NOVEL NEXT Chapter 39 | The Hearing
The Sealed Chamber of Shanghai had not stirred for centuries—its sanctified air untouched by mortal breath, foundations layered with wards older than the city skyline itself.
This was no normal courtroom. This was the jade-veiled center of divine jurisdiction, where even a sigh might echo through history.
Beneath that dreamlike canopy stood the Nine. Or rather—Eight plus One.
Taeril White, former absentee, current defendant, and eternal nuisance to the divine establishment, stood in the center as though he owned the very jade beneath their feet.
The accusations lingered in the chamber like smoke:
"Neglect."
"Absence."
"Obfuscation."
Qiongqi's voice had just tapered off from a snarled demand to "burn down his seat."
The silence that followed was expectant, predatory.
Then, with unhurried grace, Taeril raised one hand—and from his bell sleeve unfurled a stack of sealed parchments, each stamped in Council-grade golden ink. They rose, gliding above his head like spirit cranes, pulsing once as Lotus Script ignited across their surfaces.
A hush settled through the Chamber.
The Jade Deity's Avatar pulsed twice. The gesture was like a breath, drawing heaps of documents into orbit around it, swirling in a spiral of energy. As they aligned, each paper was projected into holographic display threads that hovered before every Council seat.
"As many here know," Taeril began, "Area 001's equilibrium hovered precariously around 55% ten mortal days ago, teetering near the auto-audit threshold."
Projected displays flickered around him—clips of rift closures, node stabilizations, containment rituals. Data streamed visibly, equilibrium graphs climbing from precarious lows until the final value hovered green at a stable 75%.
"Yet many things can change in ten days. Since then, equilibrium has been restored and stabilized in the seventies," he continued, deliberately paced. "I appreciate everyone's concerns, and I am glad to deliver the news that rift incidents have been neutralized, with all interventions logged and compliant."
As if responding to his words, the Avatar pulsed three times, verifiying the submitted graphs and statistics.
"All documents authenticated."
"Current equilibrium of Area 001: 75.2%"
"Overall status—stable."
75%.
It was a percentile now considered comfortably above the crisis threshold, even within the top quartile among Area evaluations.
Without pause, the White Tiger continued his methodical barrage.
"All major rift protocols were filed under Protocol 31-F, activated only under divine interference Class-A and above. Full Council authorisation… on record, which means that Area 001's instability was known by the Council and managed under divine-legal procedures."
At this, murmurs rippled through the Chamber, a subtle fracture in the Council's unified front. Great Peng's yawn fell mid-motion, replaced by a sheepish cough.
Taeril continued, more documents flaring into view.
"Redacted Audit Logs."
Faint watermarks flashed in RealmNet blue: the Cipher Venerable's insignia—half-key, half-smile.
"Directive Forty-Two-Five-Eleven."
A murmur passed through the room at the directive alone. Taeril paid no attention to the reactions, only letting the implications ferment.
"Emergency clause buried in post-rift reform. Grants off-grid operational autonomy in sectors facing ethereal war-grade threats. I suppose the S-Class Taowu avatar would fall nicely under this."
The list went on.
"Emergency Node Shielding Agreement. Ratified post-Wartime Rift Era. Three redlining nodes, voted unanimously by this very Council.
"Ledger compliance reports. All rift closures logged and timestamped. I invite you to verify. And below them, their corresponding reports. Seals authenticated. High-frequency stabilization included.
"And finally, civilian satisfaction surveys," he added dryly, as a thousand tiny SpiritTube screens bloomed around the chamber. Discussion threads spilled into the air above the Jade Deity's interface, and the netizen comment scrolls blinked into view:
[@niceguy999]: Mom! I'm live on stream!
[@myroomwasonfire]: shoutout to Area 001 achieving equilibrium higher than my GPA.
[@chasingtail94]: WT dodged the Council like it was a group project but still carried
A beat.
"And the absences?" Ao Bing interjected, frost-edged irritation cutting the silence, "A friendly reminder to all here, that Commander Bai Hu's attendance records show almost three hundred missed Council meetings."
"Two hundred and forty-seven," Wen corrected quietly.
The White Tiger fluttered his eyes.
"True. Though Commander Li has provided meticulous documentation of all Council proceedings." He shrugged, casually throwing the man under the bus. "Given the state of our audit files, I suspect I am better informed than some here present."
A long moment of silence passed, then Li Wei inclined his head ever-so-slightly, a reluctant confirmation that drew an unreadable look from Erlang Shen.
"You were aware of ongoing sabotage but chose silence?" Erlang Shen said.
"Aware, yes. Silent, no." Taeril's gaze didn't shift. "My documentation was filed under a higher clearance—necessary protocol given internal interference."
He paused, gaze travelling slowly from one Council member to the next.
"My absence," he said, each word slow and precise, "was not negligence. It was containment. Strategic insulation. The result of data your seats never bothered decrypting."
He paused, then raised his gaze, white hair catching light like wire-thin frost. Behind him, the floating lotuses paused for half a heartbeat.
The White Tiger smiled faintly—too cold to be smug, too sharp to be humble.
"And the next ten files? They detail internal sabotage. None of which originated in Area 001."
The Chamber shifted.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Lady Foxfire leaned forward from Seat 008. The edge of her fan trembled with withheld laughter. Lady Meng shook her head silently, pouring herself another tea from Seat 004.
Erlang Shen's brow twitched, skepticism replaced by interest. He tapped his knuckles on his armrest twice, thinking. Beside him, Ao Bing's grip visibly tightened around his sleeve.
Wen, in Seat 009, arms crossed and lips drawn thin, said nothing—but his silence did more damage than Qiongqi's shouting.
Speaking of which—
The demon on Seat 005 snarled, tail twitching beneath the Council seat. "You think you can distract us with buried files and this long-winded poetry dump?"
"Distract?" Taeril echoed. "No, no. I came here to clarify."
There was a snap as the Cloud-Jade Ledger's main display flickered. Then, with a sound like a law being ratified in real time, it whispered:
"All documents authenticated. Cross-reference complete."
Li Wei, Seat 003, leaned back ever so slightly. One shoulder rose, then fell. It was the spiritual equivalent of a slow clap. He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he exhaled—not out of annoyance, not surprise. Just quiet resignation.
Of course, the White Tiger had come armed with bureaucratic cannons.
Of course, he had no problem dragging down the rest of the Chamber if it meant cutting his way free.
The strategy was as clear as it was ruthless: if neutrality was the key to survival, then the neutral faction would tilt toward whichever side threatened them less. Taeril had brought fire, not to burn them—but to warn the self-preserving.
The avatars of lesser gods and mortal watchers flickered to life across the mirrored surfaces. Their reflections stared down like jury gods in half-formed thought, quiet as the storm's breath.
And all the while, the SpiritTube commentary was melting.
[@eggbit3r]: so… he just dropped 42-five-eleven on live air?
[@s0larcore]: Cipher watermark? I'm switching allegiances.
[@WTFanclubOfficial]: WHO GAVE HIM THE DRAMATIC ENTRANCE MUSIC
[@bambooblade4u]: drop the full dataset king
The final document faded into the lotus script overhead, its golden seal folding into silence.
But Taeril wasn't finished. He lowered his hand. Then, in the same unhurried tone one might use to order tea or deliver a death sentence—
"In return, I request to audit Seat 005 and Seat 006 for fiscal and spiritual sabotage."
For a moment, the Chamber held its breath.
And then it shifted.
Chairs creaked and sleeves fluttered. A ripple ran through the celestial lattice that lined the room like a tremor in the divine crust. Even the petals overhead hesitated mid-air, caught between gravity and scandal.
Qiongqi snarled low. Ao Bing's eyes narrowed—not shocked, but calculating.
Lady Foxfire actually put down her fan, but it was Lady Meng, seated across from her, who spoke first—if only with a lifted brow. "Oh?"
A beat passed. Then, from the gallery bench behind Taeril, a silhouette rose like moonlight drawn into human form.
Meng Yao stepped forward.
She wore the standard Deputy Director silver braid—coiled tight, no ornament, just function. In her hands, she held a scroll etched in obsidian vinework. Divine-grade binding script pulsed along the edges like veins of living ink.
She didn't look at the crowd, only at the Jade Avatar.
"Submitted for Council review, Your Greatness," she said, voice crisp. "Intercepted reports indicating material diversion and relay reroute, traced to proxy servers nested under the jurisdiction of Seat 006's spiritual web. Also attached: fiscal disbursement logs showing unaccounted spirit currency rerouted mid-transit during Area 001 budget refresh cycles. The destination fell under Area 006's jurisdiction."
Her fingers unrolled the scroll. Glyphs blossomed into midair—timestamped, cross-referenced, cross-realm verification sigils stamped thrice.
"Verified by three independent auditors from the Earthly Court Branch," she said. "Notarized and filed within the regulation window."
A wave of murmurs broke out across the upper tier of Council seats. Even the Jade Avatar tilted slightly, attention focused now.
But Taeril hadn't moved.
"A motion of negligence," he said softly, "requires fifteen or more unresolved operational incidents at the time of summons."
He raised a hand, lowering his thumb and pinky.
"Area 001 now stands at precisely three—all minor, and all filed post-neutralization of rift tears."
A breeze moved through the Chamber—but it was not wind.
The Cloud-Jade Ledger pulsed once. And then, without ceremony, it devoured Ao Bing's complaint scroll. The paper crumpled midair and disintegrated into stardust, the script disassembling with a tired sigh.
A new glyph shimmered across the center of the Council floor:
[FRIVOLOUS FILING DETECTED]
Seat 005 has been fined 50,000 Spirit Stones
Seat 006 has been fined 130,000 Spirit Stones
Ao Bing's face twitched. Beside him, Qiongqi growled, claws scraping against stone. The demon sprung from his seat, incredulous.
"Preposterous!" Qiongqi snarled. "Why did I get fined? It was Ao Bing who—"
The Sea Dragon shot him a glare, and the demon seethed back.
"Because—deliberate obstruction," Taeril replied coolly. "Specifically, in proposing the funding freeze initiative, alongside Seat 006. Your hostility toward my Area has been evident for centuries. Petty vengeance now affecting Area 001's operational effectiveness and Mortal Realm's stability."
"Records indicate," Meng Yao added evenly, "Seat 005 actively proposed and seconded Area 001's emergency funding freeze, despite documented critical need. Verified independently by Earthly Court financial branch."
Li Wei, ever the quiet observer, offered a slow nod; not toward the motion, but toward the fact that the White Tiger had somehow reversed bureaucratic latency.
In the firewall shadows above, the Cipher Venerable's icon flickered into view.
▂▂⌇
A single emoji. Smoke. Or maybe laughter.
"Did he just audit the audit?" Great Peng leaned toward Lady Foxfire in a whisper.
"Darling," she said, sipping from her gourd. "He hasn't even played his final card."
The Jade Deity Avatar pulsed, a bell-tone ripple echoing from the center of the Chamber.
"Review session entered. Statements to be deliberated. Recess until next Hearing cycle."
The petals above resumed their fall. The Sealed Chamber dimmed.
And in the center of it all, the White Tiger's untouched cup of tea remained—still steaming.
***
VILLA T-17. AREA 001.
Somewhere between the 19th meme edit and the 42nd slow-motion clip of Taeril catching a floating scroll like he was fielding fan mail, Eathan exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
The SpiritTube panel hovered a few feet above the bamboo floor of the villa's moon lounge, casting light across his crossed legs and the loose hoodie he hadn't taken off since breakfast. The koi outside the window glowed faintly, drifting through folded dimensions like sentient fortune cookies.
"That," Eathan muttered, wiping a cold sweat from his brow, "was terrifying."
He'd expected a Council Hearing.
He hadn't expected Council PvP, executive-level Uno reverses, and the Cloud-Jade Ledger itself snacking on falsified complaints like they were movie popcorns.
Still, what unsettled him wasn't the Ledger.
It was Taeril White.
The man had walked into a divine courtroom, casually dropped seven files that were probably sealed beneath spiritual nuclear codes, and then countersued two Council members like he was adjusting a calendar invite.
As expected, RealmNet was brimming with netizen traction. Memes on FeatherScroll were already multiplying. Trending was a fan-edit of Taeril stepping through falling lotuses to the tune of "Imperial March (Silkcore Remix)."
Eathan scrolled numbly through the live comments.
[@crimson_nightmare]: Did anyone else notice the way Bai Hu never touched his tea? Rumours that courtroom food was horrendous must be true.
[@koi_thoughts]: Bro just sued his coworkers and walked off in loafers.
[@emergency_buns]: Where does he get his jade pins? Asking for my wife.
He kept scrolling.
[@rentfree_rituals]: Who even keeps War-Era Protocol 42511 in their sleeve?
[@sigh_of_the_tiger]: Commander White. You may have ghosted the Council. But now you haunt me.
Eathan closed the chat with shaking fingers.
He didn't want to admit it—but somewhere between that stack of golden seals and the phrase "fiscal sabotage," he'd felt something.
A flutter.
Not admiration, exactly. Not fear, either.
It was that unique emotional flavour reserved for when your part-time corner shop boss turned out to be a war strategist with divine clearance and enough political artillery to counter-raid his enemies.
"Hey."
Eathan flinched.
Luke was behind him now, hands in his pockets, eyebrows arched in mild confusion. "Whatcha watching?"
"Nothing!" he panicked.
The panel flipped mid-sentence, condensing back onto the holopad, which fell neatly onto his lap. On the screen was an extremely generic farming sim. A pixelated avatar began watering tiny bean plots with suspicious enthusiasm.
"I'm grinding for event currency," he said, voice an octave too high. "Gotta get the premium...soil shovel. Very rare. Limited time."
Luke stared at the beans. They swayed in perfect sync, radiating the exact opposite of urgency.
"Right." He nodded slowly. "Tablet boy, get your shoes."
"What?"
"You've been sitting too long. Come on."
Behind Luke, the rest of the mortal brigade plus Chewie were assembling like a surprisingly aesthetic sitcom lineup.
Chewie was tying her orange platform sneakers, lollipop in mouth. Emily was brushing lint from her sleeve with surgical precision, somehow already dressed for outdoors. Sera was adjusting her camera strap, one boot planted against the sill like she was about to ascend a mountainside or stage a photoshoot—or both.
Luke grinned down at Eathan like a kid inviting his friend to skip school.
"It's spring break," he said. "Time to explore."
Eathan glanced once more at the SpiritTube tab now minimized behind the fake farm UI. Then at the door. Then at his friends.
He sighed, pulled onto his feet. "Only if we don't run into any sentient rifts."
Luke blinked. "What?"
"Nothing."
And with that, he shoved the holopad into his satchel, mentally locked the Council Hearing tab behind five layers of spiritual VPN, and followed the group into the folded afternoon.