Chapter 376: Even If the Path Ahead Is... The Hell Where Ideals Burn

Qin Zhixia could feel the cold from the Giant Saw Blade above her head seeping down inch by inch. The blade's arc reflected on the black marble floor tiles, turning cold to a bluish hue.

Yan Ming sits on the bench, his ten fingers interlaced, the blue of his pupils reflecting the slowly swinging arc of the Balance.

He is waiting.

Waiting for a trapped beast's final roar, waiting for a human driven to a dead end to reveal the ugliest survival instinct before death.

He has seen too many.

Presiding Judge Zhao knelt on the ground, kowtowing until his forehead split; Zhou Desheng wept while pointing out accomplices only to beg for reduced sentences; Qian Jingzhi rattled off the account numbers from his pocket one after another.

In the face of fear, no one can keep dignity.

This is the empirical conclusion he reached after judging many people.

Seventy‑six seconds.

Qin Zhixia moved.

It was not a struggle, not resistance. She simply lifted her drooping head.

The motion was slow. Tendons on her neck tightened into clear lines, beads of sweat slid down her cheekbones, dripping onto the iron binding ring with a faint sound.

Yan Ming's brow twitched.

It wasn't the gaze he had expected.

No fear, no pleading, no hysterics of clutching a last straw before death.

Those Crimson Phoenix Eyes were excessively clean.

Like a winter morning's thin‑iced lake surface, beneath it an unfathomable depth.

"I don't intend to appeal."

Qin Zhixia's voice was hoarse, her throat tasting of rusted blood, yet each syllable was crystal clear.

Yan Ming's fingers stopped.

The interlaced ten fingers opened a gap, then closed again. It was his first unnecessary movement during a trial.

"Defendant, this court reminds you—"

"I heard." Qin Zhixia cut him off, her tone even a half‑step lower.

Her gaze passed over the Balance, over the Giant Saw Blade, and settled steadily on Yan Ming's marble‑pale face.

"Cui Yong'an, I killed him."

The "Guilty" pan on the left side of the Balance plunged two inches; the Giant Saw Blade dropped half a foot.

Yan Ming's blue pupils narrowed slightly.

"He fed the Seed but hasn't fully transformed yet, right. Sixty‑seven percent, you state it clearer than I do. As for the remaining thirty‑three percent 'people', I truly have no intention of keeping them."

"I also have no intention of saving him."

The Balance sank another three points.

The Giant Saw Blade was less than a meter above her head. The reflected light on the blade could already illuminate each strand of her fragmented hair on her forehead.

Yan Ming stood up.

It wasn't a slow, every‑detail‑clear rise. It was an unconscious, instinctive motion.

Because he hadn't anticipated this turn.

Qin Zhixia offered no defense.

She didn't say "it was the only choice," nor "there's no second way on the battlefield," nor did she find any rational excuse for herself.

She only admitted.

"Cui Yong'an was a human. I killed a person. I accept that charge."

The Giant Saw Blade hovered above her head. The blade's reflected blue light fell on Qin Zhixia's face, splitting her silhouette into light and shadow halves.

"But I don't regret it."

Her voice suddenly changed.

It wasn't louder nor higher. Something inside was ignited.

Not fire, but something quieter than fire.

"This world is rotten to the core."

Qin Zhixia stared into Yan Ming's eyes, word by word.

"To cleanse this diseased world, to protect more people."

"I am willing to bear all sins and bloodstains, and to pay any price to fulfill my ideals."

"Even if the path ahead, where my ideals burn, is hell."

"I also uphold my original resolve, a moth flying into fire, unbending."

The Balance shook violently.

The left "Guilty" pan and the right "Not Guilty" pan swung back and forth like mad, the gilded crossbeam emitted a sharp metallic stress sound, and the entire dome resonated with it.

Yan Ming's pupils surged with blue light.

He saw a scene he had never witnessed in his judging career.

The Balance trembled.

It was not tilting, not resetting.

It was the Rules themselves, hesitating.

It seemed to be its first encounter with a heart so clear as a polished mirror.

Time was running out.

Qin Zhixia closed her eyes.

It's not acceptance of fate. She has said everything she needed to say.

Three seconds.

Two seconds.

One second.

Zero.

The Balance halted abruptly.

The crossbeam settled at an extremely subtle angle. The "guilty" side remained heavier. Yet the deviation was far smaller than when it had been struck directly before.

The Giant Saw Blade moved.

There was no warning.

A blade as wide as half a wall fell from the dome, its whooshing tearing the silence of the sealed space, and the cold flash engulfed Qin Zhixia's entire field of view.

Xiao Zhang's pupils in the shadows contracted sharply.

His mouth opened. He didn't have time to utter a syllable.

The Giant Saw Blade descended.

But the blade's edge veered just before contacting Qin Zhixia's cervical vertebra.

The blade grazed her left shoulder, slipped beneath the clavicle, and severed the entire left arm together with the scapula at the root.

The severed limb struck the black marble floor tile.

Fresh blood gushed from the cut surface, splashing the tiles on the left side of the defendant's bench deep red. Arterial blood shone far brighter than venous blood, and under the lights it even carried a Weird bright sheen.

Qin Zhixia's body convulsed violently once.

Only once.

Then she bit her lower lip, tearing the flesh, drawing blood that dripped from her chin, and the masseter on her jawbone bulged visibly.

She made no shout.

Not a single word.

Yan Ming stood on the tribunal platform, his blue pupils slowly constricting from full dilation.

He watched Qin Zhixia bleed, watching the severed arm lie alone on the tile, its fingers still half‑clenched, the knuckles still stained with the dark‑brown scab from the earlier battle.

For the first time after a trial, he did not speak immediately.

Because the answer the Balance gave exceeded his expectations.

Guilty.

The price has been paid.

But—

Release.

His "Absolute Court" ruled that Qin Zhixia must pay the price, yet it also sanctioned her continuing onward.

The Balance he had taken pride in, never erring, absolutely just, granted her release before this woman.

It recognized her resolve to uphold her original purpose even at the cost of death.

The Giant Saw Blade slowly rose back to the dome. The Balance vanished.

The black marble wall began to crack, crumbling into ash, revealing the mottled ruin of concrete beneath.

The Absolute Court, dissolved.

Qin Zhixia knelt on one knee, her right hand gripping the cut end of her left shoulder. Blood seeped through her fingers, flowing so fast she could not control it.

Xiao Zhang's eyes, hidden in the shadows, trembled dramatically; the theatrical expression turned into disbelief and emotion.

Yan Ming stepped down from the tribunal platform as it gradually faded.

Each step was planted firmly.

In his pale‑blue pupils there was no anger, no frustration. Only something deeper, colder.

Confusion.

He had never been confused. Years of legal career, countless courtroom clashes, multiple Absolute Court trials. Never.

"Your court has recognized me," Qin Zhixia lifted her head, her throat filled with frothy blood, yet the light in her Crimson Phoenix Eyes did not fade.

Yan Ming gave no reply.

He raised his right hand. The Gavel, its bone‑white handle, spun half a turn between his fingers, the scarlet head aimed at Qin Zhixia's Heavenly Spirit Cover.

"That's right, but the court's judgment is over."

His voice finally carried a hint of something only humans possess. Not warmth, but an edge.

"Next comes the decision of stance."

The Gavel was lifted overhead.

In the shadows.

Xiao Zhang's whole body tensed, and he shifted his foot forward half a step.

At this hair‑breadth moment.

The dome exploded.

It wasn't a crack or a collapse. Something from outside punched a three‑meter‑diameter hole straight through. Debris and dust were thrust outward by an invisible force, forming a perfect circular shockwave.

Silver‑blue lightning poured down from the sky.

It wasn't a flash of lightning. Lightning is fleeting. This light was continuous, bright, humming with high‑frequency vibration that ionized the oxygen molecules in the air.

Then came time.

Time slowed.

It wasn't a sensory illusion. It was a physical deceleration.

The falling rocks' trajectory turned into slow‑motion replay, dust particles hung motionless in mid‑air, and Yan Ming's swung Gavel halted seven centimeters above Qin Zhixia's head.

A person fell down from the light.

Black Combat Suit, a gaunt figure, no extra gear at the waist. In his hand he clenched a buzzing electric blade, the blue arc on the blade lighting his face in flickering flashes.

Su Ming's right leg, in the brief slowdown of time, executed a textbook‑level spinning kick.

The tip of his shoe drove precisely into Yan Ming's right‑side rib.

At the moment time returned to normal, all kinetic energy was released.

Yan Ming's body flew sideways, smashing two remaining Reinforced Steel Bars; when his back hit the wall, the sound of concrete cracking could be heard from three floors away.

The Gavel slipped from his hand.

It bounced twice on the floor, clattering to Qin Zhixia's knee.

Su Ming hit the ground.

There was no heroic, stylish landing—just a plain two‑footed touchdown, knees slightly bent to absorb the impact, the electric blade held horizontally before him, standing between Qin Zhixia and Yan Ming.

He didn't even turn to glance at Qin Zhixia.

"Signal received."

Su Ming's tone was as matter‑of‑fact as a report on today's cafeteria menu.

"Sorry, I'm late."

Qin Zhixia knelt in a pool of blood, her consciousness blurred by pain and blood loss. Yet hearing those words, her still‑functional right hand tightened involuntarily.

In fact.

Before Qin Zhixia and Xiao Zhang went to meet alone, she had already sent a distress signal, and Su Ming was already on his way.

If Qin Zhixia could not subdue or persuade Xiao Zhang to return to the right path within the allotted time, Su Ming would intervene and, together with Qin Zhixia, kill Xiao Zhang—that was Qin Zhixia's original plan.

At the same time... that was also the contingency Wei Gong had given her from the start.

Xiao Zhang's foot drew back.

He retreated entirely into the deep shadows. His gaze swept back and forth between Su Ming and Qin Zhixia twice. In his dark‑red pupils churned a torrent of indescribable emotions, and in the end he said nothing.

"I see."

Yan Ming's voice came from behind the wall ruins.

The debris was pushed aside. A tear ran from shoulder to waist on his deep‑blue suit, its edges spilling pink Regenerative Tissue that was rapidly stitching itself together.

Yan Ming rose from the rubble.

His pale‑blue eyes stared at Su Ming for three seconds.

"We meet again."

The hum of Su Ming's electric blade rose an octave.

Yan Ming's gaze shifted to Qin Zhixia.

One arm was severed. Blood loss was at least three hundred milliliters. His face was as white as a corpse.

But—she had already ripped a tourniquet from the tactical pack at her waist, using one hand and her teeth together, applying emergency pressure bandage to the amputation site.

Her movements were so smooth they didn't seem like a first time doing this.

Su Ming didn't even look back.

His right hand flung a black metal briefcase from behind; its corner scraped the floor as it slid to Qin Zhixia's feet. The case bore the Investigation Bureau's emblem, and beside the combination lock was a handwritten note in Wei Gong's scrawl—so messy that only veteran Bureau members could decipher it.

"Wei Gong's urgent shipment," Su Ming's electric blade pointed at the healing Yan Ming, his tone light as if nudging a food order, "Can you still swing a blade, Qin Team?"

Qin Zhixia propped herself up with her only remaining right hand, swaying as she rose.

The tourniquet was cinched extremely tight; the blood flow from the cut on her left shoulder had slowed from a gush to a faint seep.

She lifted her head.

Yan Ming had walked out of the rubble whole, the Regenerative Tissue at the suit's tear having fully retracted, restoring the flawless surface.

At some point the Gavel had returned to his hand.

In Qin Zhixia's Crimson Phoenix Eyes reflected the pale face of the monster opposite.

The same pair of eyes: the left side a blood‑spattered crimson from the Giant Saw Blade wound, the right side a clear, sharper‑than‑blade gleam that only comes from surviving judgment.

"Whether to kill him or cleanse the gate," she said.

Her voice was soft, but the tail of each word sounded as if carved stroke by stroke with that Bayonet.

"That's enough."

After speaking, she looked toward Xiao Zhang in the shadows.