Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Who Will Be the Family Head?

Tu Cun Chan returned wounded, and the news that he intended to pass the position of family head to Tu Cong Wen spread through the clan in no time.

Years ago, Tu Cun Chan’s brother, Tu Cun Zhi, had argued for splitting the family. He seized half the clan’s property and moved to the left bank of the river bend, and so his line became known as the Zuo Tu branch.

Now the Zuo Tu gathered in a room. Two rows of redwood chairs faced one another, and in the central seat lounged the young Tu Mian.

“If the big matter failed, then so be it,” he drawled. “But I leave the small matter to you, and you can’t even manage that?”

With one hand propping up his head, he rolled two crimson beads between his fingers. “I wanted an adult Gray-Winged Demon Moth. You lot thought you were clever—force-matured a larva and gave it to me. The Golden Cicada gu didn’t get its fill, and a black cicada came out instead.”

Tu Cun Zhi trembled like a leaf. Sweat poured down his face as he cried, “It truly wasn’t my doing, my lord! After you gave the order, I handed it to the servants. Who could’ve known those fools would dare try to deceive you?”

“Hah!”

Tu Mian laughed, the sound sharp with fury. He squeezed the beads until they crackled. “I give you work, and you pass it to servants. Then what use are you?”

His fingers tightened. The crimson beads let out piercing squeals, split apart, and turned into two blood-red centipedes that slithered up into his sleeves.

Tu Mian rose. No one on either side dared remain seated; all stood with lowered heads.

“If it weren’t for your stupidity, my Golden Cicada would’ve killed both of them!”

He struck without warning, booting Tu Cun Zhi to the ground. The kick was so brutal that Tu Cun Zhi’s chest visibly caved. “Kill those two and Tu Cong Wen can’t stir up trouble. The Tu Family would fall right into my hands. You’re usually so calculating—yet on this, you’re the one who can’t think straight!”

Tu Cun Zhi was an old man with hair and beard gone white. After that blow, his eyes rolled back and his breath nearly stopped.

Tu Mian was enraged at his uselessness, yet he could not let him die at this moment. He flicked a glance to the side. Someone rushed forward and fed Tu Cun Zhi a life-saving pill, and only then did the old man’s eyes flutter open again.

“This afternoon at the clan assembly, follow my lead,” Tu Mian said coldly. “Do not move on your own.”

Hatred simmered in his chest. With his ability, he could have slaughtered the main family outright, but then he would never obtain the token the Ling Zhen Sect had passed down to its vassal clans. Without that token, taking the Tu Family would be meaningless.

The plan had been simple: let the Golden Cicada kill the Ling Zhen Sect disciple and Tu Cun Chan, then challenge Tu Cong Wen for the position of family head. Once he inherited the Tu Family openly and “legitimately,” he would seize the token and go to the Ling Zhen Sect.

For such a straightforward matter to fail at Tu Cun Chan’s hands left Tu Mian wishing he could peel the man’s skin off and feed it to his gu.

The Zuo Tu dispersed in fearful silence. The main family, meanwhile, found no peace either.

That part proved easy enough to settle. Zhao Chun didn’t even draw a weapon—she simply struck and shattered the rock mound in the courtyard, a formation as tall as three men, and those with objections swallowed their words.

The true difficulty lay with Tu Cong Wen.

Had Tu Mian never appeared, Tu Cong Wen inheriting as family head would have been beyond dispute. But once the clan learned there was another youth—close to Tu Cong Wen in age, talent, and cultivation, yet more meticulous and steady—people’s opinions began to shift.

If Tu Cong Wen wanted the clan to accept him wholeheartedly, he had to defeat Tu Mian head-on.

“Cong Wen has been taught by me since childhood,” Tu Cun Chan said quietly to Zhao Chun later, worry refusing to leave his face. “He works hard, and his cultivation and techniques are solid. If it’s a direct fight, I trust him.”

His voice dropped. “I only fear the other side will use foul methods. Those are hardest to guard against.”

“I will do everything I can,” Zhao Chun said, unshaken. “I won’t let villains succeed.”

Tu Cun Chan seemed to relax, just slightly. He closed his eyes, and his tone grew weighted. “If it truly comes to… that point…”

His voice dwindled until Zhao Chun couldn’t catch the rest.

Outside, the wooden clapper rang out for midafternoon. The sun blazed overhead.

“It’s time, Fellow Daoist.”

Tu Cun Chan pushed himself up, swaying like dead wood hollowed by wind and sand.