## Welcome to My Court> The federal court is broadcasting the trial of traitor Tan Jiao live; millions of viewers await the fall of a former genius. > When the judge reads "crime of betraying humanity," I touch the metal floor beneath me and laugh. > The entire courtroom suddenly comes alive; liquid metal surges like mercury, and all weapons turn their muzzles to aim at the judge's bench. > The suspended federal emblem melts into a golden-red scepter and falls into my palm. > "Wrong," I look down at the kneeling judges, "this is the court that is trying you." --- During prime time on the Federal Star Network, news streams wash over billions of terminals on time. The male announcer's face floats in the center of the virtual screen, his cold outline defined by the data stream. "Special announcement," he began, his voice clear and articulate in a standard Federal accent, each syllable like a precisely calibrated alloy bearing, "The public trial of SSS-class criminal Tan Jiao will take place at 8:00 AM today at the Central Star District Federal High Court. The entire trial will be broadcast live in hyperdimensional reality on the StarNet main channel. All citizens, please…" His voice, with its meticulous rhythm like a precision instrument, suddenly paused with an extremely subtle pause. It wasn't the static of signal interference, but more like the momentary slippage of some internal gear. Immediately afterward, a strange, almost gentle warmth quietly seeped into his previously cold, space-metal-like broadcasting voice. "…Please, all citizens, witness…the final verdict of justice." The last few words rose slightly in pitch, the last syllable lingering 0.3 seconds longer than the standard template, carrying an indescribable, inappropriate tenderness, as if reciting a private term of endearment. This subtle ripple went almost unnoticed in the massive flow of information on the StarNet. Billions of eyes were already fixed on that name—Tan Jiao. Once a "Star Ring Miracle," the Federation's youngest chief energy architect, now reduced to the most infamous traitor deep within the starship graveyard. Anticipation, schadenfreude, and pure, bloodthirsty curiosity converged into a silent torrent, surging towards the entrance to the impending trial broadcast. The enormous courtroom resembled a metal planet with its core hollowed out. The towering dome, composed of flowing liquid silver, slowly shifted through cold nebula patterns, casting an unnatural light that stained everything below—the tiered, circular gallery cast from dark alloy, the standing silver-armored bailiffs, the energy suppression field generators scattered throughout—with a layer of inorganic, pale white. The air was thick with the faint hum of ozone and the characteristic high-pressure energy field; cold and dry, each breath felt like inhaling fine metallic dust. I, Tan Jiao, stood at the absolute center of this massive, cold construct. The latest model of "neuronal suppression rings" bound my wrists and ankles. A dark gray metal ring clung tightly to my skin, its interior riddled with countless nanoscale probes, invisible to the naked eye, already piercing my nerve endings. They greedily sucked up bioelectrical signals, tearing any attempt to solidify my mental energy field into harmless neural noise, while simultaneously infusing my central nervous system with a heavy numbness and dull pain. This pain wasn't sharp, but like the pressure of deep water, it squeezed my consciousness from all sides, attempting to flatten and crush my soul. Above the circular audience seats, a massive holographic projection floated. My image was magnified, occupying the entire space. Every subtle expression, every instinctive twitch caused by the forced current from the suppression ring, was captured, magnified, and mercilessly projected by those cold lights. I could feel those billions of gazes from beyond the StarNet, like invisible rays, piercing the force field, burning my skin. They weren't gazes, but billions of invisible probes, trying to penetrate appearances and excavate the "truth" deep within the traitor's soul. "Defendant Tan Jiao," a voice devoid of emotion descended from the high platform directly in front, like the first strike of a gavel on its pedestal. The presiding judge's face was hidden behind the deep shadow of his wide robes and the blurred light of his holographic mask, revealing only the cold, hard outline of his jawline, a symbol of absolute authority. He hovered at the highest point of the bench, looking down at me like a lifeless metal deity. "Based on the 3,721 charges brought by the Federal Supreme Prosecutor's Office, and the final behavioral logic chain analysis report issued by the 'Deep Blue Matrix' core system…" The judge's voice echoed in the empty metallic space, each word like a cold iron nail precisely driven into the air by an invisible hammer, "…This court has confirmed that the chain of evidence is complete and the logic is self-consistent. Now, regarding the core charge of treason, the final finding will be read." Below the bench, in the circular prosecution seats, the prosecutors, representing the will of the Federation, stood upright, their faces a mixture of impending victory tension and a barely perceptible weariness. On the other side of the defense table, my lawyer—a forcibly appointed public defender—was pale, his fingers nervously twisting the edge of the screen in front of him, displaying the entire draft of the defense statement, already deemed invalid by the "Deep Blue Matrix." In the gallery, faces blurred in shadow and uniforms held complex expressions—indifference, scrutiny, and undisguised hatred. In the center of the massive dome, the shifting silver nebula pattern suddenly solidified, then decomposed, reformed, and coalesced into a line of cold, enormous, and judgment-laden federal standard text: [Treason (Core Charge)—Found Guilty]. Below the text, my holographic image was instantly branded with a massive, blood-red "X." A low, uncontrollable murmur erupted from the gallery, like a mixture of suppressed sighs and satisfied exhales. The prosecutors' shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. My defense lawyer abruptly closed his eyes, as if pierced by that blood-red "X." The presiding judge's suspended body seemed to straighten slightly, his jawline, representing absolute power, tightening even more. He raised his hand, a virtual gavel made of pure energy hovering and rotating above his palm, radiating an undeniable aura of intimidation, ready to deliver the final, decisive blow. "Defendant Tan Jiao," the judge's voice rang out again, this time carrying a weight of finality in its metallic coldness, like inscribing the last epitaph on a tombstone, "You betrayed the trust and glory bestowed upon you by the Human Federation, betrayed the star field that nurtured you, betrayed the cornerstone of all human civilization..." His words, carrying a final, pronouncemental power, echoed in the cold, metallic space. At that moment, I moved. My fingers, heavy and numb from the suppression ring, moved downwards with extreme slowness. My fingertips didn't touch the air, but rather, with an almost reverent focus, gently pressed against the smooth, mirror-like dark alloy floor beneath my feet. Cold, hard, and deathly still—this was the only feedback it had given to all who touched it for millions of years. But the instant my fingertips touched it, a strange, subtle vibration, extremely faint, traveled up the nerve endings in my fingertips. It wasn't a physical vibration, but more like… a dormant pulse, awakened for a fleeting moment by this extremely slight movement in the unfathomable depths of the earth. This feeling was ephemeral, so faint that it was almost drowned out by the neural noise from the inhibition ring. Yet, it had truly existed. Like a pebble falling into a still, deep pool, the ripples spread weakly but stubbornly, triggering some forgotten switch. A faint, extremely cold arc silently bloomed at the corner of my mouth. "... Therefore, this court, pursuant to Article 1, Chapter 0 of the Federal Wartime Special Code…" The judge's pronouncement, like a cold torrent of iron, was about to reach its end, completing its final pour. My fingertips remained pressed against the cold ground. This time, it was no longer a passive touch. Deep within my consciousness, the dam that had been relentlessly suppressed by the repressive ring, repeatedly eroded by pain and numbness, suddenly burst open. The torrent of "perception," imprisoned, distorted, and forcibly forgotten, roared forth like billions of stardust breaking free of their cages! No longer a trickle, no longer fragments of pain! They converged into a vast, pure, and unstoppable torrent of will, originating from my fingertips, resolutely, violently, and without hesitation crashing into the silent metallic ground beneath my feet! Boom—!!! A silent explosion resounded deep within my soul, instantly drowning out all the pronouncements, all the whispers, all the humming of energy fields within the courtroom! Beneath my fingertips, the cold, hard, lifeless dark alloy floor came alive. As if imbued with the most primal life force, it trembled violently! It wasn't an earthquake-like shaking, but rather the convulsion of some behemoth, suddenly awakened from its slumber, erupting from its core with a mixture of shock, rage, and ecstasy! *Whoosh—!* This tremor wasn't a physical vibration, but rather a high-frequency energy pulse that instantly swept across the entire courtroom space! In the circular gallery, all the floating virtual screens suddenly burst into blinding static before going completely out. The slowly flowing silver nebula pattern on the dome abruptly solidified and shattered, turning into countless chaotic specks of light that drifted down. The energy suppression field generators maintaining order emitted a sharp, strained wail, the force field ripples violently distorting and flickering. "What's going on?!" "System overload?!" "Protect the judge!" Screams and sirens blared almost simultaneously! The silver-armored bailiff instinctively raised his arm, the miniature pulse gun embedded in his gauntlet instantly popping out, a beam of pale blue energy condensing at the muzzle. However, it was all too late. "Sizzle—!!!" The ear-piercing sound of metal tearing drowned out all the noise. The floor beneath my feet was no longer a solid plane! Like solid mercury thrown into a furnace, it instantly lost all its rigid structure! The dull alloy color faded in a fraction of a second, transforming into a boiling, shimmering, silvery ocean! This liquid "sea" was not chaotic. With my footing as its absolute core, it transformed into billions of mercury serpents, surging and rushing along the ground with a speed that defied the laws of physics and a breathtaking elegance! Ignoring gravity, they spiraled up the massive pillars, coiled around the towering base of the judge's bench, instantly covering the platform where the bailiffs stood, even seeping into the core through the gaps in the energy suppression field generator's casing! Time seemed to slow down. A bailiff stared in horror at the pulse gun that had just lit up on his arm armor. Before the eerie blue light condensed at the muzzle could even fire, a stream of liquid silver had already coiled around him like a living thing, its cold, slippery touch instantly penetrating the gaps in his armor! Where the molten metal flowed, the intricate weapon components groaned under the strain, the muzzle flashes dimming like extinguished candles. And it wasn't just the weapons! The sturdy alloy platform beneath his feet softened and flowed instantly, gently but fatally enveloping and swallowing his entire ankle, "welding" him firmly to the spot, unable to move. A cry of alarm caught in his throat, leaving only a desperate groan. On the judge's bench, the presiding judge, high above, could no longer maintain his levitated, authoritative posture. The levitation platform beneath his feet emitted a series of exploding sparks, malfunctioning completely. The judge stumbled onto the cold metal floor, his wide robes instantly soaked and entangled by the spreading sea of molten silver. The holographic mask representing supreme power flickered violently a few times, then snapped shut, finally revealing a face filled with horror and disbelief—the pale, emaciated face of a middle-aged man, worn from being away from the ground for so long. He tried to prop himself up, but more liquid silver, like living vines, meandered up his arms and torso, pressing him back to the ground with an irresistible, gentle force, ultimately freezing him in a humiliating, half-kneeling position. The entire circular courtroom, all the positions that had once looked down upon me from above, were now cages of molten metal. The prosecutors, fixed in their seats by the flowing metal, were deathly pale. My defense attorney slumped in his chair, staring blankly at this surreal, hellish scene. In the gallery, the blurred faces were now crystal clear, filled only with pure, frozen fear. The symbol of federal authority, the massive eagle emblem of the nation, suspended in the center of the dome, cast from high-strength shape-memory alloy, now groaned in agony. Its material structure collapsed and liquefied under the influence of an invisible force. The enormous metal eagle, like a wax figure under the blazing sun, rapidly blurred and crumbled in the intense heat. The alloy, gleaming with a cold luster, transformed into a viscous, scalding, golden-red molten flow, as if kneaded and shaped from the void by an invisible giant hand. It tumbled, stretched, and condensed in the air, the molten metal dripping down, creating tiny ripples on the boiling liquid silver sea below. Finally, the flow solidified. A scepter. It hovered beneath the dome, at the absolute center of the courtroom. Nearly two meters long, its entire body flowed with a molten, golden-red luster. The scepter was not smooth, but covered with countless extremely fine, constantly flickering silver-blue energy circuits, like veins flowing with galaxies. At its tip, there was not a traditional gem or emblem, but a highly condensed, constantly pulsating energy vortex. At the center of the vortex, a point of incandescent white light burned like a miniature star, radiating a chilling majesty and power. The scepter fell silently. Not a fall, but a return. It landed precisely, as if it had always belonged there, in my outstretched palm. My fingers closed. The cold touch of metal? No. It was power. It was control. It was the extension of will. The surging torrent of energy within the staff instantly connected with my spirit, as if it had found its only channel. The blazing white staff head shone brightly, illuminating the entire courtroom, covered in a sea of liquid silver, like the core of a furnace! Beneath my feet, the sea of liquid silver undulated gently, as if paying homage to the sole sovereign. I gripped the staff, my gaze slowly sweeping across this domain reshaped by my will. Sweeping over the faces fixed in their seats, slumped in their chairs, frozen in terror. Finally, it landed on the former presiding judge, kneeling on the ruins of the judge's bench, his face deathly pale. His lips moved, as if trying to maintain his last vestige of dignity, to question, to roar, but only gurgled sounds came from his throat, like a poultry being strangled. My voice rang out. Not loud, not angry, not even deliberately emphasized. Just calmly stating a fact that had been forcibly distorted, but had now finally returned to its rightful place. Every word echoed clearly in this deathly silent space made of liquid metal, amplified by the blazing white light at the top of the scepter, carrying a weight that pierced the soul, clearly imprinted on the deepest recesses of everyone's consciousness. "Wrong." The scepter paused gently. A perfect ripple spread across the boundless sea of liquid silver beneath my feet. Wherever the ripple passed, the cold metal structure of the courtroom hummed obediently. I lowered my head slightly, my gaze sweeping over the ruins beneath my feet where I had once been judged, over the faces contorted with fear, over the kneeling former judge, over this new realm reshaped by my will, flowing with liquid metal and starlight. The blazing white core at the top of the scepter swirled, like the cold eye of a star. "This is the court where you were judged."
After the female lead fakes her death, the male lead becomes corrupted and meticulously plans to bring her back to the past, taking every step with utmost care.
Everyone knew that the Xie family in Beijing had a madwoman eldest daughter who would crack a whip at any time, and everyone avoided her like the plague. Yet, there was always that one person who seemed determined to get close to her. Someone asked, "Miss Xie, I heard you're getting engaged to the Rong family heir?" Xie Zhenyue casually brushed a stray hair behind her ear: "You misheard. I have no plans to get engaged for the time being." Upon hearing this news, the feudal and old-fashioned man who forbade her to wear strapless dresses or miniskirts returned to the country overnight, his gaze inscrutable as he stroked the girl's red lips: "Xie Zhenyue, don't you want to get engaged to me?"
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