CHAPTER 115: 115-LIN HAO [1]

Fang Bong deliberately turned his back on Lian, a malicious grin spreading as he addressed Ruì, his voice booming for the whole street to hear: "Look, Little Elder, you and I—we’re lovers. Everyone knows it!"

He threw a venomous glance over his shoulder at Lian.

"Just like how you’re the secret whore warming Clan Head Fang Yuan’s bed! That’s the only reason he made you his direct disci—"

THUD!

The sound was sickening, a wet crunch of fist meeting soft tissue below the ribs.

Fang Bo’s vile words died in a gurgle as Fang Lian’s strike drove the air from his lungs like a punctured bellows.

He crumpled to his knees, then face-first into the muddy street, retching bile.

Fang Lian stood over him, a statue carved from obsidian. Not a flicker of emotion crossed her face.

Slowly, deliberately, she spat beside his cheek.

When she spoke, her voice wasn’t just cold, it carried the weight of a tomb sealing shut.

"You dare? Disrespect the Clan Head? Slander his honor? Is your head up in the clouds?"

Each question struck like a blade drawn across flesh.... measured, precise and lethal.

She leaned closer, her tone dropping into something low and merciless.

"Fang Bong, I suppose what I’m hearing... is your death wish."

The air crackled. The other Fang cultivators recoiled as if scalded.

Hands fluttered nervously, reaching out as if to pull Lian back or shield Bong, but stopping inches short of actually touching her.

"Lian, stop!"

"Elder Fang, please!"

"Bong, you idiot, shut up!"

Still no one moved in to help Bong. No one dared step within arm’s reach of Lian.

She was a live wire, radiating lethal intent, her gaze fixed on Bo’s shuddering form with terrifying focus, like a hawk deciding if the squirming mouse was worth the kill.

Fang Ruì, her face pale but her spine rigid, finally found her voice. It trembled only slightly.

"Enough."

She stepped forward, placing herself almost between Lian and the crumpled Bo, her eyes blazing not with timidity now, but with the hard-won authority of a champion.

Fang Ruì’s command hung in the frigid air like a drawn blade.

"Apologize now, Fang Bong. Or face clan discipline before the bandits get a chance. Fang Lian... stand down. Now."

Bong dragged himself upright, one arm clutched around his aching ribs. Mud streaked his robes where he had fallen.

When he raised his head, his eyes were twin pools of smothered rage. He dipped his chin, a fractional, jerky bow toward Ruì first. "My words were... disrespectful, Elder Fang."

The title scraped from his throat like gravel.

Then he turned to Fang Lian.

The shift was electric. Where his posture with Ruì had been rigid submission, his body now coiled like a viper about to strike.

He didn’t bow. Didn’t even incline his head.

His gaze locked onto Lian’s, and in that searing stare was a promise written in acid: This isn’t over.

"...And my slander," he hissed, the word thick with sarcasm, "was unbecoming of a Fang clansman."

His lips peeled back, not in a smile, but a baring of teeth. "I... regret... offending you, Disciple Fang Lian."

The apology was ash in his mouth.

Everyone could hear the lie.

Everyone saw the hatred burning behind his eyes, a silent oath of vengeance that hung heavier in the air than Ruì’s command.

Lian didn’t react.

Didn’t blink.

She merely held his gaze until he flinched first, the raw intensity of her stillness more crushing than any retort.

Bong looked away, wiping blood from his split lip with a trembling hand.

She then gave a single nod, then melted back to the edge of the group, silent once more.

The others avoided her gaze, the space around her widening again.

Respect, Ruì realized, sometimes needed fierce guardians.

She straightened her spine, the scroll steady in her grasp.

"As I was saying," she continued, voice calm and firm, cutting clean through the silence.

"The path to Ashe City is dangerous. Stay alert. Maintain formations at all times."

Her gaze swept over the group, sharp and assessing, pausing just a fraction longer on Fang Bong.

"We move as one. Understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, Elder Fang" followed, quieter this time, more precise.

Fang Lian gave a small nod while Fang Bong said nothing this time.

* * *

The Lin family caravan sprawled across Northgate’s wide plaza like a slumbering beast awakening.

Oxen lowered, harnesses jingled, and merchants called out sharp orders as crates were secured onto sturdy wagons emblazoned with the Lin family crest a snow-capped mountain peak.

At the head of this organized chaos stood a broad-shouldered man in practical, high-quality traveling robes.

His Qi pulsed steadily, marking him at the peak of Qi Condensation, formidable indeed for a merchant.

His sharp eyes swept over the approaching Fang cultivators, lingering briefly on Ruì’s distinctive Elder robes before settling on her face with a warm, practiced smile.

"Elder Fang Ruì, I presume?" he called out, stepping forward with a respectful clasped-hand salute.

"Lin Hao, head of this humble train. Welcome."

His gaze flickered over the group behind her, noting their youth but also the disciplined lines they instinctively formed.

His smile deepened, genuine appreciation replacing the initial assessment.

"I must admit, I don’t know how your esteemed Fang family got wind of us needing an escort of at least five Qi Condensation cultivators with such speed and precision," he said, his tone laced with genuine surprise and a touch of professional admiration.

"All I can say is your intelligence network is truly notable. Moreover," he added, his smile widening, "your clan’s willingness to provide such capable aid so promptly is deeply joyful."

Fang Ruì returned the salute with perfect Elder’s grace, her own smile polite and assured.

"Merchant Lin Hao, the Fang Clan is honored to assist," she replied, her voice carrying clearly over the plaza bustle.

She met his appreciative gaze squarely, projecting confidence. "My companions and I are more than ready to ensure your safe passage to Ashe City."

She paused, just for a heartbeat, a subtle shift in her expression, not doubt, but a flicker of thoughtful curiosity.

Her eyes held Hao’s for a moment longer.

"The Clan Head, Fang Yuan, was... particularly insistent on the composition and readiness required for this task."

She let the words hang, a carefully placed hint.

How did he know? The unspoken question lingered beneath her professional demeanor.

"He ensured we were briefed thoroughly on the potential hazards of Blackridge Pass."