Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Battle with Tu Mian — Part 1

In the ancestral hall, the Zuo Tu branch and the main family stood in two opposing lines. Zhao Chun and Tu Cun Chan arrived last.

“This is clan business,” Tu Cun Zhi said from his seat. He still looked weak, but his bulging eyes shone with hostility. “Family Head, you should dismiss outsiders.”

“Fellow Daoist Zhao is a disciple of the main sect,” Tu Cun Chan replied evenly. “She is no outsider. Besides, yesterday I informed the main family: I have invited her to serve as a guest elder and discuss the matter of the family head. The Zuo Tu branch is only a side line—if you did not know, that is hardly strange.”

Tu Cun Zhi scowled. Thin sarcasm crept into his voice. “Since when did the family head become so arbitrary? Has no one in the main family tried to advise you? To agree to something this absurd…”

“Absurd or not, it has been decided,” Tu Cun Chan said, his voice striking like stone. “It will not be changed.”

He swept a cold glance over the Zuo Tu clansmen and strode to the central seat.

He sat at the head of the hall. Zhao Chun was invited to sit to his right, just below him.

With everyone present, Tu Cun Chan dispensed with pretense. “The reason for this assembly has been announced. Cong Wen has been raised at my side since childhood. In talent, temperament, and ability, there is no one among the main family who can match him.”

His jaw tightened. “I no longer have the strength to manage clan affairs. I intend to pass the position of family head to him—”

“Family Head, that is not right!”

Tu Cun Zhi’s brows had been climbing ever since he heard “no one can match him.” He cut in before Tu Cun Chan could finish. “Perhaps the main family has no match, but that does not mean my Zuo Tu branch has none!

“In terms of closeness, Tu Mian is only a grandnephew, not like Tu Cong Wen, your direct great-grandson. But in terms of ability—whether Tu Mian or Tu Cong Wen is stronger—everyone here has eyes.”

Tu Cun Chan had expected trouble, yet hearing it spoken aloud still left him choking with rage. After a brief pause, he snapped, “So you admit there is a difference in closeness?

“When the Zuo Tu branch split off back then, your line was struck from the clan register. Only in recent years, under the excuse of erecting a memorial for your father, were you barely allowed back onto the rolls.”

His voice rose. “You committed the crime of splitting the clan, and you still dare covet the position of family head!”

“Family Head!” Tu Cun Zhi protested. “Allow Tu Mian to speak!”

A smiling youth stepped forward from the Zuo Tu side—the other storm center of this day: the Zuo Tu young lord, Tu Mian.

He bowed deeply, performing perfect courtesy, then lifted his head and spoke with crisp force. “The Zuo Tu branch’s departure did harm the Tu Family. Precisely because of that, we have rebuilt the clan stele and added to the clan’s property, using small deeds to atone for our past wrongs.”

He spread his hands slightly. “Now the Tu Family faces enemies without and instability within. We need a family head who can keep order inside and drive out threats beyond, so the Tu Family may rise again.

“I am not talented enough to claim I can purge every external foe. But on internal matters, I can give my word: if I inherit the position of family head, the Zuo Tu branch will merge into the main family this very day. Everything once taken, and all profits from these nearly a hundred years, will be returned in full. From then on, there will be no more Zuo Tu—only the main line of the Tu Family!”

The air in the ancestral hall shifted at once. Even among the main family, more than a few faces brightened with temptation.

Tu Mian pressed on without pause. “Cong Wen and I are the same age. Yesterday, I broke through to the third level of the Qi Refining Stage.”

His gaze fixed on Tu Cun Chan. “May I ask, Family Head—will the next family head be chosen by personal closeness, or by a junior’s ability?”

Each sentence stabbed straight into the heart. Tu Cun Chan’s face flushed crimson.

Originally, today’s dispute was meant to be settled by a duel between Tu Cong Wen and Tu Mian, the winner taking the seat. But hearing that Tu Mian had already reached the third level of the Qi Refining Stage, Tu Cun Chan no longer wished to allow it.

The gap between early levels might not be vast, but Tu Cong Wen’s odds were already slim. If he fought and was humiliated in front of the whole clan, he might lose any chance of inheriting at all.

Tu Cun Chan’s thoughts churned as he searched for a way to salvage the situation—only for Tu Cong Wen to stand.

“Family Head,” Tu Cong Wen said sharply, “Cong Wen is willing to duel Tu Mian. The victor will inherit. I will accept the outcome without complaint!”

Before Tu Cun Chan could reject it, Tu Mian answered at once, “I accept.”

Third level against second—an almost certain result. Tu Cun Chan sank back into his chair, composure slipping.

Outside the ancestral hall stood a dueling platform cast from bluestone, a clear sign of how the Heng Yun world revered strength.

Tu Cun Chan was helped out, his face pale with grief and fury.

Zhao Chun followed beside him, calm enough to make him uneasy. “Fellow Daoist,” he asked in a low voice, “you’re so composed—do you have a method?”

“It isn’t a good one,” Zhao Chun said. “At best, I have a 50 percent chance.”

Tu Cun Chan’s doubt deepened. “Then—”

Zhao Chun brushed aside loose strands of hair from her forehead and stared at him steadily. “Family Head Tu, whatever hidden measures you have, bring them out.

“If my guess is right… your brother’s nerve is far greater than you think.”