilitated disciples’ training.
Upon hearing this, Xu Xiang simply nodded.
“A cultivator’s every word and action will reverberate through the mortal realm.”
“It is only right to act and speak with caution.”
[Whoa, he doesn’t even support his own people.]
[Always telling hard truths—he truly is Clearwater Sect’s Xu Xiang.]
In the projection, the much-maligned Lin Shuang trio came face to face with the originator of the Seeker’s Board—Wang Jian.
Wang Jian wore what seemed to be a plain robe in celestial blue. His hair was tied up simply with a worn jade hairpin.
His features bore the air of a scholar, but sorrow was etched between his brows, impossible to mask.
Though he appeared no older than thirty, his temples and forehead were streaked with white.
Having lost his beloved, his once jet-black hair had turned silver overnight.
When he saw Lin Shuang and her companions, the despair and grief in his expression finally eased. His bloodshot eyes filled with a glimmer of hope.
“You three…”
His voice was hoarse, almost inhuman.
Meng Zi, blade slung over his shoulder, got straight to the point. “Don’t worry. Leave it to us. What happened to her?”
Lin Shuang averted her gaze from Wang Jian’s sorrowful figure and scanned the room, which was still decked in red silk and double-happiness characters, clearly a bridal chamber.
The wedding bed was laid with an untouched pair of mandarin duck quilts, everything perfectly arranged in advance.
The bride’s vanity and embroidery frame stood neatly in place.
“Huiniang disappeared the day before our wedding.”
“Other seamstresses from her embroidery workshop, even her maid Xiaofeng, said they saw her the day before. But when they woke up the next morning, she was simply gone—vanished without a trace.”
As Wang Jian spoke, he collapsed dazedly onto the dressing stool beside him.
It was as if all the energy had been drained from his body.
“At first I thought maybe something urgent had come up and she didn’t have time to leave me a note.”
“But now it’s been thirteen days, and still no word…”
Meng Zi shook his head with sympathy.
“What cultivation method do you practice?” Lin Shuang suddenly asked.
[???]
[Oh damn, I was about to cry, and now she’s questioning the ‘widower’ about his cultivation method?]
[This Lin Shuang from Clearwater Sect has a heart of ice. Is she practicing the Ice Soul Art?]
[Wait a second, isn’t the suspicious point whether Huiniang was carrying a rare treasure? Why ask about Wang Jian’s cultivation?]
Disciples from all sects began speculating.
Only those from Clearwater Sect remained uninterested in such chatter.
They were long used to this.
[What’s so strange about asking about puppet techniques?]
[Exactly. No need to make a fuss. Maybe she’s going to teach Wang Jian a detection technique next, make him hunt the culprit himself, recover his bride, and complete the mission solo.]
[???]
Does everyone in Clearwater Sect have a screw loose?
That was the general consensus among the disciples watching the projection.
Sure enough, in the next moment, even Wang Jian himself couldn’t hold back his bewilderment.
He stared at Lin Shuang in shock and disbelief, voice edged with reproach.
“Fellow cultivator, why are you asking about my cultivation method? With Huiniang’s fate unknown, shouldn’t you be investigating that first?”
He had already downgraded her to mere “fellow cultivator.”
[Respect level dropping.]
[Even if they complete the trial, their rating won’t be high. In puppet stages, you must earn the puppet’s recognition—don’t forget that.]
[They really are new to the Inner Sect…]
Faced with Wang Jian’s wounded and accusatory gaze, Lin Shuang gave a slight nod.
He was, indeed, a sensible puppet.
His foremost concern was the most urgent—he was desperate to find Huiniang.
Her unrelated question had displeased him.
Lin Shuang fully understood Wang Jian’s rebuke and anger.
“I apologize. I was merely curious—or rather, I should say I was conducting a routine inquiry into all individuals closely connected to the missing person.”
“What? You suspect me?”
Wang Jian’s face darkened.
Meng Zi, blade resting on his shoulder, immediately cast a vigilant look at him.
Lin Shuang pressed her lips together.
Back at the Li family village in Zhenchuan, there had already been a hint—those rushing to complete puppet-related missions often missed the bigger picture and took entirely wrong directions.
In reality, when a wife goes missing, the husband is not an uncommon perpetrator.
The one who reports the case might also be the one who committed the crime.
If Wang Jian’s suspicion couldn’t be ruled out, then any clue she obtained from him might be fabricated.
And from the very beginning, the investigation would go down a futile path.
A waste of time.
“These past ten years, I’ve kept up with cultivation-world bulletins. Of all murder cases, over thirty percent were committed by someone the victim knew.”
Huangfu Yuan’s ink-black pupils contracted sharply.
Tears of sorrow froze at the corners of Wang Jian’s eyes before slipping silently down his stunned face.
[What…?]
[Is that true? Has anyone from the Mountain and Sea Sect cleared this trial and can confirm?]
[No way. There’s another culprit.]
[…]
[She sounded so convincing I really thought Wang Jian might be the villain.]
[Lin Shuang from Clearwater Sect, don’t say such things. A man who kills his wife deserves divine punishment! I nearly lost my calm listening—my cultivation heart wavered!]
[There’s nothing wrong with suspicion itself. But Wang Jian is innocent. Didn’t the Wandering Blossom Sect already earn score points showing the couple was deeply in love? That clue alone rules him out.]
[So that’s it. Every scoring clue is meaningful.]
[Still, that “acquaintance as the culprit” comment sent chills down my spine. Wait—why is she tracking homicide stats in the cultivation world? Isn’t that even scarier!?]
In the projection, Lin Shuang’s suspicion held firm.
Huangfu Yuan stared coldly at Wang Jian, dark pupils glinting with latent ferocity.
Clearly, he believed her words.
[This is a waste of time. Stop suspecting him and get on with finding more clues.]
Among the spectators, Bai Yu and a fish-scaled disciple both wore grim expressions.
Their lord had long harbored the belief that it was the late Demon King’s closest human friend—a powerful cultivator in the Tribulation Stage—who took advantage of his inner darkness and hunted him down.
Lin Shuang’s instinctive suspicion of Wang Jian aligned perfectly with that long-standing belief.
Bai Yu closed his eyes, unable to watch further.
This test was torture for their lord.
After all, not every loved one will betray you.
Not every partner is unworthy of trust.
Their lord had walked alone for years, and even they had never fully understood his heart.
His distrust had never changed.
“What now? Suspecting Wang Jian is clearly the wrong track. It’s just made him resent them,” the fish-scaled disciple muttered anxiously.
Bai Yu had no answer. He stared at Lin Shuang’s image in the projection, momentarily lost.
So, you too are this suspicious… have you never trusted anyone by your side?
Bai Yu wavered.
But in the projection, Lin Shuang acted faster than any of them expected.
“Fellow cultivator Wang Jian, I hope you can understand,” she said calmly.
“We cannot recreate the original scene. We can only piece together Huiniang’s disappearance from secondhand accounts.”
“A single word can send an investigation a thousand miles off course.”
“If anyone lies, we waste precious time—time that would be harmful to Huiniang’s fate.”
She wasn’t paranoid.
Her suspicion was methodical—formulate hypotheses, test them, eliminate them, and proceed to the next lead.
“All reasonable suspicion is meant to help us find Huiniang’s whereabouts as quickly as possible.”
As she spoke, her Eyes of Insight technique from the 1198th level began to operate. Her vision, now nearly at the peak of Foundation Establishment, scanned the fluctuations of spiritual energy around Wang Jian.
Her eyes were a living lie detector.
She saw his spiritual flow shift from shock and slight irritation back to calm.
There was no hostility, no anger, no defense.
Lin Shuang let out a small breath.
Huangfu Yuan lowered his gaze.
“I see.”
Although Wang Jian still looked displeased, it was merely the natural irritation of someone falsely accused. He no longer harbored anger over her earlier questioning nor over her perceived disregard for his fiancée’s disappearance.
“I am a painter. Most of my Wang family practices the Ink Method of Mountains and Rivers. I inherited that family legacy.”
Wang Jian spoke at last.
The three from Clearwater Sect exchanged glances.
The Screen of Thousand Mountains and Ten Thousand Waters.
They had encountered it before at the Myriad Scrolls Library in Zhenchuan.
No wonder it was the Wang family that posted the Seeker’s Board and issued the task for this trial.
So the Wang clan were cultivators who specialized in brush and ink.
Lin Shuang’s expression shifted subtly.
The Nine-Thousand Trials may bear absurd names, but each level had its own coherent backstory and internal logic governing its puppet roles.
“Our family has many painters—it’s no secret. Most folks in East City know it. That’s what defines us—calligraphy and painting.”
Wang Jian offered a bitter smile. He walked to the vanity and picked up an unused eyebrow brush.
“Of all the calligraphy shops, eighty percent belong to my Wang clan.”
Meng Zi looked like he was silently saying knew it—those shops are important.
[So you could’ve reached the Wang family through the shops. Makes sense now.]
[Wait, didn’t the Wandering Blossom Sect search through all the stores? How’d they miss this?]
Lin Shuang frowned. “Are there many cultivators in this city?”
Wang Jian shook his head. “The pieces on display in those shops are all mundane. Plain. Only acquaintances and esteemed guests are invited to the inner hall to see our true brushwork—our enchanted ink artifacts.”
[No wonder…]
His answer, however, was slightly off-topic.
Lin Shuang sighed. It seemed there were no puppet helpers on this level.
She surveyed the bridal chamber and soon noticed the mountain-and-river embroidery screen. The sheer force and vitality of the brushwork was not something an ordinary woman could manage.
“Were these patterns based on your paintings?”
“Yes. These are Huiniang’s embroidery works.”
At last, Wang Jian revealed a faint smile tinged with nostalgia.
“Our bond was forged through art. She was a talented woman. After we met, she often copied my ink paintings and turned them into embroidered masterpieces.”
“I didn’t even know… Until we agreed to marry. Then she gave them to me.”
It was a love built on mutual admiration, affection born of shared artistic spirit.
Lin Shuang nodded with sympathy and finally deactivated her Eyes of Insight. Her eyes were red and swollen from overuse, brimming with tears.
The fluctuation of spiritual energy around Wang Jian mirrored his emotional state.
He bore no animosity toward her previous suspicion—no defenses, no pretenses.
He hadn’t lied. The raw emotion stirred by his memories was genuine, unmistakable.
“I’m sorry. I was disrespectful to have suspected you.”
Lin Shuang wiped her tears and was quick to apologize to the man who had lost his bride.
Wang Jian blinked in surprise. Seeing her reddened eyes overflowing with tears, he suddenly choked up too.
“Why are you crying… is it because of Huiniang?”
Tears streamed down Lin Shuang’s cheeks, unstoppable.
It’s the Eyes of Insight technique, alright?
The side effect of this cultivation method was burning pain and soreness in the eyes.
But before she could explain, Wang Jian covered his face with his hands and burst into sobs.
Lin Shuang: “…Ah.”
[Wang Jian never expected that an outsider like her would weep for Huiniang.]
Just moments ago, she had doubted him, seeming indifferent to Huiniang’s fate. But now she was crying so sorrowfully.
So, she’s not a cold-hearted cultivator after all.]
Her sorrow, felt so deeply, brought comfort to Wang Jian’s heart—and made him feel guilty for having misunderstood her.
He was overwhelmed with grief and remorse.
Ah…
All those who had tried to console him since Huiniang’s disappearance… those who promised to help, who urged him to stay strong… How could they possibly understand the pain that tormented him day after day?
No amount of words could compare to her silent tears. At this moment, Wang Jian missed Huiniang more than ever.
[Lin Shuang of the Clearwater Sect has earned Wang Jian’s guilt.]
Meng Zi: “…”
Huangfu Yuan: “…”
His ten fingers, clenched tightly within his sleeves, slowly relaxed.
The ink-black pupils in his eyes dilated, catching the last light of sunset.
Wang Jian was not a wife-killer.
Clearwater Sect’s Lin Shuang and her two companions have become Wang Jian’s honored guests.
[?!]
[…??]
[Wait—just because she cried?]
[Wang Jian had a change of heart, feeling guilty, and realized he’d wrongly judged a virtuous person.]
[No matter how many times it happens, I still can’t understand these puppets’ moral compasses!]
[From winter into spring, from warm spring into summer—what came before was cold snow and ice, and that contrast makes the thaw all the more memorable.]
[So the message is, I should insult you first, then praise you?]
[You’re asking for a beating!]
The comments exploded in a textual brawl.
All sects were locked in fierce debate.
Only the Clearwater Sect disciples remained calm as ever.
{Clearwater Sect’s gain of Wang Jian’s guilt yields no additional score.}
[Ah, then it’s fine.]
[Good—emotions are permitted, but useless for cultivation. That’s exactly how it should be.]
But as the text drifted off the screen, a new message from the Zhenchuan Nine-Thousand system appeared:
{Wang Jian’s guilt may have an effect within the Nine-Thousand Trials. A valuable thing—and a dangerous one. Thus, it grants no additional points.}
Er…
[Yikes. So it’s like respect level points.]
Even Lin Shuang was a little surprised, still wiping the corners of her teary eyes.
But her peripheral vision quickly caught sight of the desk hidden behind the embroidery screen.
Upon it was a vivid ink painting of two tigers locked in combat.
One dominant tiger stood tall, pressing its foe to the ground with a paw and roaring at the sky. The sheer ferocity of the scene seemed ready to burst from the paper.
“Oh, that’s a sample Huiniang asked me to paint for her embroidery,” Wang Jian explained, following her gaze.
Lin Shuang nodded.
Just before being teleported to the Wang residence, she had seen the embroidery workshops along the road.
They featured not only women’s accessories, but also home decor like embroidered screens and men’s robe patterns—images of lions, tigers, bamboo, landscapes—varied and intricate.
“Some of the samples felt too timid to her, so I helped bolster their strength,” Wang Jian said softly. His tone was sweet, though shaded with melancholy.
He had finished the artwork… but Huiniang was nowhere to be found.
“Oh, right,” he added with a guilty expression, drawing a bundle of lightly pine-scented handwritten letters from his sleeve and offering them to Lin Shuang.
“These are all the letters Huiniang once wrote to me.”
“I don’t know if they’ll be useful. I’ve reread them over and over these past days, hoping there might be some hidden message she left behind…”
{Clearwater Sect has obtained Huiniang’s personal letters—+2 points!}
[Uh… and the other sects?]
[Could this be triggered by “Wang Jian’s guilt”?]
…What are Wandering Blossom Sect and Mountain and Sea Sect even doing?]
The viewing disciples were left speechless.
Looking closely, one could see that Xiao Qi’s group from the Mountain and Sea Sect was still gently consoling “Wang Jian,” inquiring about clues regarding Huiniang.
The Wandering Blossom Sect was doing the same.
But their version of Wang Jian had started his story from the very beginning—how he and Huiniang first met.
“That night, I had just stepped out of the calligraphy shop when I saw moonlight glinting through the cracks in the blue-brick road, shimmering like water…”
“There wasn’t a soul on the street. But I heard footsteps.”
“That was her—Huiniang. You have no idea how beautiful she was. I turned around… and in one glance, I was lost.”
He had fallen in love back then.
And now, he was falling again.
The moment the Mountain and Sea Sect and Wandering Blossom Sect disciples mentioned Huiniang, Wang Jian’s eyes grew hazy.
His sea of consciousness, worn down by grief and sleepless nights, drifted like a man intoxicated. In that dazed state, he spoke with deep emotion, spinning a moving tale of love.
The disciples of the Wandering Blossom Sect, who loved romance and storytelling, were utterly captivated. Bo Cai even whipped out a calligraphy brush and began frantically recording every detail.
Xiao Qi of the Mountain and Sea Sect, however, frowned and tried to interrupt their “Wang Jian,” only to be stopped by his senior.
“Wait. Most puppets speak with purpose. The clues about Huiniang might be buried in this story.”
Still doubtful, Xiao Qi cut in anyway. “Fellow Wang, what has Huiniang done in recent days? Who has she met? Any signs of strangeness?”
But Wang Jian merely answered with brief replies and returned to his original narrative thread.
“Anything unusual lately?” Wang Jian repeated, eyes glistening with bittersweet memories. “We were so close to the wedding. She kept talking about how we met, as if reliving it gave her joy.”
“The first day we met, I was holding a freshly finished painting, and she kept sneaking glances at me.”
“The next day, I went to her and asked for her name…”
“The third day…”
Xiao Qi’s eyes began to spiral like mosquito coils.
Meanwhile, the Wandering Blossom Sect disciples listened with glowing faces.
Ten Thousand Monks Sect disciples had also arrived at Wang Jian’s house by then. They gently knocked their wooden fish rhythmically.
Trained in silent meditation, they too found themselves unable to interrupt Wang Jian.
[…]
[This version of Wang Jian has a flaw. If you ask him about Huiniang, he’ll start from their most vivid memory—how they met. If you cut him off, he becomes unsettled and has to go back to the beginning again just to find his flow.]
[Well, it’s not impossible to make him speak faster… For example, Clearwater Sect’s Lin Shuang asked the right question to “scratch his itch,” and he started talking.]
[But if you ask broad questions like “Was there anything strange?”, “What’s her routine?”, “Who does she know?”—he’ll start from the top every time.]
[Because he doesn’t know what counts as useful information. He’s so desperate to find her, he doesn’t want to leave out even a single detail.]
[So he tells you everything. Truly pitiful. The Wandering Blossom Sect has a similar trial—the disciple must ask extremely targeted questions.]
[So besides crying, what did Lin Shuang actually ask?]
“She asked very specific questions.”
Finally, the Senior Sister from the Wandering Blossom Sect, who was explaining the trial rankings, appeared once more to clarify for the confused spectators.
“The moment she stepped inside, she asked what cultivation method Wang Jian practiced. That led to the discovery that he was skilled in painting and calligraphy.”
“From there, she connected it to the embroidered screen in the room, which led to the realization that Huiniang had used his paintings as embroidery patterns…”
At this point, even the disciples who hadn’t yet attempted this trial began to understand.
Because the subject had touched on Huiniang’s creations, it prompted Wang Jian to think of her handwritten letters—and thus, he produced them.
If Lin Shuang hadn’t correctly guessed that Wang Jian was a painter from the start, there would’ve been no way to interrupt what would’ve become a long, winding tale.
Meanwhile, the Lin Shuang within the projection was already flipping through the thick bundle of handwritten letters.
Each page carried a faint scent of pine.
The handwriting was delicate and elegant. Most pages included hand-drawn designs of flowers and plants meant for embroidery.
—June 4th: Passed the calligraphy shop today, and thought of Wang Lang… [Chrysanthemum motif]
—July 3rd: Wang Lang, tonight’s moon reminds me of what you once said—whenever the moon is bright and clouds are sparse, you’ll think of me, painting my image from the railing. Is tonight such a night? [Osmanthus motif]
—October: Wang Lang is radiant like the moon, full of talent. Aunt Zhang next door said a seamstress like me could never match someone like you. Sigh. [Dendrobium orchid motif]
—December: Xiaofeng said that Qiuyu Pavilion received a fresh batch of fish… [Rhododendron motif]
—March 7th: Another full moon. Flowers in March bloom upon every branch. [Water Lotus motif]
—April 13th: Wang Lang, would you come pick me up from the embroidery house tomorrow? [Wintersweet motif]
After finishing the stack, Lin Shuang passed the letters to Huangfu Yuan and Meng Zi.
Meanwhile, in other parts of the projection, the disciples from various sects—Xiao Qi among them—gradually began piecing the story together as Wang Jian spoke.
“You mentioned Aunt Zhang who lives next to Huiniang, and her maid Xiaofeng. Can we meet them?” they asked.
All versions of Wang Jian across the different trial zones nodded simultaneously.
[So it seems getting the letters didn’t give Clearwater Sect any unfair advantage.]
[Right. Whether through letters or oral narrative, the clues point to the same people and places.]
[It’s fair—everyone can uncover the leads.]
With this system message, most of the audience visibly relaxed.
But in the next moment, the Lin Shuang from projection zone six spoke again:
“Huiniang’s letters—do they end with this one from April?”
—April 13th: Wang Lang, would you come pick me up from the embroidery house tomorrow? [Wintersweet motif]
“Did you go to pick her up that day?”
Wang Jian paused, sorrow written across his face. He shook his head, then nodded.
“I was in seclusion, working on a large piece. It wasn’t something that could be finished in a day or two.”
“When I left my study—around three days later—the date had long passed.”
“But that night, I did go to see her. Our wedding was just two days away. They say the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other in the three days before the wedding…”
Wang Jian lowered his head.
“I should’ve just resisted the urge and not gone to see her that night…” Wang Jian’s voice was filled with unspeakable regret.
“That was the last time you saw her? Did she say anything to you?” Meng Zi had been quietly reading the letters, but now his patience wore thin.
Wang Jian gave a bitter smile and shook his head. “No. She probably had a lot of embroidery work that day. By the time I got there, she was already asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake her… and, truth be told, I was afraid it would bring bad luck. I figured—what’s two days? We were getting married soon. So I just watched her quietly through the window of the embroidery room.”
“I left a message with her maid, Xiaofeng, and went back.”
“You looked at her from a distance? How far away were you?” Lin Shuang suddenly asked.
Wang Jian froze. “Fellow Daoist Lin, what are you implying?”
“We were betrothed, yes, but we always observed propriety. She was asleep—I couldn’t just stare at her.” His face reddened slightly.
“So you never actually saw her awake,” Lin Shuang said, nodding as she pointed to the letter in Meng Zi’s hands.
“That aligns with my hypothesis. This letter from April… may not be Huiniang’s.”
Wang Jian’s face changed drastically. “W-what?”
???
Huh?
As a painter-cultivator, Wang Jian’s spiritual sense should have been keener than most. It was extremely difficult to forge a letter without being caught, especially one from someone he was so intimately familiar with.
“The handwriting is identical to her earlier ones. Why do you think it’s fake?” he asked, unable to believe it.
Lin Shuang gave a strange look.
Handwriting?
“If someone’s cultivation is strong enough, an illusion technique can fool the eyes—and even spiritual senses.”
[That’s fair. These Nine-Thousand Trials are always full of beep beep beep…]
[If a major cultivator wants to deceive a low-level one, it’s too easy.]
[Then how does she know the April letter is fake?]
“But illusion techniques can only mask the surface—they cannot hide the essence beneath.”
Each letter had a clear purpose—whether it was to share a memory, leave a note, or simply express her affection. The emotions in them were natural, unforced.
But the letter dated the thirteenth of the fourth month had none of that.
It mimicked the handwriting and tone perfectly. But something was missing.
It was too careful. Too measured.
Even the embroidery motif seemed picked from a catalog rather than chosen from the heart.
Lin Shuang’s voice was soft.
“She writes honestly. From her letters, I can tell she’s not someone who hides her feelings.”
“But this last one—it’s imitating her outer habits, not her heart.”
Wang Jian was stunned.
Both Meng Zi and Huangfu Yuan stopped flipping through the letters and looked at her in confusion.
Lin Shuang’s face turned a little red.
How was she supposed to explain this?
While reading Huiniang’s handwritten letters, she had been reminded of her own cringe-worthy diaries—especially the absurd ramblings from her teenage years.
She used to write freely, gushing over handsome men, having imaginary conversations with her dantian, and “telepathic” chats with her grandma…
This clearly wasn’t the time to be thinking about her embarrassing journals. She should’ve been immersed in the somber roleplay atmosphere of this murder mystery trial.
So she forced herself back into the narrative.
But her 108 threads of divine sense had already started analyzing why the letters had triggered that memory.
June 4th…
July 3rd…
October 12th…
The date formatting in Huiniang’s letters matched the way people write in diaries.
And the floral embroidery motifs at the end of each letter—those resembled the daily weather notations in a personal journal: “clear,” “rain,” etc.
And third… the tone.
“Whenever the moon is bright and clouds are sparse… you must be thinking of me, aren’t you?”
“Wang Lang is as radiant as the moon, so talented. Aunt Zhang next door says a mere seamstress like me could never match you. Sigh.”
“Granny, things are getting weird again. Like how my dantian doesn’t want to go to work every day…”
“Granny, if it were you, what would you do?”
Lin Shuang sighed.
Too similar.
So similar that when she read Huiniang’s letters, her mind drifted, and she began worrying what would happen if her own diary were ever exposed.
“The way a person expresses themselves—tone, word choice, emotional rhythm—it tends to remain constant over time.”
She looked at Wang Jian.
“In the letters from earlier months, Huiniang never asked anything that required you to take action. They were written in a tone of sharing, of confiding—there were no direct questions or instructions.”
Maybe it was just their romantic way of communicating.
Lin Shuang didn’t quite understand it.
“But the letter from April… the tone changed.”
“Come pick me up tomorrow, would you?” — that was an actual request. One that needed Wang Jian to act upon the letter the next day.
Now that you say it like that, it’s the only letter that does so.
“Of course, this shift in tone could be me overthinking things.”
She asked Meng Zi for the letters again and selected several to compare.
Pointing to the hand-drawn motifs:
— June: [Chrysanthemum motif]
— July: [Osmanthus motif]
— March: [Water Lotus motif]
— April: [Wintersweet motif]
“What’s wrong with that?” Wang Jian frowned.
“These are just sketches. Huiniang probably drew them casually. They don’t match any proper seasonal cycle.”
“Exactly.”
Lin Shuang nodded.
“That’s precisely the problem.”
?
Shouldn’t this be a Wandering Blossom Sect question?
She glanced at the twin tiger painting behind Wang Jian.
“Huiniang felt her embroidery motifs weren’t good enough, so she’d ask for your help. That means she planned her designs ahead of time.”
Wang Jian stiffened.
Lin Shuang pointed to the letters. “Autumn chrysanthemums in June. Winter osmanthus in July. At first, it seems random. But considering Huiniang’s habits, it makes perfect sense.”
“She was always preparing her embroidery patterns one or two seasons ahead of time. The embroidery room likely started on each piece months in advance.”
“So the flowers she sketched on her letters always represented seasons to come.”
“Except for the one in April.”
The April letter carried a wintersweet branch.
Lin Shuang didn’t spell it out, but seeing Wang Jian rising anxiously to his feet, she nodded. “You realized it too, didn’t you?”
Wintersweet bloomed in late winter—around the second lunar month. By April, it would’ve long faded.
Huiniang, who planned her embroidery with precision, would never draw a wintersweet motif in April.
“So this letter was forged? Huiniang must have disappeared before the thirteenth of April? And the woman you saw through the window… wasn’t even her?” Meng Zi exclaimed.
Wang Jian staggered, nearly toppling the folding screen behind him.
Meng Zi caught him just in time.
The realization clearly broke him.
Lin Shuang laid the letter on the table. “Who delivered the April letter? Does the gatekeeper remember?”
“It was Xiaofeng—Huiniang’s maid, Xiaofeng!”
Wang Jian gripped Meng Zi’s arm, his words spilling over themselves.
“Whenever I paint, I lock myself in the studio for days.”
“If Huiniang needed me, she’d send Xiaofeng to leave a message with the gate.”
“It was her. She’s the one behind this!”
“No—I have to find her right now!”
Lin Shuang nodded and rose immediately. “Let’s go. I hope Xiaofeng’s still around.”
Halfway there, she suddenly stopped. “Uh… which one of us specializes in divine sense? Any soul-reading techniques?”
“Oh right! I nearly forgot—this round tests spiritual perception!”
Meng Zi slapped his forehead. “That Xiaofeng’s definitely going to lie!”
{Clearwater Sect’s Meng Zi and companions are the first to deduce Xiaofeng will lie — +2 points!}
[?]
[??]
[Huh? We haven’t even seen a single strand of Xiaofeng’s hair yet!]
[Zhenchuan Nine-Thousand, if you’re broken, just say so!]
Author’s Note:
Zhao Sect Master’s Personal Notes, Entry 51:
A mature examinee already has half the answer just by seeing the problem. In this trial, we haven’t even met the villain, and Senior Sister is already solving the case? Too fast, too fast! Help—
— Wandering Blossom Sect: …
— Mountain and Sea Sect: …
— Ten Thousand Monks Sect: …
— Zhou Xuanwu: … It’s truly a blessing that Wandering Blossom Sect didn’t assign Junior Sister Zhao as the trial commentator.
— Zhao Keran: …
See you tomorrow~
Juju’s Note:
In this chapter (and the ones to come), you’ll notice two special formatting marks that I chose to keep from the original. They help preserve the tone and charm of the story, so I wanted to keep the reading experience as close as possible to how it feels in the source:
[]marks live audience commentary during the trial projections — basically the cultivation world’s version of a chaotic livestream chat: playful, dramatic, and full of opinions.- {
}indicates official system messages from the Nine Thousand Layers trial — things like score updates, rules, or announcements from the organizers.
I hope this little formatting choice helps you feel more immersed in the story. Let me know if it enhanced your experience or felt confusing — I’m always open to feedback!