Rite of Challenge.

Just as the air grew thick with tension—

A fresh commotion erupted at the courtyard gates.

"Elder Guo!" a voice rang out, breathless and panicked. "We caught this girl sneaking into the Spirit Pond!"

A group of Fang Family guards rushed forward, dragging a limp figure between them.

Her robes were wet, her face pale, her hair clinging to her cheeks.

It was Fang Mei.

Elder Chen surged to his feet, his chair scraping harshly behind him.

That was his daughter, adopted or not, his blood or not, he had raised her with love, protected her like blood, and cherished her as his own.

His fury surged like a wave breaking loose.

"Fang Guo!" he roared, voice shaking the courtyard, thick with rage and raw emotion.

But Fang Guo paid him no mind.

His eyes locked instead onto Fang Yuan, gleaming with the hunger of opportunity.

"Did you," he said slowly, "or did you not give this girl permission to enter the Spirit Pond without consulting the family elders?"

The accusation hung heavy, like a dagger suspended in air.

Meanwhile, somewhere off to the side, Elder He Song, the elder from the He family who had attended Fang Yuan's 30th birthday, covered his mouth, failing to hide a snort.

"Karma," he whispered giddily to the elder beside him. "That's what he gets. Calling me old—hmph!"

He hadn't forgotten. Not even a little.

All eyes turned to Fang Yuan.

His expression didn't shift.

"As the Family Head of the Fang," he said calmly, "I reserve every right to grant access to who can use the Spirit Pond. Her presence there was under my authority and I don't see any reason on why you act as you did."

With a flick of his hand, spiritual force lifted Fang Mei from the guards' rough grasp.

She floated gently across the courtyard and landed in Fang Chen's waiting arms. He clutched her tightly, eyes wet with relief.

At least she had not been hurt.

But that was obvious.

For tonight, the opposition still needed to play the role of the righteous side.

Too much cruelty would shatter the illusion.

But just as the situation began to settle, Fang Wei's voice joined the fray—syrupy smooth and drenched in mock concern.

"Oh, Cousin Yuan…" Fang Wei stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. "And this is exactly why you cannot lead. You're swayed by emotion. You defend children in the middle of a power dispute. Leave politics to the elders and you go play lovemaking elsewhere."

He chuckled softly. "She's too young for you, isn't she? Leave her to your younger brother instead. He's… untalented, true, but I'm sure he'd appreciate the gesture."

Laughter exploded from the elders behind him—sharp, theatrical, mocking.

And then, as if insult could pile upon insult, Elder Fang Guo added with a wheezing laugh, "That foolish brother of his challenged the direct disciple of the Divine Ice Sect Master! A duel in three years, wasn't it?"

He held his stomach. "Absurd!"

More laughter. More smirks. The scene had turned into a mockery.

Fang Yuan didn't lose his composure.

His gaze was steady as he looked directly at Fang Wei, voice calm but cold as steel.

"Uncle," he said, each word deliberate, "do you dare? Do you dare say what gives you the right to challenge my authority as the Head of the Fang Family?"

But instead of answering, Fang Wei responded with a smooth question of his own—measured and designed to redirect.

"My dear cousin," he said with a thin smile, "what are your intentions for the Spirit Pond? Will you guard it… or do you intend to let the wolves come and take a sip?"

Fang Yuan's eyes narrowed.

So that's the game.

A trap—carefully baited and set in public, before the other clan heads, the elders, and even the Crown Prince.

But Fang Yuan wasn't afraid, he believed he has what it takes to come out on top.

In fact, he even smiled.

He stepped forward and spoke, his voice ringing clear through the tension-stricken air like a judge's gavel.

"That Spirit Pond was unearthed by my brother," he declared. "It is the property of the Fang Family—and the Fang Family alone. It will not be shared… and it will never be fed to wolves."

His words cracked through the courtyard like thunder.

But that was exactly what Fang Wei had been waiting for.

He threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich and triumphant, the performance of a man who'd just seen his opponent walk willingly into the trap.

Then he turned, not to Fang Yuan but to the Crown Prince, and the four seated family heads.

"Did you all hear that?" he said, voice ringing with righteous fire. "He refuses to share even a portion. No honor to the Empire. No alliance with the rest of us. He will hoard it like a dragon with no thought for balance or peace."

He raised a hand dramatically.

"If I am made Head of the Fang Family, I will act justly. The Spirit Pond will be divided—half to the Imperial Family as tribute, and the remaining half divided equally among our five clans."

Then, Fang Wei straightened his back and, in a show of solemnity, turned toward the Crown Prince.

He bowed low with both hands clasped in front of him.

"I request permission to hold a Rite of Challenge," he said formally, his voice echoing through the courtyard.

"Between myself and my brother's first son—Fang Yuan. He is… stubborn. And, I fear, unfit to lead this family."

He lifted his gaze, eyes shining with practiced humility. "I ask His Highness to bear witness."

A silence fell.

Then a soft chuckle broke it.

It came from the Crown Prince.

Lukas von Avetide turned to the man seated beside him, his expression light, almost playful.

"What do you think, Teacher Ian?" he asked, voice laced with mock curiosity.

It was a trap in itself.

Everyone present knew it wasn't truly a question—it was an escape hatch. If anything went wrong, the blame could be pinned on the one offering counsel.

Teacher Ian, long-resigned to the intricacies of imperial theater, gave a faint sigh and nodded slowly.

"It's a good opportunity, Your Highness," he said evenly. "A proper rite—witnessed by nobles, blessed by tradition. And perhaps…" he glanced at the two Fang men across the courtyard, "…we'll be treated to a good fight."

He paused, then added casually, "Since Family Head Fang won't be using his seat, perhaps Your Highness might consider taking it in his place? It would be… fitting, would it not?"

The air grew tenser.

But Fang Yuan only smiled.

A cold, slow, wolfish smile.

So now… they bare their fangs.

But Lukas, ever the actor in the robes of nobility, kept his role well-played.

"Oh no, Teacher Ian," he said lightly, with an expression of innocent concern. "That would be far too disrespectful to Family Head Fang. We should sit… where they've prepared for us."

His tone was light, his words soft.

But every sentence was a move on the board.

Teacher Ian nodded with the faintest sigh of approval—or perhaps weariness—and the two turned to take their seats.

The challenge had been issued.

The knife had been drawn.

And all that remained now… was to see who it would cut.