Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!
Chapter 32: Banquet Ends.

Chapter 32: Banquet Ends.

Wu Shun turned, the corners of his mouth twitching as he debated whether Zhao Ming’s jab about "aggressive ones" was a subtle insult or a backhanded compliment.

He chose not to comment, opting instead for a quiet sip of his wine.

Though the sharp glint in his eye said he had remember it.

Just then, He Long shifted the conversation with a more cordial tone, glancing toward Matriarch Lin Xi.

"Matriarch Lin," he said lightly, "I heard your eldest daughter has taken an interest in artifact refinement lately. That’s a rare path among the younger generation. May I ask how far along is she now?"

The question was polite, even curious, but it also carried a subtle implication: combat cultivators usually earned more prestige at city tournaments.

Refiners, for all their value, did not win glory in arenas.

Lin Xi raised her brows slightly, lips curving into a smile that was both graceful and vaguely dangerous.

"Hoh?" she said. "I thought we were only counting combat capabilities tonight. Shall I go fetch her forge records instead of her cultivation ones?"

A chuckle rippled through the group.

Fang Yuan, still seated with a cup resting in one hand, allowed a small smile to form at the exchange. His eyes flicked between them, unreadable as ever.

Zhao Ming chuckled and nodded. "A fair response. Though talent in refinement is still talent and valuable to any family. It brings financial stability after all, one must learn to be productive in various ways and not be useless."

Wu Shun grunted, folding his arms. "As long as the kids aren’t useless, I don’t care if they grow herbs or refine swords."

Matriarch Lin Xi sipped delicately from her teacup. "She’s already capable of refining second-grade artifacts under supervision. If your boys are lucky, they might be using one of her blades when they clash."

He Long chuckled good-naturedly, but a hint of competitive heat glinted in his eyes. "Then I hope she starts mass production soon. We’ll need every edge we can get when the championship arrives."

Fang Yuan simply listened with an easy smile, not interrupting.

He could already see where this was going—one by one, each of them was subtly parading their clan’s brightest in the hopes of overshadowing the others.

None of them mentioned the Fang juniors, of course. There was no need. Their silence said it all.

He Long turned toward Fang Yuan then, his eyes twinkling with feigned courtesy.

"And what of the Fang juniors, Family Head Fang? Will any of them be participating this year?"

There was no mockery in his tone but also no real expectation.

Fang Yuan lifted his cup and took a slow sip, letting the pause stretch just long enough to make the other three lean forward ever so slightly in anticipation.

Then he set the cup down with a soft clink and said, "Perhaps. If they don’t embarrass themselves."

The honesty of it made Wu Shun snort, and even Lin Xi—silent until now—let out a soft breath of amusement.

Zhao Ming leaned in slightly, tone slightly more sincere. "Still, if any of them manage to surprise us, I imagine it’ll be quite the upset."

Fang Yuan offered a faint smile, eyes half-lidded. "It would be... entertaining, wouldn’t it?"

They all chuckled again, each one retreating politely behind their wine cups.

Matriarch Lin Xi finally spoke, voice calm as ever. "Talent matures differently for everyone. Some bloom early... others wait until the storm to take root."

She glanced sidelong at Fang Yuan, her meaning pointed.

And he nodded, raising his glass slightly. "I couldn’t agree more."

But the night was growing old, and even posturing had its limits.

As the moon reached its zenith and the final notes of the guqin faded into the breeze, the once-rowdy banquet gradually gave way to a calmer hush.

Servants moved deftly, clearing away plates and extinguishing lanterns as guests began to rise and bid their farewells.

Near the edge of the pavilion, Xie Lin approached Fang Yuan once more, her silver robes catching the starlight like woven frost.

"Family Head Fang," she said softly, lowering her head in parting, "When your younger brother returns... I hope I’ll be allowed to greet him properly this time."

Her words were calm and respectful but they stirred an unexpected reaction.

From a nearby seat, Fang Mei shot her a piercing glare, the kind a young girl might give a woman encroaching on territory she didn’t know she had claimed.

Her chopsticks trembled just slightly.

Fang Yuan caught the look and suppressed a smile.

He offered Xie Lin a warm nod. "You’re welcome here anytime, Miss Xie. Just send word ahead and I’ll make sure you’re received properly."

"Many thanks," she replied with a bow.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, vanishing into the shadows beyond the estate gate.

The night seemed to ripple faintly where she passed, as though her steps stirred the wind itself.

Fang Yuan watched until she disappeared, then turned his attention back to the departing guests.

He approached the gathered family heads; Zhao Ming, He Long, Wu Shun, and Lin Xi with a graceful bow.

"Tonight has been a chaotic time," he said plainly, "but I’m glad we could still share a meal. I hope Coldwind City continues to thrive... and that we’ll cross cups again under better skies."

Zhao Ming nodded tightly. "You’ve made your point, Fang Yuan. Loud and clear."

He Long gave a half-smile. "May the next time we meet be less... eventful."

Wu Shun said nothing, but grunted in agreement.

Matriarch Lin Xi offered a serene smile. "Your house stands tall tonight. Let’s see how well it weathers the seasons to come."

One by one, they departed into the night, each trailing their own thoughts and retinues behind them.

And at last, the Fang estate fell silent.

Only the wind remained, whispering softly over the blood-scrubbed stone.

Fang Yuan stood alone under the pale moon, watching the last of the lanterns dim.

Then he turned and summoned a servant. "Bring Elder Chen to my chambers."