Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!-Chapter 77: Khai Sang

Divine Grade.

Yes. The reward was supposed to be Divine Grade!

Not Saint Grade!

Fang Yuan’s brow twitched slightly.

"What kind of scam are you running system. What is this?"

Still the system made no comments as it simply watched him rant, he made a mental note to review it later.

Maybe it had hidden conditions. Maybe he missed something.

"Hell, where I come from, saints go to heaven and eventually become divine, right? Or wait... is it divine first, then saint? Ugh. These ranking names make no damn sense."

His thoughts spiraled further:

"Saint-grade... what’s next? Pope-grade? Oracle-level? Can I get a ’Heavenly Bureaucrat’ tier?"

Yet before he could be burried in his thoughts the Gu family attacked.

Swords rang out as they surged forward in unison, flashing blades catching the dull light of the forest. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Twelve men. One target.

But Fang Yuan was already moving.

His body flowed like liquid shadow, slipping between blades and fists.

A sword slashed down from the left, he twisted.

Another jabbed for his chest, he stepped aside and let it slide past like mist.

One came at him with a roar, overhead strike blazing with Qi.

Crack!

Fang Yuan’s palm slammed into the man’s ribs, sending him flying back into a tree with a wet thud.

Another sword came swinging for his head.

It was fast and precise, one hit and it could actually kill.

But Fang Yuan ducked low in a blur of motion, letting the blade whistle just inches above his hair.

And then..

He pivoted.

His body twisted with the momentum, right leg chambered. .. .

Directly aiming in the groin.

A flawless, bone-crushing strike to the family jewels.

The cultivator didn’t scream.

He wheezed.

It was the kind of sound one made when life re-evaluated its worth in a single heartbeat.

His blade slipped from his fingers.

His knees buckled like bamboo in a storm.

And he collapsed forward, clutching himself with both hands as his pupils rolled back into his skull.

And Fang Yuan shouted,

"GOAL!"

With his shout what followed next was silence.

Everyone shared a unified and a horrified silence.

The remaining Gu cultivators didn’t charge.

They froze.

All eleven of them.

Their eyes widened.

And like synchronized dancers of pain, every man present subtly cupped his own groin.

A silent, instinctive gesture of universal male solidarity.

You didn’t need spiritual sense to feel it, just eyes and a soul.

Fang Yuan straightened with a slight wince of sympathy.

"Sorry, brother. But your ancestors won’t have descendants now."

He turned, cloak fluttering.

"Alright. Who’s next?"

Around him, the Gu family hesitated.

Several looked down at their swords, then back at Fang Yuan.

Is that how cultivators were supposed to fight?

What kind of men is this, that’s dirty! Cheating.

Even Gu Zhen, fan still in hand, took half a step back.

Fang Yuan didn’t wait for a response.

He simply started walking, slowly, deliberately toward Gu Zhen.

Each step crunched softly against the mossy earth, but to Gu Zhen, it might as well have been the tolling of a funeral bell.

The fan in his hand trembled.

"Y-You... Don’t you know who I am?" Gu Zhen stammered, voice rising like a squeaky flute in a death march. "My father is Gu Jian! Clan head Gu Jian! A Nascent Soul powerhouse! He’ll kill you if you lay a finger on me!"

But Fang Yuan didn’t stop.

He didn’t blink.

He didn’t even respond.

Gu Zhen took a step back.

Then another.

The air grew thick, heavy with pressure, not spiritual, but psychological.

The kind that made even peak Golden Core cultivators instinctively sweat beneath their robes.

"G-Get him!" Gu Zhen shrieked.

The Gu cultivators surged forward, all except one.

The poor soul whose balls had been sent to the afterlife lay curled on the ground, moaning softly to himself, lost in a pain that only the grave could numb.

The rest, eleven in all rushed in.

Talismans blazed to life.

Swords glinted coldly.

Spiritual light exploded in bursts of fire, wind, and ice.

Fang Yuan exhaled, a long breath, eyes like still lakes.

Golden Shell Armor—First Form: Cowardice.

The shimmering dome of light bloomed instantly, golden and absolute.

Blades and spiritual attacks slammed into the barrier and were instantly repelled, bursting apart like waves hitting stone.

Fang Yuan stepped forward through the storm, casual, almost annoyed.

He reached out, palm glowing with golden essence.

Crack!

He backhanded one cultivator into a tree.

Bang!

Another was grabbed mid-leap and slammed into the ground so hard the swamp trembled.

Three tried to coordinate, attacking in tandem but they met a boot.

Spinning mid-air, Fang Yuan landed a brutal kick straight into one man’s gut, flipping him back into his allies like a bowling ball of human pain.

The rest faltered.

Eyes wide.

Breathing heavy.

The difference in realms, in pressure, in intent, it was now painfully obvious.

Fang Yuan dusted off his robes.

"You’re sending Golden Core fish to fight a Nascent Soul shark," he said, finally speaking, tone dry as bone.

Then he turned his gaze back to Gu Zhen, who had stumbled and fallen on his backside.

"I don’t care who your father is," Fang Yuan said, voice cool and low, each word a blade honed to silence.

"But if he wishes to avenge you, tell him to come to Sword Twin Mountain... and send a challenge to me, Sword Demon, Khai Sang."

The words dropped like a guillotine.

For a heartbeat, silence fell across the forest.

Then gasps echoed around, so udible as it was a collective one.

Even the birds seemed to go mute.

Weapons clattered to the forest floor.

Every single Gu cultivator froze. Their pupils dilated, breath caught, postures stiffened. Even the wind paused as if listening.

"S-S-Sword Demon?!" one of them stammered.

"Y-You’re that Khai Sang?! The one from the massacre at Ghost Cliff Pass?!"

"The one who soloed the Crimson flame Sect’s entire inner court?!"

Fang Yuan didn’t confirm or deny.

He just stood still.