The crystal settled into the slot with a soft click that seemed impossibly loud in the empty broadcasting station. For a moment nothing happened, the equipment remaining inert as if considering whether to accept what had been offered.

Then light erupted.

Boom.

Brilliant radiance exploded from the crystal, flooding the control room with intensity that forced Raze to shield his eyes. The glow spread through the equipment, racing along connections and pathways designed to carry information across vast distances.

The building trembled, a rippling shockwave spreading outward from the broadcasting array. The vibration traveled through stone and metal, propagating with increasing intensity as the system activated fully.

Hum.

The sound started low, barely audible, then grew steadily louder. It wasn't unpleasant exactly, more like reality itself was resonating with whatever force the crystal had unleashed.

Raze felt the vibration in his bones, in his teeth, in the core of his cultivation base. The sensation spread beyond physical into something metaphysical, as if the broadcast was touching more than just the material world.

Then the light shot skyward.

A beam of pure radiance punched through the station's roof, carving through stone and wood without damaging them. The column of light extended upward into the night sky, visible for miles in every direction.

Whoosh.

Three more beams erupted simultaneously across the capital, identical pillars of light rising from the north, east, and south broadcasting stations.

The four beams met high above the city, their light combining into a nexus point that blazed bright enough to turn night into day. Then the combined radiance spread outward in an expanding sphere, racing across the kingdom with speed that defied normal propagation.

Ripple.

The shockwave was gentle but undeniable, a pressure wave that passed through everything without causing harm. People across Westia felt it simultaneously, that subtle vibration that made them pause mid action and look around in confusion.

In villages hundreds of miles from the capital, farmers setting their evening routines felt the ripple pass through them. In coastal cities merchants closing their shops for the night stopped and stared at the sky as something shifted in the air.

In mountain monasteries cultivators deep in meditation opened their eyes simultaneously, sensing disturbance that transcended normal magical phenomena.

The entire kingdom had felt it, that single moment of synchronization that announced something significant was occurring.

Then the screens appeared.

Crack crack crack.

Reality itself seemed to tear open above every city, town, and village across Westia. Massive rectangular projections materialized in the night sky, hovering impossibly with no visible support.

The screens were huge, each one large enough to be visible from miles away. They glowed with steady light that illuminated the darkness below, turning night into twilight through sheer radiance.

People across the kingdom stopped what they were doing and stared upward. Conversations died mid sentence, tasks were abandoned, even arguments ceased as attention focused on the impossible sight above them.

In the capital's noble quarter, aristocrats attending evening gatherings emerged from their manors to stare at the screen dominating the sky. Servants and guards joined them, social hierarchy forgotten in the face of shared confusion.

In the merchant districts, shopkeepers and customers spilled into the streets, necks craned upward as they tried to understand what they were witnessing. Children pointed excitedly while their parents watched with growing concern.

In the slums, people who rarely looked up from their daily struggle for survival found themselves transfixed by the glowing projection that promised something worth their attention.

Then the image was resolved.

Helena Graves appeared on every screen simultaneously, her face familiar to anyone who followed current events. The journalist's expression was serious, professional, carrying weight that suggested what followed would be significant.

"Citizens of Westia," her recorded voice carried across the entire kingdom, magically amplified to be clearly audible regardless of distance. "What you're about to witness is the result of months of investigation into corruption that reaches the highest levels of our government and institutions."

The capital's streets filled rapidly as more people emerged from buildings, drawn by the broadcast that was impossible to ignore. Thousands of faces turned upward, expressions mixing curiosity with growing unease about what might be revealed.

"My name is Helena Graves, and I am the publisher of The Truth Ledger. The evidence you're about to see has been verified through extensive investigation and corroborated by multiple independent sources."

In Lord Venn's manor, the fat lord was sprawled across his throne when shouting erupted from outside. Guards and servants were crying out in alarm, their voices carrying through the halls with panic that finally penetrated his drug induced haze.

"What is that noise?" Venn slurred, struggling to focus on his surroundings.

One of his guards burst through the door, his face pale with terror. "My lord, there's something in the sky, a screen showing Helena Graves, she's talking about an investigation."

Venn's eyes widened, chemical fog burning away as implications crashed through his awareness. "No," he whispered, pushing himself upright with desperate urgency. "No no no, shut it down, send forces to destroy the broadcasting stations."

"It's too late, my lord," the guard said, his voice carrying defeat. "The broadcast is already active across the entire kingdom, there's nothing we can do to stop it now."

The screen in the sky showed Helena's face disappearing, replaced by another woman whose refined features and noble bearing were unmistakable to anyone who'd seen her before.

Lady Anastasia Venn appeared, her golden eyes steady as she began speaking.

"My name is Anastasia Venn, wife of Lord Venn. What I'm about to tell you is the truth about my husband's transformation from decent administrator into corrupt puppet of the Twilight Syndicate."

Across the capital, people who recognized her gasped. The Lord Regent's own wife, testifying against him in a public broadcast that reached the entire kingdom.

Her testimony was detailed and damning, describing five years of systematic corruption with precision that suggested she'd been documenting everything. She named dates, described meetings, detailed financial transactions that proved ongoing criminal enterprise.

In the Temple of Light, Pope Reginald watched through his window as the screen dominated the sky above the capital. His hands shook, not from withdrawal this time but from pure terror as he realized what was happening.

"Stop it," he screamed at the priests who'd rushed to his chambers. "Use divine authority to shut down that broadcast, tear those screens from the sky."

"We've tried, Your Holiness," one priest said, his voice small with fear. "Whatever magic powers those projections is beyond our ability to interfere with, they're drawing from the broadcasting network but the actual display method is something we've never encountered."

The Pope's legs gave out and he collapsed into his chair, watching helplessly as Lady Anastasia's testimony continued. Every word she spoke was another nail in the coffin he'd built through decades of corruption.

The screen shifted again, showing a middle aged man whose haunted expression spoke to terrible experiences endured.

"My name is Baelor Crawford, personal secretary to Lord Regent Venn. I have served in his household for seven years, the last five under coercion after the Syndicate murdered my family to ensure my cooperation."

His testimony was even more damning, insider perspective detailing current operations with precision that could only come from direct involvement. He named Syndicate associates, described distribution networks, outlined financial flows that connected Venn to organized crime spanning multiple kingdoms.

In taverns and gathering places across Westia, people watched in stunned silence as the secretary recounted horrors that made some viewers physically ill. The systematic nature of the corruption, the casual violence used to maintain control, the complete disregard for innocent lives.

The screen showed another face, this one belonging to a Temple nun whose golden eyes carried shadows of recent trauma.

"My name is Sister Elizabeth. I witnessed Pope Reginald's personal involvement in protecting Lord Venn's criminal operations in exchange for financial contributions to the Temple."

Her testimony about the Pope's chambers, the violence and threats, the explicit statements about Temple interests depending on Venn's continued operation, all of it played out for the entire kingdom to witness.

In noble households across the capital, aristocrats who'd supported the Pope through donations and political backing felt their blood run cold. If the Pope was compromised, if he'd been protecting criminals, then their association made them complicit.

Then Helena's voice returned as narrator.

"The investigation that uncovered this corruption was led by a team of four young cultivators who risked everything to expose the truth. The primary architect of this operation was Raze Dragonheart, whose strategic planning and personal sacrifice made this broadcast possible."

Raze's face appeared on the screen, his blue eyes steady as he provided context that connected individual testimonies into a comprehensive pattern. He spoke about the Syndicate's broader operations, the network spanning twelve kingdoms, the systematic corruption of officials across three continents.

His testimony was different from the others, more analytical and strategic. He didn't just describe what had happened but explained how the pieces fit together, why this mattered beyond individual crimes.

People across the kingdom listened with growing horror as the scope became clear. This wasn't isolated corruption, this was institutional rot that reached far beyond Westia's borders.

The broadcast continued for nearly an hour, witness after witness providing testimony that built a comprehensive case. Financial records appeared on screen, correspondence between Venn and known criminals, documentation proving every allegation made.

In the Syndicate's hidden headquarters beneath the capital, emergency meeting had been called the moment the broadcast began. Dozen masked figures sat around the table, their body language radiating panic despite attempts at professional composure.

"The entire kingdom knows," one said, stating the obvious. "Everything we've built here over decades, exposed in a single night."

"We evacuate immediately," another declared. "Burn everything, eliminate any evidence we can't take with us, disappear before royal forces mobilize."

"What about our people still in the field?" someone asked. "The distributors, the enforcers, the assets we've cultivated?"

"Abandoned," the apparent leader said with cold finality. "Anyone who can't reach extraction points within six hours is on their own, we're not risking the organization to save individuals who should have maintained better operational security."

They began coordinating withdrawal, decades of contingency planning activating as they prepared to flee the kingdom entirely. Money was transferred, safehouses were activated, escape routes were confirmed.

The Syndicate's Westian operations were being dismantled in real time, leadership abandoning the territory rather than face consequences of exposure.

Back in the western district, Kael pushed himself fully upright and stared at the screen above the capital. His analytical mind cataloged every detail of the broadcast, noting the professional production quality and comprehensive evidence presentation.

"We did it," he whispered, relief flooding through him despite his injuries. "Despite everything going wrong, despite the crystals being destroyed, we actually did it."

In the southern district, Oziel's eyes opened slowly. Pain lanced through his body, accumulated damage from fighting Bowman to mutual exhaustion. But the screen was visible above him, Helena's narration carrying across the destroyed street.

He watched his own involvement being described, how he'd protected the team during their escape from the Temple. His reputation as the Failed Knight would be reconsidered now, people would understand he'd been helping expose corruption rather than wallowing in disgrace.

"Worth it," he muttered, a slight smile crossing his battered face. "Worth every injury to see this happen."

Near him, Helena stirred despite her paralyzed arms. Her eyes could still see, could watch her own work playing out across the sky. Tears streamed down her face, not from pain but from pure professional satisfaction.

She'd published the story of her career, the exposé that would define her legacy. And she'd done it in a way that ensured it could never be suppressed or dismissed.

Further into the city, Aslan's silver eyes opened. His body was covered in blood, his transformation having receded completely. But the screen was visible even from his position, the broadcast reaching every corner of the kingdom.

"We did it," he said, his voice rough from exertion. "We actually pulled it off."

At the western broadcasting station, Raze watched the crystal pulsing with steady light as it transmitted everything they'd recorded. The equipment hummed around him, maintaining the broadcast despite the physical damage the building had sustained.

Helena's narration was reaching its conclusion, her professional tone never wavering despite the explosive nature of what she'd revealed.

"The evidence you've witnessed tonight represents the largest coordinated corruption scheme in Westia's modern history. It involves a Lord Regent, a Pope, and a criminal organization that has operated with impunity for decades."

The screen showed a montage of all the testimony combined, visual summary that reinforced the comprehensive nature of the investigation.

"But most importantly, it represents what can be accomplished when people refuse to accept that corruption is inevitable. This broadcast exists because four young cultivators chose to fight rather than surrender, chose to risk everything rather than let evil continue unchecked."

In the royal palace, King Harold watched the broadcast from his private chambers. His expression was unreadable, features carefully neutral despite the explosions of information being revealed about his own government.

His advisors stood nearby, waiting for instructions about how to respond. But the king remained silent, watching every moment of testimony with intensity that suggested he was cataloging everything for later action.

When the broadcast finally reached its conclusion, Helena's face reappeared one final time.

"The individuals responsible for these crimes are known. The evidence is comprehensive and verified. Justice delayed is justice denied, and Westia has delayed long enough."

The king stood abruptly, his decision apparently made. He turned to his advisors with an expression that promised swift action.

"Issue immediate arrest warrants for Lord Regent Venn, Pope Reginald, and every individual named in that broadcast as Syndicate associates. Mobilize the royal guard and coordinate with city watch to secure all suspects before they can flee."

"Your Majesty," one advisor began cautiously. "Arresting the Pope will create diplomatic complications with the Temple."

"The Pope is a drug addicted criminal who used his position to protect organized crime," the king said coldly. "The Temple can elect new leadership that actually serves the gods rather than personal greed. Issue the warrants immediately."

The advisors scrambled to comply, runners departing to carry orders throughout the palace and beyond. Within minutes the capital's military forces were mobilizing, coordinating sweeps designed to capture everyone implicated before they could escape.

The broadcast was ending, Helena's face remaining visible as final words carried across the kingdom.

"Truth delayed is truth denied, but tonight the truth has been revealed. What comes next depends on whether we demand justice or accept that power places people above consequence. Choose wisely, citizens of Westia."

The screen began to flicker, image degrading as the crystal's power depleted. The broadcast had been designed to play once, pouring everything into single comprehensive revelation rather than sustained transmission.

Glitch glitch glitch.

The massive projections across the kingdom started fragmenting, pieces of the display breaking apart as the magic sustaining them reached its limit.

In the western district, consciousness was already returning to Mariabel, her eyes opening slowly. Kael was pushing himself fully upright in the eastern district. Aslan was standing despite his injuries. Oziel was sitting up near Helena's paralyzed form.

All of them were looking at the screens as they began their final glitching phase.

Mariabel's voice was weak but clear. "We did it."

Kael's analytical tone carried satisfaction despite his injuries. "We did it."

Aslan's rougher voice held genuine pride. "We did it."

Oziel's declaration was quiet but certain. "We did it."

Raze stood at the broadcasting station, watching the crystal pulse its final transmissions. His voice joined his companions in a unified declaration that carried across the destroyed district.

"We did it."

The screens exploded into fragments of light, dissolving completely as the broadcast concluded. But the damage was done, the truth revealed, the corruption exposed for the entire kingdom to witness.

Four young cultivators had challenged the powerful and won, not through superior strength but through determination that refused to accept that evil was inevitable.

They'd done it.

And the kingdom would never be the same.

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