Chapter 12: Methods of Proof

This challenge was like pouring a ladle of cold water into a boiling pot of oil, instantly causing the auditorium to erupt in chaos.

All eyes darted back and forth between the Ke Family Clan Leader and the dignitaries on the stage, shock etched across their faces. The atmosphere, which had momentarily eased, instantly tensed again, now thick with even greater suspicion than before.

The invited journalists felt their trip was more than worthwhile. They were witnessing a rare gathering of influential figures and an earth-shattering revelation.

They aimed their cameras and recording equipment at the storm's epicenter—the podium—zooming in as close as possible, determined not to miss a single frame of this historic confrontation or a single word of the fiery exchange.

They could already foresee the colossal tidal wave this news would unleash, and they themselves might be standing on the precipice of a career-defining moment.

Ke Zhan stood on the stage, impervious to the flashing cameras, his gaze burning with intensity as he locked eyes with Hysilens and the Provincial Prosecutor-General.

"How can you prove your 'refinement' isn't just another form of manipulation?" he demanded. "Until you can prove your innocence, I demand an immediate halt to this process!"

His words thrust the storm to an unprecedented climax.

The audience erupted in murmurs:

"Good heavens! The Ke Family Clan Leader himself has arrived! Is he going to confront the Provincial Prosecutor-General and the Su Family head-on?"

"He does make a valid point... What if this 'expert' really uses this opportunity to brainwash us?"

"This is too intense! Plot twist after plot twist—even a drama series wouldn't dare to script something like this!"

"Who are we supposed to believe? On one side, the Prosecutor-General and the expert; on the other, the Ke Family Clan Leader..."

"Who knows? In these power struggles between titans, we're just pawns."

The diverse speculations intertwined, weaving a vast and chaotic web of uncertainty.

Everyone watched with rapt attention as the key figures faced off.

Father Su remained unruffled, his lips curling into a cold, mocking smile:

"Clan Leader Ke, you can't be naive enough to think we wouldn't anticipate your kind of baseless obstruction after going to such lengths to mobilize resources, can you?"

Ke Zhan stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression grave. His voice suddenly rose, ringing with righteous indignation and even a hint of tragic heroism, as if he were pleading for the people's sake:

"If that's the case, then produce concrete evidence! Reveal it publicly before all the students and the media! Let the truth be known and restore justice to the people!"

His words rang with unwavering conviction, his posture impeccable. His fearless, righteous demeanor, had one not known the truth, could easily have deceived many present.

One had to admit, Ke Zhan's psychological fortitude and acting skills had reached perfection, allowing him to spin even the most brazen lies with such majestic authority.

Yet, black and white cannot ultimately be inverted, nor truth and falsehood forever blurred.

Father Su ceased the verbal sparring. He simply turned slightly toward the auditorium entrance and called out in a clear voice, "Senior, please make your presence known."

The moment his words left his lips, the light at the auditorium entrance seemed to flicker briefly. A lean, elderly man, leaning on an ebony cane, glided silently into the hall.

His gait was slow and steady, the cane's tap against the floor clear but not loud—yet it strangely suppressed all the surrounding noise.

The old man leisurely picked at his ear, his brow furrowing in disdain.

He glanced at the sea of faces below and the still-flashing camera lenses. His voice, though not loud, carried clearly to every ear:

"Tch, all this racket sounds like a flock of sparrows squawking at a meeting. This old man's ears are about to go deaf from your noise."

Despite the old man's disdainful remark, not a single person in the hall dared to voice their displeasure. After all, how could someone whom even the Su Family Clan Leader addressed as "Senior" be anything less than extraordinary?

Ke Zhan felt a growing unease. Before the elder's sudden appearance, he hadn't sensed the slightest trace of his presence.

It was worth remembering that Ke Zhan, having cultivated the Ke Family's unique martial arts, possessed soul-piercing eyes that made him exceptionally perceptive among Martial Grandmasters. Yet he had completely failed to detect this old man.

This elder's cultivation must surpass mine, Ke Zhan thought. At the very least, he's a King-level Martial Artist.

The elder's gaze swept over Ke Zhan. "So, you're the one questioning this?" he asked mildly.

Facing an unknown powerhouse, Ke Zhan dared not act arrogant. He cupped his hands respectfully. "Senior, this matter is of grave importance. We cannot rush to judgment based on mere rumors. Otherwise, the Ke Family would suffer a great injustice."

At these words, the old man's grizzled eyebrows twitched slightly, as if amused and annoyed in equal measure.

He clicked his tongue, his voice dripping with undisguised disdain. "Young man, speak plainly. You're hiding eight hundred schemes in your heart, yet you insist on putting on this act of having suffered some great injustice, beating around the bush with your twisted words and strange, insinuating manner. Listening to you makes my teeth ache."

He paused, tapping his cane lightly against the ground. His voice remained even, ruthlessly piercing through Ke Zhan's pretense.

"Aren't you just insinuating that I'd fabricate evidence for them, and that my judgment—based on nothing but my word—is worthless?"

That was precisely Ke Zhan's point. Even if the old man's power was unfathomable, only a handful of people in the entire hall—Father Su and a few others—recognized him.

How could the testimony of an obscure senior with an unknown background possibly convince everyone?

"Senior, this junior means no disrespect, but..." Ke Zhan began to weasel his way out, but the old man cut him off impatiently.

"Enough, enough. Shut up and stop bickering."

Tired of arguing, the old man swiftly drew a neatly folded document from his inner pocket and slapped it onto the podium with a sharp thud.

A technician nearby immediately understood the signal and projected the document's contents onto the large screen behind the podium.

It was a Certificate of Authorization for Special Equipment Dispatch and Usage issued by the Central Examination Authority under the Human Imperium's Higher Education Bureau, complete with a vivid red electronic seal and anti-counterfeit codes.

The document contained all the necessary details—reference number, a list of approved equipment, and the authorized access level—leaving no room for doubt about its authenticity.

"Hmph, bring them in," the old man snorted, his cloudy eyes sweeping over Ke Zhan's suddenly pale face before he waved his hand.

The side doors of the auditorium swung open, and a team of technicians in Central Examination Authority uniforms silently and efficiently wheeled in several peculiar-looking devices. Precision indicators flashed across their surfaces.

"See clearly, everyone!" the old man's voice echoed through the hushed hall. "The ones who will examine you and draw conclusions aren't just the words of this old man."

He raised his hand, pointing toward the sophisticated devices that were activating with a low hum.

"These are them!" "The Imperium's most advanced Subconscious Mapping Devices."

"The data they record is automatically synchronized with the central databases of the Education Bureau and the Procuratorate. There's no room for falsification!"

"Now," the old man's gaze, sharp as lightning, pierced through Ke Zhan, whose forehead was beginning to sweat, "surely these ironclad machines will convince you?"

Ke Zhan was truly drenched in sweat at this point.

Why had he dared to use Hypnosis so brazenly? Because in A City, no one could detect his covert manipulations.

These instruments—the only ones capable of detecting the hypnosis of a Martial Grandmaster-Rank Martial Artist like him—could never have been deployed here.

These devices were prohibitively expensive, difficult to manufacture, and simply not widely available—at least, not yet.

Theoretically, it was utterly impossible for them to be so easily mobilized for a case involving a mere municipal middle school!

Meanwhile, in the realm of consciousness unseen by others, a mocking, aged voice entered Hysilens's mind:

"Heh heh, Little Hysilens, look at this! How's my timing and setup? Perfectly timed and impeccably stylish, right?"

The voice dripped with undisguised pride, sounding like an old rascal.

Knowing her Martial Uncle's temperament well, Hysilens replied smoothly, "Of course. Without your influence, we likely wouldn't have been able to summon these entities so quickly."

The old man clearly relished the praise. "Little Hysilens, you're a member of the Knight Order. Don't hesitate to leverage your status when necessary."

Suddenly recalling something, he asked, "Is that girl playing chess under the teaching building the one you want to recruit? This old man wants to observe her."