Good and evil always reap their due, for the wheel of karma turns unfailingly.

Good and evil will always be repaid; karma comes full circle in the end.

Just as Ji Fanxing had expected, it wasn’t long before those who had once been oppressed by Liu Sandao began to step forward. Many people, holding their ID cards, posted videos under the trending hashtag #SayNoToViolence, which Ji Fanxing had initiated, and reported Liu Sandao by name.

“My name is XX. I am reporting under my real name that Liu Sandao and XXX conspired to defraud me. When I confronted them with evidence, they beat me and imprisoned me for three days…”

“My name is XXX. My father was beaten so badly by these people that he is still bedridden at home…”

“My daughter said at the beginning of the year that she worked at an establishment owned by Liu Sandao, but she hasn’t been seen since…”

Those who had been suffering in silence finally found an outlet for their pent-up grievances and rage. The victims poured out their accusations against Liu Sandao, hoping that justice would be served this time.

On every platform—Weibo, Douyin, Tieba—posts about the incident sprang up like mushrooms after the rain. Even the onlookers, who had originally just wanted to watch the spectacle, began to change their stance.

“We can’t just be bystanders! This time, I’m taking a side!”

Even bloggers who usually only cared about food and travel shifted their focus.

“Today, I won’t talk about food or entertainment. Please allow me to use my influence to support what’s right.”

The “Jincheng Huayun Theater Incident” quickly shot to the top of the trending searches and became the focus of national attention. Many official media outlets turned the entire event into news bulletins. Even the central media reported on it.

Ji Fanxing sat quietly under the dim light, her eyes deep as a lake, reflecting the words on her screen. A faintly triumphant smile played on her lips as her fingers tapped lightly on the table, calculating the timing, pondering that it was about time for Jincheng’s authorities to step in.

She guessed that, given this momentum, not only Liu Sandao but even his protectors behind the scenes would soon be in trouble.

The wave of public opinion soared sky-high. Under the overwhelming outcry of the nation’s netizens, filled with outrage and righteous indignation, the authorities in Jincheng could no longer withstand the pressure and finally opened an investigation into Liu Sandao’s gang.

“Director Zhang… what should we do now?”

Inside the Jincheng police bureau, Director Zhang stood facing the window, cigarette in hand, cursing under his breath before responding to his subordinate’s inquiry.

“The public outcry is too strong now. Bring him in and put on a show.”

He was deeply entangled with Liu Sandao, and until their connection was completely severed, he still had to shield the fool.

“What kind of show?” a voice drifted from behind. Zhang, annoyed, turned around.

“What kind of show, you—” he stopped abruptly.

At some point, a group of people had entered his office. The subordinate who had just spoken to him was already being restrained.

He recognized one of the newcomers: a provincial inspector.

“Zhang Du, I am formally notifying you that we are taking over the Liu Sandao case entirely. You have been reported multiple times for shielding Liu Sandao. We are now taking you in for investigation according to the law. Do you have any objections?”

Zhang Du’s mouth opened and closed, unable to find words, his shoulders slumped as if all the life had drained from him.

He knew it was over for him.

On the streets of Jincheng, police cars wailed through the neon-lit night.

Unaware of the storm Ji Fanxing had unleashed upon him, Liu Sandao was still in a luxurious club, forcibly embracing a newly arrived waitress.

“Boss! Bad news! The police are here!” Li Si burst in, panic-stricken.

“What’s the rush? The police come by all the time.”

“But—but this time it’s different! I saw SWAT outside!”

The SWAT officers outside had clearly come for Liu Sandao.

Hearing this, Liu Sandao let go of the girl beneath him, not even caring as she fled. He looked flustered for a moment, but quickly composed himself. He raised his glass, still clinging to hope. “Impossible. Zhang Du wouldn’t dare—”

Before he could finish, the shattering of glass echoed through the room.

The SWAT team stormed in and subdued the two men.

The cold steel of the handcuffs was all too real. Liu Sandao felt as if he had woken from a dream—was he really being arrested?

To demonstrate their resolve against organized crime, Jincheng authorities broadcast the entire arrest live.

The scene was rapidly uploaded online.

“#LiuSandaoArrestedLive” instantly became the new trending topic.

Netizens cheered.

“Ha! Let’s see you act tough now!”

“Justice may be late, but it always arrives!”

All across Jincheng, those who had suffered at Liu Sandao’s hands stared intently at the news headlines. Some had tears in their eyes. Some trembled with excitement. The shadows and fears that had weighed on their hearts for years seemed, in this moment, to be banished by sunlight.

“Mom! Look! That villain’s finally been arrested!” Xiaoming waved his tablet, running to his mother and shouting.

His mother put down her flour-dusted chopsticks and wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.

“Is it…is it true?” she asked, voice trembling as she took the tablet, watching the footage of Liu Sandao struggling as the SWAT officers led him away.

Just then, her phone rang.

It was a call from the provincial police.

“Hello, would you be willing to cooperate with our investigation into the Liu Sandao case?” came the solemn yet gentle inquiry from the other end.

“Of course I’m willing!” the mother answered firmly.

Inside the brightly lit Huayun Theater, Xu Yuelang rushed home that night and threw her arms around her father. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I had no idea something so serious was happening at home…”

“It’s all right. It’s all in the past now.” Xu Guosheng covertly wiped away his tears.

Moments earlier, he had received a call from the provincial Department of Cultural Heritage; the government was preparing funds to restore the damaged theater and would also repair the internal environment of Huayun Theater free of charge.

“All thanks to Ji Fanxing!” Xu Guosheng said to his daughter with a sigh.

Xu Yuelang suddenly remembered the girl she’d seen during the commercial shoot, unable to imagine that such a righteous and courageous person could be Ji Changming’s daughter.

“Thank you, Ji Fanxing,” she murmured in heartfelt gratitude.

With Liu Sandao in custody, Jincheng authorities attached great importance to the matter. Every day, they released updates on the investigation’s progress. Many “protective umbrellas” shielding Liu Sandao were uncovered, and a dark web that had gnawed at Jincheng for years was uprooted.

“The air seems especially fresh today.”

On Robin Island, Ji Fanxing pushed open her window. The orange-red dawn illuminated the sky, bathing everything in warm, bright light.

Liu Sandao had been brought to justice, and the crisis at Huayun Theater was over.

But without a core of culture to sustain it, even if the theater were protected and cherished, in a few years’ time—if there were no one left to perform or listen to opera—then it would be nothing but an empty shell.

Ji Fanxing pondered what else, beyond “Chi Ling,” could help revive Peking Opera in Longguo.

She thought of Li Yu, the cross-gender performer who had been slandered at the Huayun Theater in the beginning.

China also had a renowned Mr. Li, whose music blended tradition with modernity, offering unique insights and practices in combining opera and pop music. His songs brimmed with charm and were beloved by the public.

Perhaps this could be the key for young people in Longguo to fall in love with their national opera.

Just then, Ji Fanxing’s phone chimed.

To her surprise, it was Fang Zhijing, a master music producer in Longguo, who had tagged her on Weibo.