There is no justice in this world.
The judge's gavel struck three times. The sound echoed through the grand, cold courtroom, bouncing off the polished old wooden walls. Reporters' cameras flashed nonstop, chasing every change in my expression.
On the large screen behind the prosecutor's seat, rows of numbers were displayed neatly. Fund transfers. National infrastructure projects. Overseas accounts. Red lines connected everything to a single name.
My name.
"The defendant is strongly suspected of committing corruption that has caused losses to the state amounting to billions of dollars."
Strongly suspected.
An interesting choice of words.
I stood in the defendant's dock, my hands cuffed. The detainee uniform felt rough against my skin. In the front row, my family sat stiffly. My father kept his head down. My older brother stared straight ahead, as if I were a stranger.
No one looked at me.
The prosecutor continued, playing recorded conversations that had clearly been cut and rearranged. Clips of my signature were shown again and again. Documents I had never even fully read.
Quiet whispers spread through the courtroom as the recording ended.
Funny.
You see, to reach justice, one must first know the truth.
Unfortunately, humans are mortal beings incapable of grasping it.
What people hear is opinion, not fact.What they see is perspective, not truth.
They heard the prosecutor's narrative.They saw my signature on the screen.They read the headlines prepared since morning.
And that was enough.
The judge lifted his head, his gaze cold.
"Defendant, do you have any final statement?"
The room fell silent.
Ah.
Now I understand.
This isn't about right or wrong.
It's about who gets to write the story first.
I took a slow breath.
"No," I answered at last.
Not because I had given up.
But because I realized—whatever I said would not change what they already believed.
The gavel rose again.
And for the first time, I truly understood the sentence that had crossed my mind since the trial began:
There is no justice in this world.
There is only a majority agreement on what they want to believe is true.
The judge lowered his head briefly, reading the final document in his hand. When he spoke, his voice was neutral, almost bored—as if he were reading a meeting agenda, not deciding a human life.
"Based on the facts presented in court and valid evidence, the defendant is proven guilty of committing large-scale corruption. His actions have seriously harmed the state and caused severe negative impact."
"The court decides: the defendant is sentenced to death."
Without realizing it, a smile formed on my lips.
DISGUSTING
…
Footsteps echoed softly through a vast stone corridor.
Towering walls rose on both sides, lit by red torches whose flames flickered like the breath of a living creature. The air smelled of iron and something bitter—a familiar scent in a place where life held little value.
Zhou Tianyun walked forward without looking back, his expression calm, his back straight.
At the side of the corridor, a man lay on the ground, his body trembling. His hand reached out, fingers shaking as he grasped at empty air.
"P–please…" His voice was hoarse, barely audible.
Standing over him was another man—tall, broad-shouldered, danger radiating from every movement. A dark red sword was embedded in the victim's back, the blade vibrating slightly as if thirsty for blood.
Zhou Tianyun passed between them. This kind of scene was nothing more than daily routine.
His gaze stayed fixed ahead. His steps neither slowed nor quickened. As if the scream were nothing but a gust of wind brushing past his ears before fading away.
And that was exactly what it was.
In the Blood Sword Sect, killing fellow disciples was not an absolute violation. As long as it wasn't excessive—as long as it didn't disrupt the balance of power—the blood spilled was merely the price of survival.
In this place, the weak were not protected.The strong would take everything.
Zhou Tianyun understood this quickly, even though memories of his previous life still echoed faintly in his mind. This world did not demand justification. It demanded results.
He walked past the final corridor, the sounds behind him fading away.
No pity.No anger.
Only one thought repeated, cold and clear:
If I want to live here… I must survive.
The wooden dormitory door creaked softly as it opened. Zhou Tianyun stepped inside and closed it behind him, cutting off the outside world as if turning off a light.
Tomorrow, blood would flow again.
And he had to make sure—it wouldn't be his.
The room was silent. A faint scent of incense still lingered in the air.
In the center of the room, a woman stood waiting.
Her jet-black hair fell straight past her waist, gleaming faintly under the lantern light. The tips were smooth like silk, contrasting with her pale, flawless skin. Her eyes—deep violet, like amethyst submerged in shadow—slowly lifted when she sensed his presence.
Her gaze was clear. Too clear for someone in her position.
She wore a thin hanfu in pale bluish white. Simple fabric, yet unable to hide her graceful posture and delicate shoulders. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her abdomen.
As soon as Zhou Tianyun fully stepped inside, the woman bowed deeply.
"Greetings, Young Master."
Her voice was gentle. Controlled. Not trembling.
As if she were not someone whose fate had already been decided.
Zhou Tianyun stopped a few steps away from her.
Alright.
How should I deal with this woman?
Yesterday, somehow, I reincarnated into this world.
Into the body of a cultivator whose reputation… could not be called clean.
And the girl in front of me—according to the original owner's memories—was supposed to be ground into a pill that very day. A rare ingredient with a special constitution. That was her fate.
But now I was the one controlling this body.
And everything became complicated.
If I released her, the elders and other disciples would start asking questions. They knew she had been brought here. They knew for what purpose.
Suspicion would arise.
And if that suspicion turned toward me… in a sect like this, it would be the same as signing my own death warrant.
But I also didn't want to do anything to her.
Locking her up here? That was no different from the original plan.
Releasing her? Too risky.
Killing her? Even the thought made my chest feel uncomfortable.
In the end, any of those choices would draw attention I didn't want.
Her gaze lifted slightly.
She waited calmly.
Damn it.
Zhou Tianyun stepped closer and stopped right in front of her.
"Do you know," he said softly, looking down at her, "why you were brought here?"
The woman fell silent for a moment.
Then she answered honestly.
"I know, Young Master."
There was no hatred in her voice.
No pleading.
Only acceptance, as if her fate had already been sealed.
"And why can you act so calm, as if nothing has happened?" His voice was low, sharp.
"Isn't that obvious."
The girl slowly stepped closer to Zhou Tianyun. Without warning, she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her chest.
"You didn't kill me that day not out of mercy, but because you wanted to enjoy this body."