Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!

Boom!

Another thunderous strike; this one even fiercer, still aimed straight for Fang Yuan's head.

But the result… remained unchanged.

Fang Wei's fist slammed into the invisible barrier and stopped, as if hitting the sky itself.

Gasps erupted again.

Fang Wei stepped back, his breath ragged, his certainty shaken. He turned sharply toward Fang Guo.

And once more, Elder Guo stepped forward, face dark with suspicion.

"Fang Yuan," he said sternly, "it is forbidden to carry protective artifacts in a Rite of Challenge. Hand it over."

Fang Yuan's expression didn't flicker. He stood with his arms still behind his back and smiled.

"Check me."

Fang Guo faltered. He hadn't expected such a bold response.

Still, he pressed forward, unwilling to let Fang Yuan seize complete control of the moment.

"You definitely have a defensive artifact on you!" he snapped.

"Then check me," Fang Yuan repeated, his grin widening.

"Oh, I will," Fang Guo muttered. But as he stepped forward—

Fang Yuan's voice cut through the air, still calm, still smiling.

"But after Aunt Jingyi checks you first. Fair is fair."

Fang Guo froze mid-step.

A hush fell over the crowd.

His face twitched, and then he sneered. "Ahh… So that's your game. You do have something to hide. You're stalling. Hoping Elder Jingyi can distract me or interfere before I catch you red-handed. Clever."

Fang Yuan's laughter rang out—light, amused, but cold.

"Fang Guo," he said, eyes narrowing slightly, "if you wish for a swift death, I can guarantee you one."

The words weren't loud.

But the chill behind them silenced even the whispers.

And Fang Guo, of all people felt it directly down his spine.

He looked into Fang Yuan's eyes… and saw the promise behind those words.

It wasn't a threat nor fake words.

It was a fact.

A promise written in blood yet to be spilled.

Fang Yuan's smile returned. "I said: get checked before you check me. Is that so hard?"

Fang Guo's throat bobbed in a dry swallow.

Then, slowly, wordlessly, he turned and walked back to his seat.

Inside, he raged:

Fang Wei, you idiot! Make him move—even just a step! Even if it is only a freaking milimeter—make him move!

Meanwhile, Fang Yuan turned back to his uncle, still smiling.

"Uncle," he said gently, "this is your third chance. You know what that means, don't you?"

His voice lowered ever so slightly.

"If you fail now… you'll be the one who never moves again."

The words were soaked in calm threat.

Double-edged.

A promise of defeat and death.

Fang Wei's face paled. So did many in the audience.

No one had expected this.

No one had believed the gap could be so vast.

Could a half-step Nascent Soul realm truly stand untouched against a Peak Golden Core expert fueled by berserk potions?

It shouldn't be possible.

And yet…

Fang Wei grit his teeth.

He yanked out a second berserk pill.

Then a third.

The crowd gasped again.

His eyes turned bloodshot.

He bit down so hard on his lip it split open—and then tore off.

Blood gushed from his mouth, his fury boiling over as he rose into the air.

Golden-red energy crackled around him like a furious storm.

He raised both hands skyward, pulling every ounce of spiritual energy into a single massive sphere of golden hellfire.

Then—he dove.

"Divine Hell!" he screamed, descending like a meteor toward Fang Yuan.

Fang Yuan didn't move.

Didn't flinch.

He only looked up—calm, curious… almost entertained.

BOOM!

Dust and golden fire exploded across the platform.

Smoke spiraled in every direction.

But when it cleared—

Fang Yuan stood.

Untouched.

Not a single mark on him. Not a speck of dust.

He slowly took a step forward, hands still behind his back.

"Uncle," he said softly, "now it's my turn."

Above, Matriarch Lin Xi smiled knowingly and whispered, "I knew it."

Zhao Ming, He Long, and Wu Shun all turned sharply toward her.

"What is it that you know, matriach Lin?" Zhao asked, voice low.

Lin Xi looked at them, genuinely confused.

"How are you all so stupid?" she asked with an exasperated sigh. "Did none of you see it coming?"

And down below Fang Wei staggered back.

His body trembled, blood dripping from his mouth.

The berserk potion had burned through his meridians like fire through dry grass, but all of it—all of it—had done nothing.

He looked up, and what he saw was not a boy.

It was a shadow cast over a mountain. Calm. Silent. Unmoving.

His knees buckled, but pride alone kept him standing. That, and fear.

Fang Yuan took a single step forward.

Not hurried.

Not theatrical.

Just… steady.

That one step alone made the entire Phoenix soul Pavilion attendees leaned in.

He stopped a few paces away, still smiling, his hands still behind his back.

"You've had three chances, Uncle," he said gently. "Now, I'll take mine."

Fang Wei tried to speak, but his jaw locked.

Fang Yuan tilted his head.

"Don't worry. I won't use any techniques. No potions. No spiritual arts. Just… one strike."

And then—for the first time—he lifted his right arm.

The motion was slow. Deliberate. The smile never left his face.

But the moment his hand began to rise, the air changed.

The platform began to tremble.

Wind curled around him in strange spirals. Dust lifted.

Spirit essence in the air condensed—drawn, pulled, as if called by something ancient and overwhelming.

Fang Yuan's aura did not erupt.

It descended.

Heavy. Cold. Absolute.

Nascent Soul realm.

Those with sharp senses felt it first, the pressure, the certainty of it.

Then others saw it too.

"What…?"

"That's not… that's not half-step…"

"That's Nascent Soul!"

Gasps erupted again but no one spoke above a whisper.

Not anymore.

Above, the Crown Prince finally leaned forward in his seat, his folding fan halting mid-motion.

Beside him, Teacher Ian's brows rose ever so slightly.

"So," the Crown Prince murmured, "he was the Nascent Soul cultivator we sensed upon our arrival."

Ian said nothing, his gaze fixed intently on Fang Yuan.

A Nascent Soul realm… at just thirty years old? Even within the vast empire, that level of talent was nothing short of extraordinary.