All of the disciples that were currently locked within them were silently watching them pass, none of them daring to make more than the sound of their breaths. The last rowdy fool that had done so had not been granted a kind response. Or so were the rumours.

They, from there had to climb through only a single long flight of stairs to reach the surface where though the air was fresh, and the sights of the interior of a properly constructed building were generally more comforting than those dark holding cells, none of their expressions eased.

"We’re done... we’re getting banished from the sect... we’ll be flayed before the disciples, used to set an example... heavens... oh heavens and ancestors..." Mo Chen’s muttering continued with his head hung low and the trail of his tears was left in their wake.

The enforcers took them down a different hallway, having turned right.

The disciplinary buildings halls were empty throughout the majority of nights, after all, they also served as the first line of security within the sect. Thus, they continued down the building, deeper into the elders trial chambers, without impediment.

Eventually, they came before two tall doors, rounded to their tops and carved through the wood of their faces in ornate designs.

Xue Jingde who had been leading their group stepped forwards to the door. The other two male enforcers both flanked the door, hugging themselves to the wall.

And there, as the doors groaned themselves open and the light of the trial chambers shone beyond its widening mouth, Mo Chen immediately stopped his mutterings.

A gust of pressure had burst through in that instant, freezing the three of them in their tracks, and only once Xue Jingde had taken his first half step into the chamber did it relent somewhat.

"Once you stand before the elders, understand that you are not permitted to speak unless demanded for a response." His tall back only continued walking in a few steps more until he moved himself off to the side, beside one of the opened door panels, his hand gesturing them in.

Meng Jue’s eyes had hesitantly glanced over to him only to find his expression indifferent, and his jaw clenched once more as he raised his arm—both bent upward and rose due to his cuffs—and he wiped away at the blood on his mouth.

Mo Chen did the same urgently, his hands shivering dragged the tears off of his face, and Xiao Bo did the same for his own blood.

At the same time, Meng Jue had taken the first step forwards, walking up to, and then beyond the threshold of the door. Then, the others hurried up after him.

Ahead of the four of them, a long and tall, crescent table stood. In the centre of this space, nestled within the pressures that each of the five figures seated high above them exuded, was a raised stage.

And that, had, unfortunately been their most damning reality come true.

There were only four elders in charge of the disciplinary hall and whenever the trials did occur, it was not necessary for all of them to be in attendance.

The presence of one was more than enough to represent the will of their collective.

However, such bare bone methods could not be taken in this instance, and Elder Han Tieliang, one of the two male elders, had silently been grateful earlier in the day.

Ouyang Qianye’s demand only for a kowtow and apology then, was a kindness that he had done for him, perhaps by virtue of the fairness that he had granted to his half-elf servant. As strange as it was.

After all, how could he have explained to the Grand Elder of the sect, Yan Huai, that Meng Jue had been justifiably killed for his scheme attempting an assassination on someone that remained to be considered a disciple of the sect and accused that person of profanity without his knowledge of the matter?

The man seated between the four of the elders, straight backed with a long white beard trailing down his robes, his long hair let to fall freely down his back, was glaring down at Meng Jue who had frozen in his steps at the sight of him. Xiao Bo and Mo Chen had even moved ahead of him, who stood with his eyes pried wide.

Then, his expression paled and his throat rose and fell, pleading to clear the sudden dryness within it. And his eyelids fell as his feet dragged him forwards, hardly able to display his feeble grimace.

Behind them, Xue Jingde closed the doors as he excused himself. And the three of them hardly paid any attention to the other enforcers that were still within the chamber.

The three of them walked up to stand before the elders, their backs struggling to appear straight and their gazes jittering in their attempts to maintain eye contact for longer than a few moments with whichever elder their attention was on.

"Inner disciples Meng Jue, Xiao Bo ad Mo Chen, you all stand before the collective authority of the sect itself, through this Disciplinary hall." Elder Han Tieliang’s voice demanded their attention, with Xiao Bo flinching a step back. "I have already briefed all the elders, and Grand Elder Yan Huai, of the incident you have caused, fabricating charges of profanity with a profane technique scroll of unknown origin, and orchestrating an assassination attempt against an individual who although crippled, remains a recognized disciple of this sect."

Mo Chen was trembling where he stood and the tears that he had despaired to wipe away seconds ago wet his face once more, and then the ground that they stood over, and his mouth, without the will of his mind, only driven by the pleas of his galloping heart, spilled:

"Elders, Grand Elder, please—please!—We beg for mercy! We—we were only acting in the best interests of the sect, upon reasonable suspicion! We did not mean to disgrace the sect or cause—"

"Silence! You dare muddy the name of the sect with your tear clogged lies?" The words cracked through the air like the crack of a whip.