Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

The slow rhythm was abruptly broken in the next instant!

The young man's right hand, which was forming a sword gesture, suddenly shot out, leaving a blurry afterimage in the air. He made six quick, consecutive, and seemingly random taps towards the foreheads of the six mentally disabled people in the room.

Liu Junpeng did not see any beam of light, airflow, or anything substantial fly out.

But the instant the young man finished tapping the button, he clearly felt something unseen in the room vibrate slightly.

Then, he saw a sight he would never forget.

Those six pairs of eyes, which were originally empty, unfocused, and seemingly always shrouded in thick shadows, all flashed with clear light the moment the dot was placed between their brows.

An indescribable sense of "awakening," like a tiny stream in early spring, silently washed over those six blank faces.

Beneath the murky depths of his eyes, something seemed to be illuminated for a moment, revealing a hint of bewilderment, yet something more than mere blankness—a primal and vague "perception" of his own existence, of his current situation, of joy, sorrow, and pain, being quietly awakened from a long slumber.

【Sword Heart Clarity】

"Are these the people outside who locked you in the brick kiln to work, beat you, and scold you?" Zhang Qiliang stepped aside so that the six people inside could clearly see Wu Laosi and the other two standing stiffly like wooden stakes outside the door.

The sword intent, though initially clear and bright, is far from sufficient to comprehend the complexities of the world, yet it naturally feels a sense of closeness and trust towards the caster.

This vague sense of security led their bewildered consciousness to strangely grasp the core connection in the question.

They may not fully understand the full meaning of "brick factory," but their hearts, which have been quietly cleansed, resonate most directly with the connotations of "closed," "beaten," and "scolding" that are closely linked to pain.

His gaze slowly shifted to the doorway, landing on three faces etched with fear.

After a brief silence, hesitant voices began to ring out one by one:

“It was…it was him.” Zhou Xiaohui, standing near the door, fixed his gaze on Sun Fucai’s fair face, his fingers unconsciously picking at the hem of his clothes. His voice was weak yet clear, “I…I was picking up food on the side of a road with lots of big trucks and billowing black smoke…He gave me a steamed bun and said he would take me to a good place where I would have steamed buns every day…So he pulled me into his car and took me to a noisy, dusty place…”

“He…he hit me!” Chen Dayong raised his hand, pointed at Li Qiang, made a hoarse sound in his throat, and for the first time, a faint fluctuation of “anger” appeared in his eyes.

He covered the purplish-black bruise on his ribs with his other hand, and as he spoke, the long scar on his face twitched slightly in the dim light, “Use…use a flat stick…to whip! Whip if you don’t obey! And kick!”

"It's hot... He used something red... It burned me..." The middle-aged man, curled up in the corner and covered with dotted scars, stared intently at Li Qiang, then turned his fearful gaze to Wu Laosi. His body trembled violently, and he hugged himself even tighter, as if his long-healed skin was feeling the burning pain again.

“The rope… it’s so tight… I can’t move…” another young man with dark marks on his wrists and ankles murmured, his gaze shifting between Sun Fucai and Li Qiang before finally settling on Sun Fucai. “He… tied us up… saying he was afraid we’d run away…”

Wang Fugui, drooling, looked at this and then that, and suddenly burst into tears, pointing incoherently at Wu Laosi: "I'm scared...stricken...won't give me food...my stomach hurts..."

Finally, the man who had been facing the wall with whip marks crisscrossing his back slowly turned his head. His deep-set eyes swept over the three people outside the door like a wounded animal, finally landing on Wu Laosi's silk pajamas, which overlapped with a certain arrogant figure in his memory. His lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a complete sentence, but instead let out a long whimper filled with pain and fear.

“I just checked the place where you work. It’s a bit remote, but not so deserted that no one is there,” Zhang Qiliang said. “Has no one seen you in the past few years?”

This problem is clearly more difficult for a newly awakened mind than identifying the perpetrator.

A deeper sense of confusion surfaced in their eyes, and fragments of memory swirled chaotically.

But a certain emotion, suppressed for too long, mixed with a faint hope and even more grievances, still pushed the broken words to be squeezed out intermittently from their dry throats.

“I…I saw it…” Chen Dayong frowned, trying hard to recall, “There was…there was a child…climbing over the wall…throwing stones…laughing…”

“There…someone was herding sheep…passing by over there…” the man with crisscrossing whip marks on his back mumbled, his fingers unconsciously digging into the bed frame. “He watched…watched for a long time…and then left…”

“Wearing…wearing a straw hat…carrying a hoe…resting by the roadside…” Zhou Xiaohui’s eyes darted around, his voice very soft, “asking me…where I came from…Scarface…Scarface yelled at him, and he…he left…”

“Big…Big peaked cap…” Wang Fugui suddenly interrupted, drooling even more, his face showing a childlike tattling expression, “Come…Come before! The car…has four wheels…makes a sound!”

“There were…there were people wearing…wearing those kinds of clothes…” The young man with marks on his wrists tried to add. He couldn’t distinguish the differences between uniforms and could only describe it with the most intuitive impression, “He came to…the kiln…talked to the boss…laughed…and smoked…and then…and then he left…”

“The village…the village…officials…” The man facing the wall finally managed to squeeze out a relatively complete sentence, each word uttered with difficulty, “They…they also came…to see…and said…to be careful…to be safe…”

What happens after that?

Gone.

Who is the man in the peaked cap?

The young man turned around, slightly raised his chin, and the three men who had been "planted" against the wall opposite him immediately gained the ability to speak again.

"Brother, I was wrong. I still have some money. Just name your price..."

"Brother, which gang are you from?"

"Fast track! Fast track! Help!"

Hehehe...

The child is disobedient.

Zhang Qiliang slowly walked over.

One minute later, three flat little fingers appeared.

All three of them behaved themselves.

“It’s…it’s Wang Kuaiban from town…” Old Wu’s face was ashen, his teeth chattering, and he spoke first, no longer daring to hide anything, “He…he’s in charge of the security in our area…sometimes he comes…to check on things…”

“The village…village party secretary, Li Defu…” Li Qiang, his forehead covered in cold sweat, squeezed out the name through gritted teeth, “He brought people to inspect the fire prevention…just to go through the motions…”

“And…and there was also a…a clerk from the county who was persuading Lin, surnamed Zhao…” Sun Fucai trembled the most, his words incoherent, “He…he came twice…saying we were discharging sewage…then…then they blocked it up a bit…and then he never came again…”

"address."

Despite the excruciating pain and fear, the three of them haltingly recited the approximate addresses or places they remembered these people frequenting.

“Okay.” The young man nodded, turned around, and vanished from everyone’s sight in a flash.

Holy crap! What speed!

No, no, that person is already gone!!!

Countless thoughts arose in Liu Junpeng's mind.

Report to the authorities? Report to your superiors? Or run away as fast as you can?

A series of commotion filled the air: "Call the police!" "Brother, could you please call home for me?" "Close the door!!!"

Liu Junpeng turned around and saw that the six inmates inside the door had their hateful gazes fixed on the three people who couldn't move at all.

“Hey,” at this moment, the man who had been facing the wall jumped off the bed and stopped his fellow inmates: “No need.”

What should I do?

Liu Junpeng was in complete confusion.

Before I could even sort things out, less than three minutes later, another shadow suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor.

This time, three more clumps of mud appeared at the young man's feet.

As usual, Zhang Qiliang walked to the wall and "planted" the three newcomers side by side: "Is it them?"

The six people inside the door turned their gaze to the three newly arrived "stakes".

The initial clarity that the swordsmen possessed did not imbue them with worldly hatred or complex moral judgments.

They don't understand what "officials protecting each other" means, let alone what "dereliction of duty" or "cover-up" means.

Their understanding remains at the most primitive and direct level of sensory perception.

Staring at the man in the imitation shirt, Chen Dayong frowned deeply, trying to recall fragments buried deep in painful memories.

He pointed to the bruise on his ribs, then to the man, making a muffled sound in his throat: "He... came to see me... that day, Scarface beat me really badly... he was talking to the boss at the kiln entrance... smoking... laughing..."

Zhou Xiaohui's gaze fell on the man dressed in the cadre jacket. He shrank back slightly, his fingers unconsciously starting to fiddle with the bedsheets again. "He... came by too... asked us... where we were from... the boss... the boss said he was a relative's mentally challenged child, here to help... and then... oh... left..."

The man, whose body was covered with dotted burn scars, glanced at the three men before finally fixing his gaze on the one from the academy who had persuaded Lin Yuan. Without saying a word, he suddenly pulled up his tattered vest, revealing the old, whitish circular scars on his stomach, and then quickly curled up, emitting a whimper like a small animal.

A vague memory associated with "inspection," "trouble," and "pain" was triggered, bringing a purely physiological sense of fear and trembling.

As they spoke, the clarity that had been ignited in the eyes of the inmates began to recede like the tide, replaced by a lingering confusion and turbidity.

There's no way around it; the clarity of the sword heart is meant to cleanse ignorance and reveal the fleeting brilliance of one's true nature, not to remain forever.

Fortunately, we don't need to bother them with what happens next.

"I'll have to trouble you to keep an eye on things," Zhang Qiliang smiled at Liu Junpeng. "There are a few others who want to come and inspect in person."

Liu Junpeng had lost the ability to think; he could only nod blankly, unable to utter a sound.

The third wave arrived two minutes later.

A middle-aged man wearing a shirt with the county household registration office logo and a folder tucked under his arm; an elderly woman with gray hair who had come to visit him a few days ago from the Disabled Persons' Federation; and a clerk from the county patrol team, whose face still showed bewilderment and shock at being forcibly interrupted from his sleep.

They were also "planted" by the wall, joining the silent "human stakes".

Two more minutes passed.

The air rippled again, and four more figures appeared.

This time, there were two men in uniform but without hats—they looked like they were on duty; a woman with a badge on her jacket and who looked like an official—she also looked familiar, probably a street or community worker; and another one who always seemed aloof, probably a technician from the epidemic prevention center.

They were treated the same and stood side by side.

Two more minutes.

The three newcomers were noticeably more well-dressed.

Liu Junpeng had no recollection of these individuals; all he could see on their faces was extreme confusion and a growing sense of fear.

Two more minutes passed.

Liu Junpeng's breathing completely stopped.

Only one person was invited this time.

Magistrate of Hope County.

68 Dismissed

The inspection team had assembled, and Zhang Qiliang waved.

With the ban lifted, more than a dozen voices simultaneously regained their function.

"Sir, do you know what you're doing? This is a serious crime!"

"Young man, I can understand your impulsiveness at such a young age. It's not too late to stop now..."

"Help! Help! Is anyone there—"

"I am a civil servant; you are going against the entire system!"

Pleas for mercy, threats, well-intentioned advice, and righteous questioning instantly filled the narrow corridor.

Zhang Qiliang didn't hear a single word.

He slowly strolled and stopped beside the three men who, in Liu Junpeng's mind, were "more respectable and of unknown origin."

“Perfect timing, you’re from the Censorate… I’d like to ask you something,” Zhang Qiliang said, looking at a man around fifty years old with graying temples, positioned diagonally behind the county magistrate: “Illegal detention, forced labor, intentional injury—how many years should these offenses be punished with?”

The censor's Adam's apple bobbed, and absurdity pounded in his chest.

He opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to say "no one can be convicted without a trial," to say "procedural justice," to say "you have no law enforcement power"...

"With so many people watching, I suggest you think carefully before you speak. Don't let everyone laugh at your professional abilities."

The censor's pupils contracted slightly.

After about three seconds of silence, the prosecutor spoke:

"Wu Changgui, the principal offender, was convicted of illegal detention causing serious injury, forced labor with particularly serious circumstances, and intentional injury causing minor injury or above to multiple people. He is to be sentenced to twelve to fifteen years in prison for multiple crimes. Li Qiang and Sun Fucai were active participants and are principal offenders or important accomplices. They are to be sentenced to eight to twelve years in prison, and six to ten years in prison, respectively."

The inspector paused, then added, "Of course, this is a preliminary judgment based on the existing evidence and the provisions of the criminal law... The specific sentence should be ultimately decided by the judicial authorities."

Zhang Qiliang thought about it very seriously.

"Forget it, let's not bother the judge."

After saying that, Zhang Qiliang turned around and walked towards Wu Laosi and the other two.

"You...what do you want to..."

Wu Laosi wanted to back away, but his body wouldn't obey him at all.

Zhang Qiliang raised his hand.

With a flick of the fingers, it's as if something is being scooped up from the unseen surface of water.

Everyone stared wide-eyed.

They could not see anything "things," not light, not air, not any entity that conformed to their cognition.

But everyone clearly felt that something was being stripped away from Wu Laosi.

It is not blood, not flesh, not any form that can be named.

That is life itself.