CHAPTER 150: 150- SEALED PACT [1]

Coldwind City:

Fang Family Estate, Phoenix Soul Pavilion

The air in the Phoenix Soul Pavilion thrummed with restrained power as the Fang Elders filed in, their robes whispering against polished jade floors.

Some wore expressions of distinct irritation while others wore an expression of acceptance.

Glowing sigils on the high ceiling cast shifting light over their stern faces.

Elder Ra slumped into his seat with a theatrical groan, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"Ugh! I just paid for the spirit stones for my slot in the Eastern Ravine cave," he grumbled, voice tight with frustration.

"Didn’t even get to see my cave before the sudden call. Clan Head better reimburse me for this... disruption."

Elder Long, seated nearby, sniffed disdainfully.

His posture was rigid, chin held high. "Hmph. How ungrateful you are. Look at me," he retorted, smoothing his immaculate sleeve.

"I had paid for my hourly usage too. Yet when the Clan Head’s summons echoed, I departed instantly. No complaint. Duty before cultivation. The ideal cultivator the clan head desperately needs right now."

Before Elder Ra could form a spluttering reply, a sharp voice cut through from the back benches.

"Hey! You imbecile!" Elder Joshua leaned forward, his weathered face pinched.

"Who are you calling ungrateful? Don’t spin tales! You just finished your entire hour!And the time you exited just happened to be when the summons came. Convenient timing, Long!"

Elder Long didn’t flinch.

A smug, infuriatingly serene smile touched his lips. He waved a dismissive hand.

"Perception, dear Joshua, perception. The fact remains, the Clan Head called, and I answered. Promptly. Unlike some who whine about reimbursement." He cast a sidelong glance at Ra.

Murmurs began to rippled through the pavilion.

But the underlying tension was palpable.

Their bickering source of their collective envy and frustration was due to the new cultivation caves recently carved into the Eastern Ravine cliffs, and the Clan Head’s personal project.

Using methods the elders could only whisper about as ’black magic’, he had somehow summoned spirit wells within every caves.

These wells pulsed with pure, concentrated energy, offering temporary but immense boosts to focus and spiritual pressure – invaluable, especially for...

All eyes, sharp as daggers, burning with barely veiled desires, snapped toward one man.

Fang Chen.

He lounged in a prime seat near the head of the pavilion, the picture of unbothered authority.

That unshakable calm of his wasn’t just composure, it was provocation.

The faint curl of his lips said he knew exactly what power he held.

After all, he was the only living uncle of the current Clan Head... and the Fang Family’s newest Golden Core cultivator.

"What are you all gawking at? Show some respect, I’m going to be the new Grand Elder," Fang Chen announced, leaning back with deliberate nonchalance, as though the title sat on him like a perfectly tailored robe.

The smug curve of his lips said he believed this was his grand moment.

Yet the gleam in the elders’ eyes wasn’t for his posturing, it was for the golden core aura radiating from him in steady waves.

And his breakthrough was a living proof, a blazing declaration, that Qi Transformation was not their ceiling.

The path climbed higher, and if someone like he could ascend, so could they.

A sharp flick snapped him out of it.

"—Ow! Ow! Sister, stop!" he yelped, jerking to the side.

Jingyi stood there, fingers poised for another jab, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Her dark hair was slightly disheveled, stray strands escaping their pins, likely the aftermath of one of her "experiments."

A faint whiff of burnt herbs and singed fabric clung to her, the telltale perfume of an alchemist who treated explosions as part of the craft.

"Your nephew will be here soon, keep your voice down," Jingyi’s tone cut through the murmurs, sharp but measured.

Her gaze swept the pavilion, pinning each elder in place. "And you all should know... now is not exactly the time where we should be celebrating. The Tharz Kingdom breathes down our necks because of what my second nephew did. So every new shred of strength we gain matters to us right now."

"You’re right... Mother-in-law."

The new voice drifted from the front, smooth, feminine, and laced with a confidence that silenced the room.

"But you’re also very wrong."

Every head turned, searching for the speaker, the weight of her presence heavy enough to make the air feel just a touch colder.

When they saw her, the air itself seemed to still.

It wasn’t just one thing that struck them, it was everything.

The way she addressed Jingyi as mother-in-law along with the unflinching audacity in saying, "You’re right... and you’re also wrong."

And then, above all else, the crushing weight that spilled from her in the next breath.

A Nascent Soul Realm aura.

They had felt such power before, from Fang Yuan himself... but this?

This was no pale echo.

This was the same overwhelming presence, perhaps even broader and heavier.

"Wh–what do you mean?" Fang Jingyi stammered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

The woman’s gaze swept over the room, calm yet sharp enough to cut.

"First," she said evenly, "every ounce of strength we can muster counts. Which is why... Fang Yuan and I are married."

A ripple of stunned silence swept through the pavilion.

"You mean... you’re going to be married, right?" Fang Chen leaned forward, brows furrowed, his tone almost pleading for clarification.

Judging by the shifting, bewildered expressions of the other elders, they were all hoping the same.

But Lin Zhaoyue only shook her head, once, sharply, her eyes gleaming with a brightness that was far too intense to be mere joy.

"No, no, it is as I say," she breathed, and the smile curling her lips was sweet... yet just a touch too sharp at the edges.

"We’re married. Already. Because, as Mother-in-law so wisely said, every bit of strength counts."

She clasped her hands together, leaning forward as if to share some delicious secret, her voice lilting with a giddy, almost feverish delight.

"And since I became Fang Yuan’s wife today... that makes today a day worth celebrating, doesn’t it?"

The way she said wife clung to the air like the scent of blood on silk, beautiful, but unsettling.

And then, from the back, a calm, unhurried voice cut through the air.

"Fang Zhaoyue... as the new matriarch, that’s not how you should act or deliver important ness. Come and sit here with me."

It was Fang Yuan.

The name, Fang Zhaoyue rang in her ears like a divine bell. Sharing his family name?

Her breath caught, and a shiver of pure, unrestrained excitement rippled through her.

Her hands curled into trembling fists at her sides, as if she could barely contain the glee threatening to spill over.

The elders, meanwhile, felt the weight of his words in an entirely different way.

For the Clan Head to address her so... it was as good as a public acknowledgement, a tacit seal on everything this new woman had just declared.

The shock was so great that their earlier irritation, at being abruptly pulled from their cultivation evaporated without a trace.

Not a single one dared speak against it.

The hall was silent, save for the echo of that one, undeniable truth: the Clan Head had consented.