He let the roars wash over him like waves crashing against an unyielding cliff.
Then he spoke again—
With that same smirk dancing at the corner of his lips.
“Don’t act like you’re all saints.”
His words cut through the outrage like a blade.
“Everyone standing here—every sect elder, every clan heir, every so-called righteous cultivator—has done things they’d rather not admit.”
He swept his gaze across the gathered forces, unflinching even in the face of rising hostility.
“And you know it. In the path of cultivation… the weak die, and the strong climb over corpses to reach the top. Don’t you dare preach to me about morality when your hands are soaked in blood!”
The crowd quieted for a breath.
Some were caught off guard.
Some flinched—perhaps remembering their own sins.
But just as quickly, the backlash surged like a tidal wave.
“Shameless!”
“That’s no justification for what you did!”
“Don’t you dare compare your selfishness to our sacrifices!”
“There’s a line—and you crossed it!”
“We’ve all struggled on the path—but stripping your own cousin of a Dao Bone? That’s not ambition. That’s cruelty!”
“Evil cultivators speak the same way you do. You think being honest makes it less vile?”
“You think you’re bold? You’re just a disgrace with no shame!”
Curses flew.
Accusations mounted.
And this time—many of them weren’t directed at the Bai Clan as a whole.
They were aimed solely at Bai Zihan.
“He should be stripped of his status and cultivation!”
“Kill him and return the Dao Bone to its rightful owner!”
Even some neutral onlookers who had once admired his sharp tongue now scowled at him with contempt.
The narrative had shifted.
Before, he was the underdog genius trying to rise despite opposition.
Now?
He was the villain in a tale people wanted to hate.
And yet—
Bai Zihan didn’t flinch.
Didn’t back down.
He met every glare with that same cold, arrogant expression.
“Call me what you want,” he said calmly.
“But don’t lie to yourselves pretending you’re any better.”
His words earned him more fury, more venom—but it didn’t matter.
Because Li Jianhong was grinning.
And Zhao Wutian, arms folded, simply nodded in satisfaction.
The crowd was already tearing into him.
His confession had done more damage than a thousand blades ever could.
Zhao Wutian, who had been silent until now, finally uncrossed his arms.
His voice rang out—not loud, not aggressive—but with the calm, practiced weight of someone who knew how to manipulate hearts.
“Such a bold confession…”
He smiled, thin and composed.
“And yet, I must admit—I admire your honesty, Bai Zihan. Truly!”
His gaze swept across the outraged crowd, letting the silence stretch just long enough.
Then his voice turned colder. Sharper. Each word like a knife carved from righteousness.
“But honesty does not excuse atrocity.”
He turned back toward Bai Zihan and the Bai Clan.
“Stealing a Dao Bone from one’s own blood… a crime that even the most depraved demonic sects would hesitate to commit.”
“And to then stand here, shamelessly admitting it—as if wearing sin like armor makes you invincible?”
He let out a quiet breath, full of mock disappointment.
“How far the Bai Clan has fallen…”
That line hit hard.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd again.
Even a few sect elders who had remained neutral now furrowed their brows.
Zhao Wutian’s voice softened—more insidious.
“If someone like him can represent the Bai Clan… what does that say about their values? Their entire Clan who knew the truth but kept their silence?”
Then he turned to the surrounding sects and clans, addressing them directly.
“My friends, are we to stand idle and pretend this is acceptable? To let a precedent be set—that personal ambition justifies mutilating your kin?”
“Today it’s the Bai Clan. Tomorrow… whose child will be next?”
That question echoed like thunder.
It struck a nerve.
A few sect elders exchanged glances. Several disciples clenched their fists.
Parents. Mentors. Rivals. All began imagining their own future being stolen—by someone just like Bai Zihan.
Zhao Wutian didn’t press further.
He didn’t have to.
He just smiled and stepped back, letting the fire burn on its own.
Because now, the idea had taken root.
Bai Zihan wasn’t just a villain.
He was a threat.
A symbol of what could happen if power went unchecked.
And that, more than anything, was the most dangerous kind of enemy.
The crowd’s mood turned darker by the breath.
What began as a confrontation over inheritance… had morphed into a public trial.
Bai Zihan stood alone at the center of the storm—not cloaked in glory, but in infamy.
Curses echoed from every direction.
“He doesn’t deserve that Dao Bone!”
“Return it to Bai Xinyue! It was hers!”
“Strip it from him! Let justice be done!”
“Let her take it back with her own hands!”
…
Bai Tianheng’s expression was grim, lips drawn tight.
Things had turned into what he feared the most.
The world no longer asked for explanation.
It demanded punishment.
And through it all—
Bai Xinyue said nothing.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t even move.
Getting her Dao Bone back had once been a goal—back when she first entered the Heaven Sword Sect.
But not anymore!
She didn’t need help then—and certainly not now.
Besides, she had long accepted the Immortal Emperor’s Inheritance as a twisted form of repayment.
No—she hadn’t forgiven him.
But she no longer wanted the Dao Bone.
And yet… the world screamed for her to take it.
And Bai Zihan—
Still standing tall at the center of it all—slowly exhaled.
He looked around him.
At their faces.
At their hate.
Then finally at Bai Xinyue.
Still silent.
Still unreadable.
And he laughed softly.
“You all want the same thing, don’t you?”
He said, voice low.
His gaze swept over the warships.
Over the skies full of spectators, enemies, and would-be executioners.
“Fine! Then let me show you hypocrites the difference between me and you. I admit my sins, and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make things right.”
He took a single step forward.
Then another.
Each one heavy.
Until he stood at the center of the Bai Clan’s main courtyard—his figure framed by the blood-soaked sky.
He looked to the heavens.
Then shoved his hand directly into his own chest.
Gasps broke out instantly.
Blood sprayed.
Spiritual Qi rippled violently.
His robes tore.
And still—he pushed deeper.
No scream.
No hesitation.
Until—
He tore it out.
The Dao Bone!