As soon as Andrew Han spoke, he saw the face of Brunelle, inspector‑general of the Law‑Enforcement Pavilion Mory Sector Branch, drain of color—ashen as rice paper. The black veil on the long table before her instantly shattered into dust.
Faint ripples began to spread.
Clearly, her emotional turmoil was extreme.
"Andrew Han."
Brunelle spoke in a low voice, dropping the usual honorifics, her tone tinged with reluctant defiance.
"Lord Andrew Han, you are our race’s Heaven‑King from the Archaic Hall." Brunelle truly could not understand: "Why bother with this muddy business? In terms of status and future potential, the Cosmic Eternal Realm isn’t your limit. Is this trivial matter really worth your attention? Is it worth it?"
She could not fathom Andrew Han’s reasoning.
For such a renowned and formidable Human Heaven‑King to personally investigate her—it seemed a gross misallocation of talent, like using a spatial distortion cannon to annihilate an ordinary Starlight‑tier lifeform.
"Lord Andrew Han."
Brunelle took a deep breath, seated herself with unusual calm, and spoke in a slightly somber tone: "I have had the fortune to hear of your cultivation exploits—from a native life planet to the starry sky, rising as a peerless Heaven‑King. I imagine you are not one to obsess over punishing evil or upholding justice, and you should have little interest in presiding over so‑called moral righteousness. You ought to empathize with our inner hardships—the bitter compromises we are forced to make..."
The long table fell into dead silence; the Law‑Enforcement Pavilion staff were left dumbfounded.
Only Brunelle’s somber voice echoed in the empty conference room. Andrew Han flicked his fingertips: "So, what’s your question?"
"I’d like to ask," Brunelle stared intently into Andrew Han’s eyes, "what exactly drives you, a Human Heaven‑King, to lower yourself to this? To put it plainly, I, Brunelle, am known for reading people. I can see you have no zeal for power or judgment, nor are you meddlesome. Normally, you would mind your own business."
The others at the conference table glanced at Andrew Han, all kinds of perceptions and gazes lingering between him and Brunelle.
"You’re wrong."
Andrew Han straightened, raised his finger, and swayed it back and forth two or three times: "Might makes right. I need no reason to investigate you."
Swish, swish.
Andrew Han slid the stack of denunciation papers—white as snow—across to Brunelle: "Sign it. I sentence you to eight million epochs in Star Prison."
"Huh?" Brunelle was stunned. "Wasn’t it three million epochs just now?"
Andrew Han flashed a set of gleaming white teeth, smiling slowly: "That was the past tense."
"This..."
Brunelle was speechless, unable to reply.
Andrew Han shook his head silently, his expression calm.
He had given her a chance, but she refused to comply, dragging things out for so long and still hoping for leniency. Andrew Han no longer bothered answering Brunelle’s questions. Since he had accepted the cultivation resources provided by the Pavilion, he had to shoulder the corresponding responsibilities.
If entrusted with a task, one must fulfill it faithfully.
Since ancient times, it has been a principle in Huaguo: if you take payment, you must do the work. Having received cultivation resources, how could he simply enjoy the benefits and refuse the obligations? Besides, the Pavilion’s appointment of him as inspector envoy was likely also the Archaic Hall’s intent.
Andrew Han said coldly, "Sign it."
"Fine, I’ll sign. I admit to everything!"
Brunelle gritted her teeth, feeling a powerless weakness seep into her body and soul. She reached out and signed each denunciation paper. She had wanted to struggle, even considered flipping the table and resisting, but in the end, it would have been futile.
She had lived through countless ages and understood how to weigh gains and losses.
These crimes, in themselves, were insignificant—not yet reaching the level of true ‘sin.’ But if she had attacked a Human Heaven‑King, the Archaic Hall would have dealt with her severely; as an ordinary Cosmic Eternal, she would have had nowhere to escape.
Swish, swish—Brunelle signed at lightning speed.
The atmosphere in the conference room was heavy. Everyone sat in silence, not daring to breathe, cold sweat beading on their foreheads, terrified of drawing Andrew Han’s attention.
A Cosmic Eternal—an immortal!
She awaited her fate without protest, her worldview utterly shattered.
"Hmph."
Andrew Han glanced at Brunelle, his indifferent gaze sweeping over the crowd. He had formally joined the Pavilion, like an employee entering a company—receiving generous pay and attentive leadership. Who could shamelessly take a salary without doing the work?
Fulfilling one’s duties, at the very least, repays the cultivation resources received. That was a matter of principle.
Of course.
During this period, it was best if he could promote law‑enforcement ideals and, incidentally, fulfill his childhood dreams or align his work with his own beliefs. He had no ambition for grand achievements—he only needed a clear conscience. "Next is the deputy inspector‑general."
...
In just one day, both the inspector-general and deputy inspector-general of the Mory Sector Branch of the Law‑Enforcement Pavilion lost their positions and were sentenced to Star Prison.
When the news broke, the entire sector was shaken. Most officials felt anxious and uneasy; some even prepared to pack up and leave Mory Sector, as if a stagnant lake had suddenly erupted in ripples.
"Absurd! Outrageous! This is pure bullying!"
"Sending a Human Heaven‑King to investigate us—there’s no way for us to survive. Some violations are inevitable, especially in commerce, communications, planetary mining, and construction. We all have unspoken agreements, but now what? Are we supposed to expect Andrew Han to go along with our tacit understandings?"
"There’s no way we’ll all rise and fall together."
"Even if we share our profits, Andrew Han probably won’t care. He cultivates alone, and the whole race benefits."
"What do we do? We can’t cover up all those emptied star systems. If we strictly follow the Star‑Sky Humans Basic Law, reducing population numbers is a major crime—serious cases are classified as ‘sinful acts.’"
Some officials panicked; some great families convened emergency meetings. For a time, the Mory Sector was in upheaval.
It must be understood.