He shook his head. “But that’s all cover and justification for the real crime. I, Wang Jun, will selfishly bear false witness against you, an upright inquisitor. You have made it your life’s duty to root out falsehood and evil, but I will frame you, all to commit fratricide. The rest is just incidental.”
Wang Jun looked at the meditating man for a good long while before sighing one final time, tossing a pile of crystal shards on the ground, and forming swift hand seals. Inky black threads burst out from Wang Jun and poured into the man, tainting the halo of light that surrounded him.
The man’s shadow grew. Long thin strands extended from it and shot out into his surroundings. They went to the nearby neighborhood, to his workplace, to the commercial districts, and to a dozen odd blurry objects that began taking shape in front of Wang Jun. Endless moments passed as these threads connected Inquisitor Deng to individuals he barely knew, in ways he would have never considered. Some pulsed red with karma of resentment, and others gold with karma of gratitude. These new threads contained intermixed good and bad, specifically implanted to confuse any scrying that might reveal them.
With an inaudible snap of Wang Jun’s fingers, they latched into place, and as these threads solidified, the blurry objects he’d placed before him appeared along with them. Some materialized as sheets of paper, others as recording orbs. Some were jade slips containing oral testimony, others accounts and bank records. They hadn’t been real moments ago, not in any dimension or timeline. But now that karma had been sown, they were just as real as anything else. They were heresy to truth and light.
Wang Jun panted in exhaustion as his qi, body, and soul were instantly depleted of most of their energy. His soul, in particular, took the brunt of the impact. Shadow Fate Investiture was a frightening ability that bore a frightening cost. Unlike Shadow Fate Redemption, it didn’t reclaim what the shadows once knew. Instead, it used shadows to weave a dream, then forced that dream into reality.
When the last of the objects materialized, Wang Jun pulled out an ornate curved black dagger and put it to Inquisitor Deng’s throat. The man opened his eyes with a start as the cold steel blade touched his bare skin. His eyes narrowed when he saw Wang Jun’s obscured shadowy figure beneath his black cloak. Then he straightened his back and composed himself.
“I see that I, like many others, have caught the attention of the Spectral Assassins,” Inquisitor Deng said stiffly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
Wang Jun, surprised by the man’s calmness, replied in a hoarse, ghostly voice. “If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead. Fortunately for you, it is not my will that matters, but that of the Shepherd.”
“Just get on with it,” Inquisitor Deng replied calmly. “Speak plainly. What is it that you want? Why has a powerful specter like you come to this city? Why have you appeared before me of all people? You know full well that, given my character, I’ll report you to my superiors.”
“Will you?” Wang Jun said. “Is honesty still so prized in the inquisition?”
“I have devoted my life to truth and virtue,” Inquisitor Deng said. “As many will attest to.”
“But the items before me say differently,” Wang Jun said, sweeping his hand out to the dozen objects before Inquisitor Deng. “Feel free to take a look. They are only copies.” He took away the dagger from Inquisitor Deng’s throat and allowed the man to cautiously reach out to one of the jades. The man frowned as he heard its contents.
“This is clearly false,” Inquisitor Deng said, pulling back his hand.
“Humor me,” Wang Jun said. The man, clearly outmatched by Wang Jun, reviewed them one at a time. His frown deepened with each viewing.
“What lies and trickery are these?” Inspector Deng asked after reviewing the last one. “How could these items possibly exist?”
“But exist they do,” Wang Jun said.
“These mean nothing,” Inspector Deng said. “I know that I and my family have done nothing wrong. Karma will prove me innocent. These so-called victims will prove me innocent.”
“Will they?” Wang Jun asked. “Are you so sure about that?”
Inquisitor Deng frowned. He looked at the items again, but this time, his eyes turned light gold. They flickered in many different directions—the same directions the black strings had gone before.
“Well done, well done indeed,” Inquisitor Deng said. “The Spirit Temple has certainly outdone itself. Forging karma? Well, that’s a first. And I suppose you’ll say they won’t believe me if I speak to the so-called witnesses and have them reverse their testimony.”
“Witness intimidation is a serious crime,” Wang Jun said. “Besides, think of your beautiful wife and healthy young children. We wouldn’t want anything untoward happening to them, would we?”
The bald man’s expression, which had undergone many changes in the past minute, suddenly turned angry. He lunged at Wang Jun, who held up his dagger and placed it to the man’s throat as manacles of shadow appeared around his wrists and bound him to the opposite wall.
“Just kill me and be done with it,” the man spat. “I loathe you and everything you stand for.”
“And your wife and children?” Wang Jun asked.
“Will understand,” Inquisitor Deng said. “It is a glory to die in service of the goddess.”
“I see,” Wang Jun said, taking his blade away. “That’s too bad. My request wasn’t even so onerous.”
“Don’t even bother,” Inquisitor Deng said. “I know your type. You’ll ask me to do something simple at first, but your demands will grow. I’ve locked up so many of you I have trouble keeping track.”
Wang Jun nodded, then placed a piece of paper in front of the man. “It’s your call. All I ask is that you do your job and stop ignoring the hidden truths other less innocent men have passed over. The
