Outside, rumors spread like wildfire, and the hearts of Demonkind trembled in fear.
“Delicious~ So delicious~”
But inside the Witch Building, Feini was eating Pig Chop Rice every day.
Contrary to the rumors of interrogation and torture, she ate well here, slept soundly, though it did feel a bit like a last meal before execution.
Because this was Feini’s last meal.
7 o’clock in the evening.
“Time to depart.” The Faceless Witch entered the single room and spoke.
She had changed her look, now wearing a white mask just like the other Witch mentors, though hers remained expressionless—still faceless.
Feini had changed too, now dressed in loose-fitting prisoner’s clothes, both hands cuffed in brand new shackles, an iron ball chained to her ankle—these had just been put on.
She’d always looked pitiable, but now she resembled a walking tragedy.
More Witch Guardians appeared along the way, tasked with escorting Feini out.
Each Witch Guardian looked like an inflatable doll, as if magic had been poured into Knight Armor, seemingly lacking individual consciousness.
They left the Witch Office Building and went early to the Tea Ceremony Society’s club building to make preparations, locking Feini in the Tea Ceremony Society’s lounge.
“Training Director, how’s it going?” At the sound of the door closing, Shijietang Simon darted out from the side like a startled mouse.
“The Curse Collar on her neck has already been removed,” said the Faceless Witch.
“So did you get the answer? Who is the real mastermind behind all this?” Shijietang asked anxiously.
“This is an important issue to be brought up at the hearing, not something to discuss now,” the Faceless Witch replied.
“I understand.” Shijietang nodded.
“President Simon, you’ll be the host and Executioner later—this question will be yours to ask the suspect,” the Faceless Witch continued.
“Me?” Shijietang was momentarily stunned.
“This is a good opportunity to establish your authority, to let everyone see what you’re capable of. It’ll help you on your path to promotion,” the Faceless Witch said, feigning mystery.
“Alright, I understand.” Shijietang could only agree.
It was just as well. If she wanted to ally with the Red Dragon, she’d need to get rid of Feini anyway. Now, her allies could witness her resolve firsthand.
What she didn’t know was that she’d already fallen into a trap.
This was Feini’s suggestion—to have Shijietang serve as her own Executioner, so that a certain wooden block’s potential could be forced out completely.
“It’s almost time. Check how the venue is arranged. If everything’s ready, I’ll bring out the main course,” said the Faceless Witch, patting her on the shoulder before drifting away.
“Understood.” Shijietang nodded, grinning as she left for the venue.
But after a few steps, she felt something was off—the Witch’s pat on the shoulder was obviously treating her like a child, or just some nobody, bossing her around. Was she just a servant?
But Shijietang knew where the problem lay. This kind of thing could have been delegated to others, but she had no loyal aides left—everyone had turned their backs on her.
She could no longer trust anyone; all paths were blocked, leaving her to do everything herself.
Being president really was miserable, but no matter—just a bit more endurance, and she’d rise to fame and unify Demonkind.
With a helpless expression, Shijietang arrived at the venue.
Many guests were already seated; the reception and security work were proceeding smoothly, but a large portion of the groundwork still relied on the Senior Staff from the Tea Party to assist.
On the surface, it seemed she’d allied with the Tea Party, but in reality, it was the Tea Party that had her own Tea Ceremony Society under their control.
Little Red Dragon, just you wait—once I get the chance, I’ll reclaim everything I’ve lost.
Alas, Shijietang still didn’t know who her real enemy was—still muddled, all brawn, zero brains.
As she stewed in her vexation…
Qingshamu led White Feather Dove and Heiqi Long into the Tea Ceremony Society building.
The three wore cloaks and hoods, carrying the VIP Invitation Letters Xueyuedai Emma had given them.
With these, they passed without issue, even using a secret back entrance so as not to alert anyone.
Their guides were all Xueyuedai’s trusted followers—she’d secretly cultivated quite a few loyal subordinates in the Tea Ceremony Society, her operational skill far exceeding Shijietang’s.
“You’re here. This is as much as I can do for you—the rest is up to your own strength,” Xueyuedai said, meeting them at the conference room entrance for a brief chat.
“Mhm, take care of yourself,” Qingshamu replied. Only now did she truly trust Xueyuedai.
Though she still didn’t know why Xueyuedai was helping them, they had no choice but to trust her—for without her help, they’d never have gotten in.
The hooded trio entered the mysterious conference room—inside, it had been remodeled into a courtroom.
Seats for the audience surrounded them. The trio picked a corner and sat, quietly observing, waiting for the right moment.
More and more club leaders and Divine Demon Students took their seats. The audience quickly filled up—on the surface, a civilized society, but in truth, a nest of monsters.
Finally, several high-ranking Witches descended upon the court, marking the true start of proceedings.
Sitting at the main seat this time was an Angry-Faced Witch, flanked by several Witch mentors—an intimidating presence. She was clearly the Judge.
With everyone assembled, it was time for the main event.
Witch Guardians and the Faceless Witch began escorting Feini in, locking her in the most important small cage at the center of the venue.
“Is this girl a Pseudo-Demon?”
“I heard there’s an accomplice.”
“She really doesn’t look like a proper demon.”
Around them, the club leaders murmured, sizing up Feini—no matter how they looked, she didn’t resemble a monster.
Her appearance had zero sense of oppression, her aura was too meek. Most beast-type demons, once transformed into human form, would never look so harmless.
It wasn’t a scientific theory, but their bias was set—no matter how they looked at Feini, she just looked wrong—a Pseudo-Demon at first glance.
But it was clear most people were just here to watch the spectacle, barely understanding the trial. After all, Feini wasn’t suspected of being a Pseudo-Demon—she was arrested for being a traitor to Demonkind.
The Witches had already checked—Feini was a pure-blood Weapon Demon.
But the Faceless Witch’s attitude revealed that the Nameless Witch didn’t mind Pseudo-Demons sneaking into the God and Demon Academy.
On the contrary, she welcomed their mischief for the sake of amusement.
Because all high-levels at God and Demon Academy were incarnations of the Witch, it was theoretically impossible for Pseudo-Demon spies to infiltrate the upper echelons.
Unless one could mimic a pure magical energy form, then be absorbed by the Nameless Witch, and still retain a shred of self-awareness.
Feini had figured it out before—the Nameless Witch craved joy and knowledge, not order or freedom, so she wouldn’t bother explaining further.
Once the Faceless Witch escorted Feini over, she sat at the Judge’s table, thoroughly enjoying her performance.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
The Angry-Faced Witch struck her gavel a few times, silencing the hall.
Next, it was Shijietang’s turn to appear.
Under the Witch’s direction, she’d changed into a more aggressive outfit: military uniform on top, black leather pencil skirt and tall boots below, a whip in her hand.
Shijietang’s stunning female-warden look contrasted sharply with Feini’s prison attire.
It seemed tonight would be Feini’s night of humiliation, all to cement authority.
Feini stifled her laughter, keeping up her tragic facade.
She looked around discreetly, soon spotting the hooded trio in the crowd—her plan was progressing smoothly.
Shijietang, on the other hand, didn’t dare look Feini in the eye.
She only snuck a glance at Orange Sea Dream, sitting in the audience.
The latter gave her a subtle “let’s see how you do” expression, which made Shijietang’s breath quicken and her mind twist in anxiety.
Now the roles were reversed—before, it was the Hero tormented by doubts, tangled in endless worries.
Now, it was the Demon King who had grown indecisive and soft-hearted, while the Hero had made up her mind, heart solid as a rock, never to waver again.
But this created a problem—
Now her own daughter and the Hero had become three powder kegs, ready to explode at the slightest spark.
If Shijietang raised her whip, they might rebel on the spot.
That wouldn’t do. Feini couldn’t let Shijietang get away with this easily—she had to teach her a lesson she’d remember for life.
That’s right—this whole play wasn’t set up for Qingshamu, but for Shijietang to taste herself.
“Feini · Rose, do you acknowledge your guilt?” the Angry-Faced Witch began the questioning.
“I do not know what crime I have committed.” Feini answered with defiance.
The Angry-Faced Witch raised her hand and flicked her fingers. The Curse Sword Collar on Feini’s neck unclasped itself, controlled by magic, and floated in midair.
“We’ve removed the cursed item for you. This was definitely the handiwork of a Human Race magician,” she explained. “Now you can tell us who threatened you.”
At these words, the hall grew even quieter—everyone waited for the Weapon Demon to name the culprit.
“Child, just give us a name, and we can pardon your crimes,” the Faceless Witch smiled encouragingly, playing the good cop.
“I. Do. Not. Know.” Feini answered, one word at a time, voice ringing with determination.
The hall erupted into whispers again—this was a blatant slap in the face to the Witches, utterly outrageous.
Could there really be a traitor among Demonkind? What could the Human Race possibly offer to make her defy the Witches’ orders? And at this point, was there any point in staying loyal to them?
The apprentice demons were truly baffled—what had gone wrong?
Those four words hammered into the Hero’s heart like nails.
Qingshamu could no longer sit still, ready to draw her sword and storm the cage.
She had already accepted Feini as her lifelong faith—there was no more hesitation.