After Chen Qinghe finished his explanation, a faintly awkward smile appeared on Mo Si’s face. He had gone over this phrase more than once, but the effects of Chen Tianquan’s previous misteachings still ran deep, like stubborn tea stains on porcelain—hard to scrub clean.
In the back of the hall, Chen Xingzhen’s expression remained solemn, though a trace of contemplation flickered in his eyes. Sensing the growing tension in the study hall, Chen Qinghe instinctively glanced toward his father. The moment he did, Chen Tianjing’s gaze locked onto him—sharp and layered with unspoken meaning. Whatever it meant, a beating seemed almost guaranteed.
“Good!” Chen Xingzhen suddenly broke the silence with a clap, smiling faintly. “Well said!” Behind him, many of the clan members began nodding in agreement. To them, the explanation made perfect sense—and now that the Clan Leader had endorsed it, who would dare say otherwise?
Mo Si’s expression stiffened slightly, a trace of helplessness surfacing in his eyes. But seeing the overwhelming approval from the clan, he chose not to press the matter. As the lesson ended, the crowd gradually dispersed.
Before they left, Chen Xingzhen took a moment to remind them, “These teachings hold real truth. Make time to attend more often—cultivation alone is not enough.”
Several days later, in the grand hall of the Shi Clan in Yong’an City, clan members had once again gathered.
“Clan Leader,” one of them reported, “we’ve confirmed it. That night at Chaotic Burial Mountain, there really was an unusual phenomenon. The location matches precisely. It didn’t last long, but it was distinct.”
“So it’s true?” someone asked. “That must be a battle technique above Earth Grade!”
“Given the manifestation of such a vision, it has to be at least a mid-tier Earth-grade technique!”
“Hmph. None of the other three great clans possess such a skill. That means it must belong to the Chen Clan.”
“Clan Leader,” another man stepped forward, eyes sharp, voice brimming with intent, “since we’ve confirmed the culprit, let me lead our forces to the Chen estate right now. We’ll wipe them out and avenge our fallen!”
Cold intent filled the room as one voice after another echoed support. Based on all intelligence, the other three clans had nothing of the sort in their possession—if they had, word would have spread by now. But the Chen Clan, though weakened, still had remnants of their ancestral strength. It was likely, nearly certain, that the technique came from them.
Yet what burned brighter than vengeance in the eyes of many was greed. An Earth-grade battle technique—its power could shake mountains, and more than that, it could form the foundation of a clan’s legacy. If the Shi Clan could claim it, their strength would soar, perhaps even surpass the potential gains from the Blood Rice.
They had already prepared to move on the Chen Clan for the rice alone. Now, with a rare battle technique in play, the temptation was too great to resist. If they succeeded, the spoils would be without equal.
More importantly, none of the other three great clans seemed to have caught wind of the situation. For once, they were ahead of the curve. If they acted swiftly, seized the technique, and crushed the Chen Clan, it wouldn’t even matter if they had to share a portion of the Blood Rice later.
At the head of the hall, Shi Hong’s expression was no longer composed. Greed stirred visibly in his eyes.
“Clan Leader,” someone interjected, voice cautious, “there’s word that the Zhou Clan has already selected a temporary clan leader. They’ve yet to issue any formal announcement, but wouldn’t an attack on the Chen Clan at this time be... a little ill-advised?”
Frowns deepened across the hall.
The Zhou Clan had never really intersected with the Shi Clan’s affairs before—they were simply not in the same league. But now, the situation demanded consideration.
Though they had discussed contingencies for dealing with the Zhou Clan after handling the Chen Clan, that was under the assumption there’d be no active leadership. With the Zhou Clan poised to announce their new head at any moment, the risks had changed.
If the Zhou Clan rejected their future terms and viewed their actions as provocation, things would quickly spiral beyond just a dispute over Blood Rice.
The heart of the matter was simple—the Shi Clan lacked sufficient leverage.
“What, are we supposed to let a single Zhou Clan elder stop us from taking revenge?” one of the men growled, indignant. “The Chen Clan struck first! Even the Zhou Clan should recognize reason!”
But no one replied. The silence that followed was thick.
Everyone in the room knew the truth—reason held no sway here. The Shi Clan had never been one for rules, and they certainly couldn’t expect stronger clans to treat the weak with any such courtesy.
Worse, they had no proof. And even if they found some, they’d never make it public. Revealing that the Chen Clan had an Earth-grade battle technique would only draw competition from all sides. If that happened, their edge would vanish.
“But if we don’t act now,” someone said, “what if the Chen Clan exposes the technique first? Then we’ll lose our window completely.”
“They won’t. Doing that would be suicide. There’s no benefit for them in outing themselves.”
And so the arguments continued, but no consensus emerged. They had to destroy the Chen Clan, ensure the Zhou Clan wouldn’t intervene, and keep the other three great clans out of it—all at once. It was a tangled knot.
“Clan Leader,” a voice rang out from the crowd, “I have a plan.”
Shi Pojing stepped forward, cupping his fists.
“Hmph. Another of your brilliant ideas?” someone sneered. “If not for your constant second-guessing last time, we wouldn’t have missed our best chance. We could’ve had that technique already!”
Shi Pojing scoffed. “So I was wrong to consider the clan’s safety? If you were so sure, why didn’t you speak up then, instead of pointing fingers now?”
“Enough!” Shi Chenghong’s voice cut through the bickering. He looked to Shi Pojing. “Let’s hear it.”
“Yes, Clan Leader,” Pojing said, then began.
“The link between the Zhou and Chen clans is the Blood Rice. Every three months, the Zhou Clan sends a Wind-Chasing Falcon to collect it.”
He paused. “Right now, the Chen Clan’s current crop still needs about a month to mature. Since we can’t get our hands on it, why don’t we destroy it outright? That way, the Chen Clan can’t have it either.”
“Wouldn’t that offend the Zhou Clan directly?” someone asked before the clan leader could respond.
Shi Pojing shook his head. “No. It wouldn’t be us offending them—it would be the Chen Clan. There are many ways to sabotage the rice without getting caught. Even if something happens, the Zhou Clan won’t blame anyone else. The Chen Clan is the one growing it. If the crop fails, it’s their responsibility.”
He stepped forward. “If this works, the Zhou Clan’s falcon will make a wasted trip—fine. But the real point is this: the relationship between the Zhou and Chen clans will be strained. That’s our true gain. And once the Zhou Clan withdraws in disappointment, we strike. No more interference.”