Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!-Chapter 66: Wu Min [3]

Fang Tian stared hard, fists clenched behind his back.

Down on the arena floor, Fang Mei stood tall amid the fading echoes of her battle.

Her hair was tousled, her robes dusted with ash.

Internally, he whispered, You can do it, Fang Mei... You can do it.

A quiet scoff echoed in his mind.

"Look at you," came Qin Shi Huang’s voice from within the ring around his neck.

"Why don’t you just shout it out for her to hear, instead of whispering like she can read your mind the way I do?"

Fang Tian didn’t respond at first.

Then, "Master... I don’t suppose she’d lose this match, right?"

"No, she’ll definitely win," the ancient spirit murmured, voice unexpectedly serious. "From what I’ve noticed everytime you are with her, this Fang Mei is beyond impressive. Majestic, even. But there’s something that’s been holding her back."

Fang Tian’s brows furrowed slightly as he watched the fight unfold, Fang Mei’s every step clean and calculated, even as she clashed again with Wu Min.

Then Qin Shi Huang muttered something else, quieter, but heavier.

"Oh, right, yes, she appears to have the Thousand Poison Physique."

Fang Tian’s eyes widened.

"Thousand Poison Physique? What is that?"

"Mhm. It is a rare and difficult physique, honestly it’s rare to even find one in the mortal realm. This physique, if nurtured to completion, it can evolves into the Myriad Poison Physique, which can grant complete immunity to all types of poison and even the ability to refine toxins into energy. But as of right now..."

Fang Tian’s gaze remained on the battle as Fang Mei’s sword glowed as she launched another Tyrant Light Sword—First Form: Divine Line, the beam streaking across the stage like a bolt of righteous fury.

Wu Min barely dodged, the marble floor cracking beneath her retreat.

"Right now," Qin Shi Huang continued, his voice low and steady, "that latent physique is likely doing more harm than good. It’s absorbing her qi, restraining her potential... and I doubt she even knows the reason why."

Fang Tian’s gaze sharpened, the weight in his chest growing heavier with each word.

He lowered his eyes to the ring on his finger, the ancient artifact gleaming faintly under the sunlight, its warmth deceptive.

Just like what you’ve been doing to me... ever since I was young?

The spirit gave a short, amused chuckle. "Oh please. Take that up with your elder brother. He’s the one who placed the ring around your neck as a form of necklace during your fifth birthday. If he didn’t, you would have soared."

Something snapped in Fang Tian’s chest when he heard the full.

His grip tightened, knuckles whitening.

"Oh, so now it’s his fault?" he hissed under his breath, voice sharp with emotion.

"My parents died when he was barely an adult! That ring was the only thing they left behind! He gave it to me so I’d have something, so I’d always remember them, that they were still with me even in—"

He stopped.

But it was too late.

The words had already slipped past his lips, not as a thought, but aloud.

Silence fell.

Heavy and stretching.

Then, after a moment, a cautious voice broke through the stillness.

"Senior Brother... are you alright?" Fang Ruì asked, her tone careful, almost hesitant.

Fang Tian blinked, the heat behind his eyes vanishing beneath a practiced, easy smile.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, sorry. Just... a bad memory slipped out. Nothing serious."

At his side, Fang Bo and Fang Yang exchanged a glance but said nothing. The silence between them spoke volumes.

Inside, Fang Tian’s heart thudded.

Damn it...

He kept his gaze fixed on the stage, unwilling to say more to them.

You may be my master, he thought to the spirit, but I won’t allow even a whisper of blasphemy against my brother. He’s carried enough burdens for a dozen lifetimes.

The spirit in the ring fell quiet.

Whether in agreement, respect, or something else entirely... Fang Tian couldn’t tell.

And maybe he didn’t want to.

And then—

"Well," the old spirit spoke into his head, "once this fight is over, you should probably ask her out on a date."

Fang Tian blinked, deadpan.

"...Master."

"What? She’s strong, beautiful, and if you help her awaken that physique, she’ll be even stronger. That’s what I call marriage potential. Besides she loves you too."

Fang Tian sighed.

Back on stage, the tension snapped like a taut string.

Fang Mei’s blade shimmered as she raised it high, her voice clear and resonant across the arena.

"Tyrant Light Sword—Second Form: Star Form!"

With a powerful downward slash, four blazing arcs of radiant swordlight tore through the sky, spiraling, converging like heavenly meteors locked onto their target.

The very air shimmered beneath their descent.

Up in the viewing booth, the Fang family members jolted forward in their seats.

Their focus had shifted.

The murmurs faded.

No longer were they speaking of her realm, her physique, or who she might become.

All eyes now tracked the glowing lines streaking down from the heavens.

"Four lines," Fang Yang whispered.

"Not yet five... but enough," Fang Ruì added.

"It’s more than enough," Fang Bo murmured, voice tight with awe.

Those four radiant beams, drawn from the technique perfected by their clan head, now wielded with her own nuance and force rained down upon the prodigy of the Wu Clan.

Even Wu Min looked up, face bathed in the golden light.

For a moment, she didn’t dodge.

She didn’t block.

She simply... smiled.

"Tch... What a drag," she muttered under her breath, not in frustration, but in admiration.

Then, at the last moment, she moved.

Her stance deepened.

She crossed her arms in a guarded ’X’ in front of her chest, feet braced wide as she absorbed the brunt of the impact.

BOOM!

A blinding burst of force slammed into her like a divine hammer.

Her form was thrown into the air, trailing sparks and dust until she landed, skidding past the outer ring.

Out of bounds.

Silence.

Then—

The crowd erupted.

Cheers exploded like fireworks.

The Fang family side of the stands surged to their feet, roaring with pride.

Fang Bo, Fang Yang, and Fang Ruì leapt from their seats, fists clenched in elation.

Down in the corner of the arena stands, where the younger generation of the Fang clan gathered, the air was thick with celebration.

Boys and girls shouted Fang Mei’s name with tearful joy, voices hoarse and proud.

"YOUNG ELDER!"

"THAT’S OUR ELDER MEI!!"

Wu Min, lying just beyond the edge of the platform, sat up slowly.

Her robes were singed, her arms slightly trembling from the final clash.

But her smile remained.

She dusted herself off and rose to her feet with quiet grace.

Then, she turned toward Fang Mei, and gave a deep, warrior’s bow.

"Thanks," she said softly. "You were the better one today."

Fang Mei blinked in surprise, then returned the bow with equal respect.

A duel had ended.

But a rivalry—had just begun.

Meanwhile, back at the Fang Family Estate...

Deep within the serene chambers of the Phoenix Soul Pavilion, Fang Yuan sat behind a wide, immaculately carved desk, one hand flipping through scrolls, the other absently sipping spirit tea that had long gone cold.

He was surrounded by a mountain of documents, each stamped with crimson seals of varying urgency.

Untill his hand paused.

A scroll with a black wax seal caught his eye.

Fang Yuan cracked it open, and his casual smile stiffened slightly.

SIGHTING REPORT:

Location: Northern Region, bordering the Dark Forest.

Threat Level: High.

Suspected creature—Nascent Soul-Level Saberfang Tooth Monster.

Fang Yuan froze.

"...Saberfang...?" he murmured.

The image of a massive, fanged beast roared back into his mind, its jagged silhouette echoing from memory, from that cave, from that night.

He leaned back slowly, eyes narrowing.

"That’s the same type I fought back then..."

Then, almost to himself, he muttered, "Could there be another Hollow Yeklo Grass near it...?"

A beat of silence.

He turned his gaze toward the towering stack of scrolls on the desk, filled with clan logistics, cultivation assignments, and resource management.

Then he smiled. Slowly. Like a fox deciding on a second helping of chickens.

"I’m sure Uncle won’t mind handling another two or three months of paperwork..."

He giggled, oh yes, giggled as he rolled up the scroll and slipped it into his sleeve.

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