The following morning, the usual bustling energy of the sect hummed with tension, but for Jia Wei Xin, it felt sharper, more personal. Her conversation with Yan Ping the night before had left her seething—a controlled, calculating anger burning beneath her composed facade. This wasn't the blind fury of youth; it was the strategic rage of a seasoned COO assessing a crisis.
She knew that confronting Pa Ti Cia directly, while satisfying in the moment, would be a foolish move. It would be a messy, public confrontation that yielded no lasting solution, only more complications. She needed evidence, a deeper understanding of the power dynamics at play.
"We need to go see Pa Ti Cia," Jia Wei Xin stated to Yan Ping, her voice firm. Yan Ping's eyes widened, a flicker of fear in their depths. "But… why? She'll just deny everything. Or worse, she'll do something even worse to me."
"We're not confronting her," Jia Wei Xin said, her voice low and deliberate. "We're observing. Let's see how far she'll go when she thinks no one's watching. She'll hang herself with her own arrogance."
So, under the guise of an official visit regarding "student welfare initiatives"—a sarcastic jab that only Jia Wei Xin truly appreciated—they found Pa Ti Cia in her lavishly appointed office within the student dormitory.
Pa Ti Cia was a woman in her late thirties, exuding brittle elegance and eyes like cold steel, her self-importance so tangible it seemed to taint the air around her. She greeted them with a polite, almost dismissive nod, her gaze sweeping over Yan Ping with an expression that bordered on contempt.
"Ah, the celebrated Jia Wei Xin," Pa Ti Cia purred, her voice sweet as poisoned honey. "And her… companion. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
Jia Wei Xin maintained a respectful, yet distant, demeanor. "We simply wanted to understand the current welfare policies better, especially concerning the integration of new and… less prominent students."
Pa Ti Cia's smile widened, revealing a disturbing sense of impunity. She actually boasted about her methods, her voice carrying a chilling conviction. "It is essential to maintain order, Jia Wei Xin. Order to separate the good students from the not-so-good, so that the latter do not have undue influence. Discipline ensures the sect's purity and strength. Sometimes, a firm hand is required for those who forget their place. Those who cause unrest or disrupt the natural hierarchy must be… guided." Her words, though cloaked in the language of order, were undeniably sinister, echoing the rhetoric of extreme racism and classism Jia Wei Xin had encountered in the modern world. Pa Ti Cia genuinely believed she was doing the right thing, utterly devoid of guilt, which made her infinitely more dangerous.
"You forget your place, Jia Wei Xin," Pa Ti Cia suddenly said, her eyes glinting dangerously as if sensing a challenge. "I report directly to Elder Hai. Your little victory doesn't change the hierarchy here." The veiled threat was unmistakable. Jia Wei Xin simply smiled politely, a glint of steel in her eyes that Pa Ti Cia, in her arrogance, completely missed.
It was clear she felt untouchable, a pawn of Elder Hai's making, her arrogance rooted in blind loyalty. Jia Wei Xin's fists clenched at her sides, but she forced herself to smile. "Thank you for your insight. I'll be sure to remember it."
She had seen enough.
Leaving Pa Ti Cia's office, Jia Wei Xin took Yan Ping directly to Liu Mo Fei's private study. She knew, instinctively, that this was the correct next step. While beating Pa Ti Cia into a pulp might offer a fleeting sense of satisfaction, it wouldn't dismantle the systemic issues that allowed such abuse to flourish. This was a leadership problem, and Liu Mo Fei, as the head of the sect, needed to address it.
Liu Mo Fei, typically composed and serene, listened intently as Jia Wei Xin, with Yan Ping nodding in confirmation, recounted the events. He watched Yan Ping's bruised arms and the fear in her eyes, his handsome face growing steadily darker. As Jia Wei Xin detailed Pa Ti Cia's chilling justification and her direct connection to Elder Hai, a vein throbbed visibly at Liu Mo Fei's temple. When she finished, a profound silence descended, heavy with unspoken rage.
Then, with a controlled exhale, Liu Mo Fei's voice, though calm, vibrated with barely contained fury. "This is unacceptable. Utterly, completely unacceptable." He rose from his desk, pacing briefly before turning back to them. "Yan Ping, please return to your quarters. I will handle this. I promise you, this will be settled within three days."
Yan Ping, though still shaken, felt a flicker of hope. She bowed deeply and left, leaving Jia Wei Xin alone with the sect leader.
As the door clicked shut, Liu Mo Fei turned to Jia Wei Xin, his expression softening, a hint of concern in his eyes. He reached out to hug her, but Jia Wei Xin instinctively shrugged him off, a sharp, almost defensive gesture. She was furious, truly furious. Not just at Pa Ti Cia, but at him. How could this have happened under his watch? How could a system allow such blatant cruelty and injustice to fester?
"How could you let this happen?" she demanded, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. "You're the head of this sect, Liu Mo Fei! This kind of unfairness, this systemic abuse… it's been happening for who knows how long. How could you not know? How could you let it stand?"
Liu Mo Fei flinched, the accusation hitting him hard. He knew she was right, at least in spirit. Running a sect this size was like managing a vast, ancient empire with countless moving parts. He had set policies, relied on the reports of elders and officials, yet something this fundamental had slipped past his gaze. Or perhaps, in the back of his mind, he'd chosen not to look too closely.
Jia Wei Xin's eyes blazed with righteous fury as she stepped closer. "Are you willing to tear down the hierarchy, Liu Mo Fei? Is this what you believe—a natural order where children are whipped for daring to exist? Is this the kind of sect you want to lead?" Her voice cracked, emotion bleeding into every word.
Liu Mo Fei felt something shift deep within him. He wasn't sure why he hadn't acted before—maybe it was fear, or inertia, or the weight of tradition. But with Jia Wei Xin by his side, a new energy surged through him, a clarity he hadn't possessed alone. He met her gaze, his own eyes burning with newfound resolve.
"You're right," he said, his voice low but firm. "No more excuses. No more blind eyes. I will tear it down if I have to. And with you at my side, I know we can rebuild something better."
Jia Wei Xin hesitated, surprised by the strength of his response, but before she could speak, Liu Mo Fei closed the distance between them, drawing her into his arms. She didn't resist this time, though her body remained tense.
"I'm so sorry, Wei Xin," he murmured against her hair. "Truly. This will not stand. I will fix this, and I'll make sure it never happens again." His words were laced with steel, a vow etched into the very fabric of the sect's future.
They stood there for a long moment, two figures alone in the quiet night, a shared determination binding them together. But even as the warmth of resolve settled between them, a faint rustle echoed outside the study door—a hushed footstep, a flicker of movement in the moonlight. Someone was listening.