Chapter 179: 179- Fang Clan Meeting [5]

Fang Chen’s fists clenched at his sides as he continued. "In your absence, the Wu Clan didn’t hesitate one bit and began to struck hard and fast, choosing markets and industries that weakened us the most.

At one point, they nearly overtook the entire entertainment sector within the city. Had they succeeded, we would have lost one of our most lucrative revenue streams."

His voice grew louder, tinged with relief and pride.

"But they failed, because Matriarch Fang personally intervened. They must not have expected her cultivation to be at the Nascent Soul Realm. Her appearance crushed their scheme, forcing them to retreat."

Lin Zhaoyue, seated beside Fang Yuan, lowered her lashes and allowed herself the faintest of smiles.

Fang Chen swallowed and finished, his tone sobering again.

"And after that defeat, the Wu Clan went into a complete silence and we slowly took back the market shares we lost. But silence does not really mean peace. Instead, we realised that they’ve taken to hidden strikes. Sabotage, arson, and ambushes on our caravans. They’re trying to slowly bleed us in the shadows and yet we can’t retaliate openly because we don’t have any solid evidence it’s them."

Fang Yuan’s fingers tapped once against the armrest of his seat, his eyes sweeping over the elders, weighing their silence, measuring their fear.

The hall, which had been buzzing, fell into a silence so deep one could hear the dust settling.

Then Fang Yuan spoke, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made it impossible to ignore.

"What if... there is a third party orchestrating all of this? What if someone desires nothing more than to see the Wu Clan and the Fang Clan tear each other apart? What if they were the reason behind all this attacks?"

The words hung in the air like a slow-acting poison, subtle yet potent, infecting the certainty that the elders clung to.

Every pair of eyes in the hall fixed on him, wide, alert, the usual ease of protocol replaced by the prickling awareness of danger.

Fang Chen, who had been so sure of the Wu Clan’s guilt, looked utterly confused. "Clan Head, I don’t suppose there exists a third party that would—"

"Silence!"

Lin Zhaoyue was on her feet in an instant, the command cracking through the hall like a whip.

Her earlier deference was gone, replaced by the sharp, calculating gleam of a strategist who had just seen the entire board shift. Fang Chen flinched back into his seat, chastised.

She didn’t even glance his way. Her gaze was distant, piecing together a puzzle only she could see.

"There’s this Merchant Association... or the Chamber of Commerce, whatever they’re calling themselves these days," she murmured, more to herself than to the room.

This time, Fang Yuan didn’t rebuke her for interrupting. He was captivated, his full attention on her.

He leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable but intensely focused. She was following a thread he had merely hinted at, and her speed was astonishing.

She seemed to pluck the answer from the air, her voice gaining certainty as she turned to address the stunned elders.

"It definitely has to be them. They are merchants, merchants make the most out of the misery of the people. Not only that, I’ve also come across a particular youth among their ranks who seemed to specialize exclusively in making and selling weaponry. He even offered a lucrative deal to me to take out the Wu Clan, which I at that time declined."

She paused, letting that detail sink in before she posed her next question, her tone turning pedagogical and sharp.

"So tell me, Elders, when are weapons most desired? When do their prices inflate like a bloated corpse?"

A beat of silence. Then, from his seat, Fang Chen muttered the dreadful answer to his own horror: "In times of conflict..."

He sank down, his face ashen, looking utterly mortified by the revelation. The simplicity of it was devastating.

They had been looking for a rival, not a profiteer.

Lin Zhaoyue turned her back on the agitated council and glided to Fang Yuan’s side. The fierce strategist melted away, replaced by a woman gazing at her husband with unveiled admiration.

"Ah, husband," she said, her voice softening into a whisper meant only for him, yet carrying in the silent hall.

"I knew you were different from the very second I was born. You instantly saw the trap we were all charging into. You could unravel a scheme meant to bleed us dry with but a single sentence."

She stood beside his throne, her eyes locked with his.

She didn’t dare look away, savoring the moment, the respect in his gaze, the proof of their synergy.

She was the blade, and he was the hand that guided it.

Among the elders, the revelation sparked a storm of muttered curses and shaken heads.

Elder Joshua slammed a fist softly into his palm. "I can’t believe it! We were being led by the nose!"

Elder Sun simply shook his head in weary disbelief, his aged shoulders slumping.

"The youngsters these days have minds too sharp by half. We old folks can’t keep up with these layers of deception."

The younger elders, Fang Mei, Fang Ruì, Fang Yang, and Fang Bo, remained silent throughout, the weight of the conspiracy rendering them thoughtful rather than vocal.

They observed while their minds racing to process the political labyrinth being unveiled.

Noting their solemnity, Elder Fang Ra spoke up, her tone deliberately breaking the tension, warm and maternal.

"You kids are also full-fledged elders now," she reminded them gently. "Your words carry as much weight as ours. Don’t be so hesitant. We need your eyes."

By her side, Elder Fang Long nodded, a gruff smile touching his lips. "Yes, indeed! Did you not see? Our entire clan was nearly outmaneuvered by a youth who sells swords. If we want to best them at this game, we need your fresh, sharp brains to do the thinking!"

The comment was so blunt, so disarmingly honest, that it cut through the remaining dread.

A few of the young elders like Fang yang and fang Ruì giggled, they sounded nervous at first, then slowly shifted to being genuine.