Chapter Fifty-Three: Clan Council (Part 1)

The Pei clan’s first formal family council commenced.

The entire Pei family, from elders to children, gathered together. Even the infant puppies were brought out and cradled in arms.

The meeting took place in the clearing to the north of the village. Not far off stood the woods where over a dozen mountain bandits had been hanged—visible if one looked up. Nearby lay the earth pits where the bandits’ bodies had been buried. A faint yet unmistakable metallic tang of blood seemed to linger in the air.

The women of the Pei family were almost immediately haunted by vivid memories of life-and-death struggles. In their minds, the image of Pei Qing surfaced in unison.

Yan Yu silently freed one hand and gently clasped his, signaling with her eyes that his sulking would soon pass.

A shrewd merchant quietly grasped the hand of a Jinwu guard; their fingers tightened in a firm squeeze before the merchant bowed respectfully and, with his followers, strode away confidently.

Throughout the night, Meng Yao was repeatedly roused from slumber by a gentle voice that coaxed her awake and then softly lulled her back to sleep.

Qin Huaiyu and Sha Zha Zhongyi performed a symbolic handover, signifying that Shuo Fang would henceforth be under Old Sha’s command. Yet Old Qin insisted he would remain for another three, five, or even ten days—after all, with nearly ten thousand soldiers and such a vast inheritance, one could not simply pack up and leave on a whim.

As he lifted his hand, the season’s first snowflakes began to drift down, fluttering softly. The snow melted instantly upon touching his warm skin, turning into droplets of water.

After lingering in the lounge for quite some time, Luo Junqian followed Mu Yuchen, both waiting for a message from Rong Xiu before withdrawing completely, including Rong Xiu himself.

He ignored Du Ping and went straight into the room, where Wu Chengsi was holding a memorial report, grinding his teeth as he spoke, “Qin Huaiyu, Zhao Wudi, have you not done enough harm to this department? Heh heh, it seems heaven has eyes—today it’s my turn to stand guard. How could I let things go your way?”

During that period, seven modern TV dramas aired. Jian Fenghou opened each one briefly, eliminating those that seemed unlikely until he found the closest match, then started watching from the beginning without sparing a single marked episode.

Even when he occasionally lost control, a broken sob would escape from his throat.

“Don’t tell me you want to return to your maternal home?” Lei Changhao was taken aback. Aside from once accompanying her back right after their wedding, she had never mentioned returning to her family estate again.

Even if Shi Yue were present, he would have to admit that Lady Bai’s words were nothing short of flawless, beyond reproach.

At the same time, however, it was completely different; its strength continually surpassed Sun Wukong’s expectations, bringing every opponent an unparalleled "surprise." After that, the subject was dropped.

Moreover, the marquis title was merely Zhuo Yang’s first step. After the wedding, he would be elevated to viscount, officially entering the ranks of high nobility. Once he and Coco had a son, the child’s status would elevate the father to an earl— the ceiling for someone of common birth.

One could say that even if Kaxiu’s mind was in turmoil, a slight shift would reveal dozens of possible outcomes after he left with Tai Heng. The only advantage of leaving with him was the possibility of finding his sister.

As for the Queen Mother, there was clearly no longer any cause for concern! She was also a great asset to Flower Fruit Mountain. Since she was already so close to her elder brother, could she really be driven away? More likely, her brother would be unable to act otherwise, and the only possibility was to let her remain on Flower Fruit Mountain—as if she had never been seen.

Watching the black-clad figure run off, Ji Ran withdrew her gaze. Yet when she saw Sister Xiaoyin’s pale expression, she couldn’t help but startle.

A master’s explanation was always a rare opportunity. Chen Feng seemed not to have fully emerged from that state of insight, his perception unusually sharp. What had once seemed an empty, unrivaled Heavenly Peak housing only Xiongba now, in his mind, was filled with countless faint silhouettes.