CHAPTER 36: SPOILED SERVANTS

The courtyard was frozen in silence. Every servant, elder, and disciple stared at Wei Ji as if they had misheard him. His words hung in the air like thunder that refused to fade.

"So what?"

It was madness to say such a thing before a representative of the Sword Shandian Sect, one of the most powerful factions in the mortal realm. No one dared breathe. Then, slowly, whispers began to crawl through the crowd.

"Did he really just say that?"

"He said it. I heard him clearly."

"Is he insane? That’s the Sword Shandian Sect!"

"He’ll bring ruin to the family!"

"No, maybe he has someone behind him... no normal person would talk like that!"

The noise grew louder, blending into an anxious hum. Eyes darted between Wei Ji and the Sword Shandian Sect representative, a tall man in dark blue robes whose face twitched with disbelief. His eyes narrowed, filled with cold authority.

"What did you just say, Young Master Han?" the man asked. His voice carried a chill that made several servants drop to their knees.

Wei Ji stood calmly, unshaken. "I said, so what? What can you do?"

The courtyard erupted again with gasps. Even Han Cui, the patriarch, felt his stomach twist in horror. He quickly stepped forward, bowing slightly toward the sect representative. His hands trembled, his voice was hurried.

"Please, Elder Representative! My son is—he’s been... overly obsessed with his wife lately. His emotions are unstable. Please forgive his disrespect. He means no offense to the Sword Shandian Sect."

The representative’s cold eyes flickered toward him. "Are you saying your son has lost his mind, Patriarch Han?"

Han Cui’s heart skipped a beat. "No! No, of course not. He’s just—he’s been... protective. Yes, protective. Ever since he took that woman in, he’s changed. He no longer respects anyone who insults or threatens her. I assure you, it’s a personal matter, not one of disrespect to your sect."

But the sect representative didn’t budge. He looked around, his voice booming across the courtyard. "Protective, you say? Is this what passes for discipline in your Han Family? A son who dares raise his voice against a sect of the heavens? Tell me, Patriarch Han—are you sure your house wants to make this a war?"

The words sent a chill through everyone. Han Cui’s heart sank deeper. He turned toward his sons, his voice shaking.

"Zukong," he said. "Withdraw your request. Let this matter end here."

Han Zukong’s brows furrowed. "Father, you mean—"

"I mean drop the matter," Han Cui said firmly. "Release the head chef and his men. Let the situation die here."

The head chef, who was still kneeling in front of Wei Ji, lifted his face, drenched in sweat. His whole body trembled.

What? The Patriarch wanted to withdraw? That meant the conflict would no longer be hidden. If he was the cause of this chaos, the easiest way to end it... would be to remove him.

"P-Patriarch!" he cried, his voice breaking. "Please, have mercy! I didn’t mean to offend anyone! I’ll apologize! I’ll beg on my knees! Don’t let the young master punish me!"

Wei Ji stood silent, watching him. The crowd stared too, confused by what they saw. Han Cui was favoring his eldest son, not scolding him. In fact, the Patriarch’s tone sounded... fearful. Why was he afraid of his own son?

But Han Cui didn’t care what anyone thought. It was better to sacrifice one man than offend a whole sect. His voice came out weary but sharp. "You brought this upon yourself. Pray that your punishment will calm the anger you stirred."

The head chef collapsed, banging his head on the ground. "No! Please! Patriarch, I’ve served the Han Family for thirty years! I’ve cooked through winters and plagues! I’ve fed your sons since they were small! Please, don’t throw me away like this!"

Before anyone could speak, Han Zukong suddenly stepped forward, his eyes burning.

"Father!" he shouted. "So this is the Han Family now? We just throw away our people like trash?"

The crowd turned to him in shock. Zukong’s voice rose higher, filled with righteous anger.

"This man, Huo Shen, has been with us since I was a child! He served through famine and war! He kept this family alive when others would have fled! And now, because my older brother’s pride is hurt, you’re ready to punish him? For what? For a mistake? For a few words?"

The crowd began to murmur again.

"He’s right... that man has served here forever."

"To die just for words? Isn’t that too cruel?"

"The Han Family is becoming ruthless."

Zukong spread his arms wide, his voice echoing across the courtyard. "If this is how the Han Family treats those who serve it, then tell me—what about the rest of you? What happens when you make one mistake? Will you be cut down too? Will your blood be spilled to feed someone’s pride?"

His words hit deep. The servants looked at each other uneasily. Even some elders frowned. Han Cui’s jaw clenched tight.

Zukong stepped closer, his tone lower but filled with sharpness. "Is this what you call leadership, Father? Harming an old servant to calm your son’s temper? If that’s how we rule this house, then we deserve whatever fate comes next!"

The crowd murmured louder.

"The middle young master speaks the truth."

"Han Ji is too arrogant."

"They protect him because he’s the eldest, but this isn’t right."

"He insulted the Sword Shandian Sect, and still the Patriarch covers for him."

Han Cui could feel the tide turning. His authority wavered as whispers filled the air. But before anyone could speak again, Wei Ji raised his voice.

"The Han Family," he said calmly, "has always treated everyone fairly."

The courtyard fell silent again. Everyone turned toward him.

Wei Ji’s gaze swept across the servants, the disciples, and his brothers. His words came slow and steady. "But fairness does not mean foolishness. Some of you have forgotten your place. You’ve been fed, clothed, and protected so well that you think you can bare your fangs at your masters. You think kindness means weakness."

The servants shifted nervously.

He continued, his voice deepening. "When did it become right for a servant to insult his master’s wife? When did it become acceptable for one to raise his voice against the family that feeds him? Tell me—how many of you think you can treat the young master’s wife as a plaything? Threatening to rape her with the Han Family token in her hands? How many of you think you are untouchable?"

His words cut through the air like blades.

"You are not the masters," he said. "You live under the Han Family roof. Yet you dare to threaten, to abuse, to humiliate the eldest son’s wife in his own home. Is this how loyalty is shown now? Or are you all so spoiled that you have forgotten the order of this house?"

The courtyard was still again. Even Han Zukong’s lips tightened.

Wei Ji’s voice grew colder. "If the servants think they are above the masters, then the problem is not the servants. The problem is that the masters have been too soft."

Zukong’s face darkened, but after a long silence, he took a slow breath. "It was a mistake then," he said, forcing a calm tone. "Huo Shen made a mistake, and he admitted it. He apologized. It was never his intent to offend you or your wife. He didn’t recognize the token. Surely that deserves forgiveness, not death."

The head chef, Huo Shen, kowtowed again and again. "Yes! I didn’t recognize the token! It was my fault! I’ll take any punishment, but please, not death!"

Zukong nodded quickly, turning to Han Cui. "You see, Father? It’s a misunderstanding. Punish him, but let him live. Let this matter end without blood."

The crowd nodded in agreement. The tension seemed to ease slightly.

And then—

A faint sound came from behind Wei Ji.

It was soft at first, like the whisper of leaves in wind. Then, from the stone tiles, a thin green vine began to grow. Slowly, unnaturally, it twisted upward, coiling like a serpent. The vine thickened, pulsing faintly with light, until it sprouted a single bud.

Everyone watched, confused.

The bud began to bloom, its petals opening in a swirl of soft light. A sweet scent spread through the air. Huo Shen looked up, confused, just as the flower’s center glowed bright.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

In an instant, several thin, glimmering needles shot out from the heart of the flower—too fast for the eye to follow.

They pierced Huo Shen’s throat, chest, and forehead in perfect sequence. Blood sprayed across the tiles. The old man’s body jerked once, then fell forward with a dull thud.

The other two servants gasped, but before they could even scream—

Swish. Swish.

Two more needles flew out, striking each one clean through the heart.

Silence fell once again.

The flower behind Wei Ji slowly closed its petals, as if satisfied, and the vine sank back into the ground, leaving no trace.

Everyone stared, trembling.

No one dared to breathe.