Chapter Eighty-Three: The Lotus Mark

"Really?" When she turned her head back, the look of worry on Qiu Wan’er’s face had not lessened in the slightest. Her eyes held a hint of yearning as she gazed at the old man before her. Though her words were brief, their meaning was self-evident. In truth, what she most longed for in this moment was comfort. For reasons she could not name, Zhora Wuyang suddenly felt a wave of unease. At his age, he ought to have been able to take anything in stride, yet at this moment he felt inexplicably nervous. He did not have a ready answer for her question, and so his gaze shifted slightly, as if by not meeting her eyes he could somehow evade the matter. After a slight pause, he finally replied, "Since he is your senior disciple, your master would not harm him. Isn’t there a saying in the Central Plains? Even a tiger would not eat its cubs. Your master will certainly ensure your senior brother’s safety."

This answer was just what Qiu Wan’er needed. The anxious energy that had been driving her forward instantly dissipated, and she simply stared at the table before her, murmuring softly, "Yes, my senior brother has been with Master since he was a child. Their relationship is like that of father and son. Master would never distrust him. Besides, my senior brother grew up in the Qilian Mountains; how could he possibly be involved with the Blue Lotus Demon Sect? This must be a misunderstanding, nothing more. Look at me, getting anxious over nothing."

At first, her words were scarcely above a whisper, as if she were reassuring herself. But as she spoke, emotion overtook her, slipping beyond her control, and a glimmer of tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes. Such was the way of a daughter’s heart. Yet even as her tears gathered, she fought to contain them, refusing to let them fall, the droplets trembling in her eyes. Witnessing this, Zhora Wuyang truly found himself at a loss. He wished to offer some words of comfort, even if only a token phrase, but when he opened his mouth, not a word came forth. Confronted by her pitiful expression, he felt his own heart grow heavy, and he could not help but sigh softly.

"Tan Yi could never be such a person. As his master, I believe in him." No one knew how long the silence lasted. Perhaps this scene was just as difficult for Dao Tianfeng to bear, for his thoughts were in turmoil. As a master, it was only natural to trust one’s disciple—there should be no need for hesitation. Yet he found himself hesitating, and even the tone of his voice lacked conviction. He understood that if it were just Gusha making wild accusations, it would be of little consequence. But if even Xiao Jinghao did not object, then the matter became far more complicated. So, in that moment, he instinctively chose the stance most favorable to himself. Though his heart was in turmoil, for Han Tan Yi, those words were more than enough. The look of pleading in Tan Yi’s eyes transformed at once into joy, and inwardly he whispered, "Thank you, Master!"

"Brother Dao, since you choose to trust your disciple, there is nothing more to be said. However, as a friend, I, Shen Wansan, must remind you: people’s hearts are hidden deep, and one must always remain vigilant. You are now the leader of the martial world; your words and actions carry weight, and you must not give the world cause for laughter. Of course, I do not believe Tan Yi would stoop to consorting with the Demon Sect, but nothing in life is absolute. If he proves to be guilty after all, what then?"

Such words, steeped in hypocrisy, were delivered with the clear intention of forcing Dao Tianfeng into a corner. Indeed, for a man like Tianji Daoist, reputation was everything—other things could be cast aside, but not his good name. Shen Wansan’s remarks struck precisely at his soft spot, and without thinking, Dao Tianfeng replied directly, "If he truly proves unworthy, there’s no need for you to trouble yourself, Brother Shen. I, Dao Tianfeng, will deal with my own disciple without mercy!"

This response was exactly what Shen Wansan wanted to hear. Regardless of whether Gusha’s accusation was true, she would surely have her reasoning. For Tianji Daoist, no matter how he responded, it would be advantageous for Shen Wansan. The Qilian Sect’s disgrace was certain. If Dao Tianfeng truly punished his disciple, he would be branded as the master who killed his own—hardly a reputation to relish. Of course, how such a deed was portrayed would be key: was it righteousness above kinship, or sacrificing the bond of master and disciple for the sake of power? The Qilian Sect had few disciples, and compared to the resources of Mingyue Manor, could hardly compete in shaping public opinion. If Gusha’s words proved groundless, then even if Dao Tianfeng retained his position as the martial alliance leader, a rift would remain between him and his disciple, as well as with the Prince of Qi—making it all the easier for Shen Wansan to maneuver for power in the future.

"Gusha, what evidence do you have to prove that Young Master Han has connections with the Demon Sect? Speak plainly. If I find there is any falsehood in your words, I will not be lenient with you!" At this point, since Dao Tianfeng had already stated his position, Xiao Jinghao could not simply remain silent. Though his words were couched in officialese, his tone was harsh. As a man of the court, he understood the subtleties of officialdom. For those who aspired to great things, forming alliances was essential. He knew better than anyone that nothing in life was certain. Thus, scolding one's own side was the best course: it not only deflected suspicion that he was pulling strings, but also created an appearance of impartiality and a sincere search for truth. It was, in short, killing two birds with one stone.

"My lord, gentlemen, I, Gusha, am but a minor figure—how would I dare to speak recklessly or slander others without cause? This matter is of great importance, and I dare not be careless. If I have been remiss in any way, I beg your forgiveness," Gusha replied, her tone noticeably more restrained, perhaps due to Xiao Jinghao’s presence. Yet she did not falter; events had reached such a point that there could be no turning back, no matter how daunting the path. "It is well known that the Blue Lotus Demon Sect is cautious and seldom contacts outsiders. Sixteen years ago, at the battle where Water Lotus perished from grave wounds, the Demon Sect vanished, and for sixteen years, there was not a whisper of them. The world assumed the sect was annihilated, but in truth they merely went into hiding, becoming even more circumspect. According to reports from spies my Prince of Qi’s household has placed within the Demon Sect, their hideout is extremely well concealed, and outsiders cannot find a trace. There is even a mysterious barrier at the entrance, which only Demon Sect disciples can pass. Most tellingly, every disciple bears a lotus mark on their body. Young Master Han, do you, perhaps, have such a mark?"

Her voice rose on this last sentence; here lay the heart of the matter. Gusha’s gaze locked onto Han Tan Yi, whose face blanched instantly. His mind flashed back to that day: the room, the bed, and on his thigh, the lotus mark—clear and undeniable. Even now, he did not understand how it came to be, but it could only spell trouble. A lotus, the Demon Sect—there was no room for argument. The thought sent a violent shudder through him, and he unconsciously let go of Tianji Daoist’s sleeve, standing there dumbstruck, unable to utter a word.

Perhaps it was eagerness to prove her case, or perhaps she saw Han Tan Yi’s defenseless state, but Gusha moved with lightning speed, darting toward his leg. Before he could react, she tugged up his trouser leg. Though it was not pulled all the way, the lotus mark at the base was plain for all to see—irrefutable evidence. In that instant, everyone present was stunned, a ripple of gasps spreading through the hall. Perhaps it was this sound that snapped Han Tan Yi back to his senses. Desperate, he clung once more to Dao Tianfeng’s sleeve, his plea full of anguish: "Master, I have not joined the Demon Sect, nor have I betrayed Qilian. You must believe me, please, believe me!"

Believe or not, Dao Tianfeng truly did not know how to decide. He wished to believe, yet how could he explain what had just transpired before their eyes? In the end, he could only close his eyes and sigh, falling silent—perhaps silence was his only recourse as he searched for an answer. This was precisely the scene Shen Wansan had hoped for. The corners of his mouth curled upward in satisfaction, though he kept his glee concealed. Even if it showed, he took care not to leave evidence in his words. He even sighed, feigning regret: "Nephew, why must it come to this? I, too, believed you could never commit such an outrageous act. As the senior disciple of Qilian, most likely to inherit the sect, with all its honor and prestige, why would you forsake such a future for the Demon Sect? It is truly disheartening. Nephew, has someone framed you? If you have been wronged, speak up—if your master will not defend you, I, Shen Wansan, will see justice done, even if it means meddling in others’ affairs!"