Clan System

Chapter-Sixteen: Clan System

Uncle Li hesitated, the piece of cake resting in his mouth as though it were laced with deadly poison. He couldn't bring himself to swallow it, every nerve in his body screaming at him to stop. 

Meanwhile, Ning Chen sat still in his chair, his eyes locked on Uncle Li with a calm but piercing coldness. There was no need for words—his unyielding gaze did all the talking.

Uncle Li could feel that gaze bearing down on him like a weight. It made his skin crawl, yet he didn't dare speak. He couldn't even bring himself to meet Ning Chen's eyes.

"Swallow it," Ning Chen ordered, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Uncle Li's heart jolted. Gritting his teeth, his throat moved involuntarily as he swallowed the pastry. It slid down slowly, uncomfortably, settling heavily in his stomach. His body tensed, bracing for what he feared would come next—a sharp, agonizing death.

But the moments passed, and nothing happened. There was no searing pain, no choking, no poison-induced convulsions. The taste lingered faintly on his tongue, and Uncle Li couldn't help but think—despite the circumstances—how delicate and delicious the cake had been.

As time ticked by, the tight knot of fear in his chest began to loosen. He felt fine. His heart, which had been pounding, began to settle into its natural rhythm.

Ning Chen frowned. Watching Uncle Li intently, he finally broke the silence. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Uncle Li stood straight, his voice trembling slightly. "Reporting to you, young master, this servant feels... nothing. No discomfort at all. It's as if it were an ordinary cake."

"Good," Ning Chen replied coolly, his expression unreadable. "Leave now. Report to me about your condition daily for the next three days."

"As you command, young master." Bowing deeply, Uncle Li backed out of the room and disappeared down the stairs.

Left alone, Ning Chen leaned back slightly in his chair, his mind spinning. 

*"Strange. If the pastries were poisoned, that would've been easy to understand. But they're not. So what is Gu Yue Haoyu trying to accomplish? What does she want?"*

He let out a low chuckle, though it carried no humor. "This Qing Mao Mountain really hides its secrets well. The waters here are deeper than they seem."

Two thoughts nagged at him. First, Qingshu's repeated attempts to establish ties with him—what was his angle? And second, Haoyu's sudden and peculiar display of affection. The timing of both was suspicious, almost as if they were connected.

Ning Chen's eyes darkened. *"It's likely tied to my parents. They left me their Primeval Stone inheritance, but their Gu worms inheritance is locked behind the second rank. Everything comes down to power. Strength is the root of all things."*

Shaking his head slightly, he rose from his chair and walked to the corner of his room. There sat a conspicuous safe—not hidden, but secured well enough that Ning Chen had no reason to worry about theft.

He crouched down, twisting the wheel to input the combination. The mechanism clicked, the gears aligned, and with a soft *snap,* the safe door opened.

Inside was a single Gu insect—a Fat Grass Gu—and nothing else. The insect, shaped like a small, yellow gourd, was designed to store Primeval Stones. If it were full, it could hold up to 20,000 Primeval Stones. Of course, Ning Chen's parents had never possessed such wealth.

He reached inside, carefully picking up the Fat Grass Gu and sending it into his void space. He could sense the stored energy inside, enough to refine the Gu and harness its contents.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he entered a state of meditation. The Fat Grass Gu, originally a level two insect, had weakened over time due to neglect, dropping to level one. Gu insects needed proper care and feeding; otherwise, they would deteriorate and eventually die. 

Ning Chen's spiritual consciousness dove deep. The emerald sea of his true energy surged to life, crashing in waves as it charged toward the Fat Grass Gu. Strangely, the Gu offered little resistance.

It was weak from starvation, its will barely present—far weaker than the Moonlight Gu Ning Chen had refined before.

With little effort, Ning Chen subdued and refined the Gu, his sheer willpower overcoming its feeble resistance. 

A slight smile touched his lips. With a single thought, he summoned the Fat Grass Gu into his hand. Peering inside, he saw the Primeval Stones stored within—hundreds of them, just as he had expected. 

*"Enough to sustain me until the second level,"* he mused.

Reflecting on his parents, he guessed that they had been no more than rank two Gu Masters in their lifetimes. The family rarely produced rank three elders, as only those with great strength and aptitude could rise to such heights.

At the very least, one needed a B-level qualification, though A-level was ideal, combined with years of diligent cultivation.

*"For all the advantages of being part of a family, there are just as many drawbacks. Resources are shared, but that same sharing limits individual growth. Most Gu Masters are cultivated to provide immediate combat power in family disputes. True greatness requires breaking free of those confines,"* Ning Chen thought.

The system of Clan had its pros and cons. But people like Ning Chen—or Fang Yuan—who lived steeped in the demonic path, with a deep-rooted demonic nature, were not ones to be constrained by the structure of a small, institutional family.

It was likely that Ning Chen's parents hadn't lacked the talent required to be family elders. Instead, they had most probably been held back by the very system they served. 

After all, could a regular second-level Gu Master truly be so completely forgotten? No cause of death, no records, no information at all? The sheer mystery surrounding them left Ning Chen with no answers.

His brow furrowed slightly. These questions lingered in his mind, unanswered. Perhaps, only after he inherited their Gu insect legacy would he begin to grasp the truth.

And yet, a small smile played at the corner of his lips. With their Primeval Stone inheritance now fully transferred into his hands, he had access to nearly three hundred Primeval Stones—a vast sum. It was far more than enough to propel him to the second level of cultivation.

---

"Uncle Li—look! Uncle Li's back!"

A voice rang out from the slaves' quarters, cutting through the stillness. Someone had spotted Uncle Li returning, safe and sound.

The shout drew everyone's attention, and before long, a crowd had gathered around him. Their faces were a mix of curiosity and astonishment.

"Uncle Li, did the young master go easy on you?"

"You're the only one who's come back after going to see him! What happened?"

"Tell us, Uncle Li, what's the story?"

The questions came rapid-fire, the crowd abuzz with chatter. But Uncle Li simply smiled, the weight on his shoulders finally seeming to lift.

"Actually, it was nothing at all," he said, waving a hand. "The young master just asked me to test the cake for poison. Turns out, the cake wasn't poisonous. I guess I got lucky!"

A collective sigh of relief swept through the group. The tension in the air melted away. They murmured their gratitude for the unexpected outcome—no poison, no tragedy. Another old friend spared.

Nearby, Ye Ling'er burst into tears, a smile breaking through her sobs. Turning to Ye Han, she said, "Did you see it, Brother Ye Han? Uncle Li is back—he's fine!"

Ye Han's gaze remained steady. "Hehe, yes," he replied softly. But his next words came edged with cold certainty: "But it might not be the case next time."

"Next time…" Ye Ling'er's words faltered. Her smile wavered. 

Ye Han's expression remained clear as ice. He understood all too well the reality of their situation. As long as he remained a slave in Ning Chen's household, he would never truly be free. The Sword of Damocles hung perpetually above his head, poised to fall at any moment.

The only way to escape? To cast off the title of a domestic slave entirely. Though still young, Ye Han had a keen understanding of the world—far sharper than most adults. He knew this truth with absolute clarity.

His gaze shifted briefly to the hunting bow beside him. It was a gift from Ye Ling'er during her last trip. The bow and arrows had become an extension of him. Over time, he had grown more adept with them, finding strength and solace in their presence.

"Go back, Sister Ling'er," he said firmly. "If anything happens with the young master, you must tell me immediately."

"Don't worry, Brother Ye Han," she replied, her voice steady but tinged with a quiet resolve.