Wei Ji slowly walked toward the head chef. His footsteps echoed in the silent courtyard, each step heavy and measured.
The crowd held its breath.
Even the wind seemed to pause, carrying the tension like the calm before a storm.
The head chef, a man who had always strutted around the kitchens with pride, suddenly felt his knees weaken.
The Han Family's servants often whispered about Han Ji, the eldest son — quiet, polite, often aloof. He never raised his voice, never argued, never interfered in house matters. But the look in his eyes now was not something the chef had ever seen before.
There was a quiet rage burning there, cold and sharp, like the edge of a sword drawn in moonlight.
Wei Ji stopped in front of him, his eyes fixed on the token hanging from the chef's belt.
The small jade piece glowed faintly with spiritual light — the same token he had given to Lu Shaohua. His voice came out low, calm, but filled with dangerous weight.
"Why do you have that token?"
The chef swallowed hard, sweat rolling down his temple. "T-this? Young Master Han Ji, I—I found it! Someone must have dropped it in the kitchen!"
Wei Ji's eyes didn't blink. He simply stared. The chef's mouth grew dry. He tried to smile, but it trembled.
"I was only trying to protect the family property," he said quickly. "One of the servants had it. A thief, pretending to be loyal, but I caught her. She claimed it was given by you! Ridiculous, right? I was planning to punish her and then—"
"Punish?" Wei Ji's voice cut in, soft and steady. "How?"
The chef's lips twisted nervously. "Y-young Master, you know how it is. Sometimes a lesson is needed. I told her, after I'm done with her, I would give her to the guards, let them teach her what happens to liars. I—"
The words died in his throat when Wei Ji's eyes sharpened. The air grew heavy.
From the distance, Han Cui closed his eyes and sighed. He knew that tone.
He had thought his eldest son was quiet, weak, uninterested in family pride. But seeing his rage over that woman… Han Cui felt both anger and pity for the fool of a chef.
"Idiot," Han Cui muttered under his breath.
The courtyard stayed silent. Wei Ji took a single step closer. The head chef could feel the faint pressure of spiritual energy wrapping around him, making it hard to breathe.
"That token," Wei Ji said, his tone quiet but every word sharp as steel, "was mine. I gave it to my wife."
The head chef's eyes widened. His lips trembled. His knees almost gave in.
Han Cui quickly stepped forward, raising a hand. "Enough, Han Ji. The head chef has been serving this household for many years. He's loyal, and he's done much for the Han Family. During the famine two years ago, he worked day and night to feed the servants. When the plague struck the outer town, he donated half his pay to the sick. He's not a bad man, just careless."
He paused, his gaze softening. "Let it go this once. He meant no harm."
Wei Ji didn't reply immediately. He looked at his father. Han Cui rarely spoke gently to him, but now… the man's voice was polite, even pleading. That, more than anything, made the head chef's blood run cold.
The chef felt the weight of that moment. If the Han Family's patriarch — a man known for his pride — had to speak to his son like this, then it meant Han Ji was not someone he could afford to offend.
The head chef fell to his knees with a loud thud.
"Y-young Master Han Ji, I didn't know! I swear, I didn't know!" he cried, bowing his head to the ground. "If I knew she was your wife, I would have never said such words! I thought she was a thief. Please forgive me! Please forgive my foolish mouth!"
Wei Ji's voice turned even quieter. "You said you would let the guards have her. Did I hear that wrong?"
The chef's face turned pale as ashes. "N-no, I didn't mean it! I just said it to scare her! It was a joke!"
"You said you would rape her and throw her to the guards to enjoy after to teach her a lesson," Wei Ji said, his tone like cold rain falling on stone.
The entire courtyard fell silent. The words hit like thunder.
The head chef's hands began to shake uncontrollably. He pressed his forehead against the stone ground, again and again, until his skin split and blood smeared the tiles. His two assistants, the ones who had laughed earlier, also fell to their knees, banging their heads desperately.
"We didn't know!"
"She said she had the young master's token! We thought she was lying!"
"Please forgive us, young master! We didn't know she was your wife!"
Their voices cracked with fear.
Wei Ji stared down at them, expression unreadable. The courtyard, once filled with cheers and celebration, had turned eerily silent. The other servants avoided meeting his eyes. Even the Sword Shandian Sect representative looked uneasy.
At that moment, a clear voice broke the silence.
"Elder Representative," said Han Zukong, the middle brother. He had been quiet the entire time, standing beside the sect emissary. Now he took a step forward, bowing slightly. "May I ask something?"
The Sword Shandian Sect representative nodded, curious. "Speak."
Han Zukong smiled faintly. "When a disciple joins the Sword Shandian Sect, are they allowed to take personal servants or assistants with them?"
"Of course," the representative said. "Up to three, as long as they do not interfere with training."
"Good," Zukong said. His gaze turned toward Wei Ji and the kneeling men. "Then I wish to take those three servants with me."
The words dropped like a boulder in the courtyard.
"What!?"
"Did he just—?"
"He wants to take them?"
Murmurs exploded across the crowd. Han Cui froze. His lips parted, but no words came out. He looked at his son in disbelief.
"Zukong, what are you doing?" he asked sharply.
But Zukong didn't answer his father. He only smiled at the sect representative and continued. "They seem to have caused a misunderstanding with my eldest brother. As his younger brother, it is my duty to discipline them properly. If I take them with me, I can make sure they are corrected — within the safety of the sect, of course."
The crowd grew restless. Some understood immediately. Others whispered in confusion. Han Zhanjian, the youngest, clenched his fists.
"He's trying to use the sect," he whispered.
Zukong turned again, his tone calm but deliberate. "One more question, Elder. If someone attacks or harms a servant of a Sword Shandian Sect disciple, does the sect treat it as an offense?"
The representative's eyes flickered with understanding. This boy was smart — and scheming. He was already thinking of ways to use the sect's name for protection or power.
"Yes," the man said slowly. "If your servants are under your name, any harm to them is seen as harm to the sect."
Gasps spread through the courtyard. Everyone understood now.
Zukong wanted to protect the head chef and his companions under the banner of the Sword Shandian Sect — not because he cared for them, but to tie Wei Ji's hands. If Wei Ji retaliated, it would be seen as an attack against the sect itself.
Han Cui's expression turned dark. He opened his mouth to speak, but the crowd was already buzzing.
"He's trying to suppress his older brother!"
"If Han Ji retaliates, the sect will get involved!"
"What a clever move by the middle son!"
Han Zhanjian's heart raced. He knew his second brother's mind was sharp, but this was dangerous. "Zukong… what are you doing?" he whispered, his eyes darting toward Wei Ji.
But Wei Ji didn't look angry. He stood still, his arms crossed, his eyes cold.
The sect representative looked at him, almost amused. "If you wish to protect your pride, you can join the sect as well. That way, your standing will be equal to your brother's."
The crowd turned toward Wei Ji, waiting. The idea made sense — if both brothers were disciples, the sect wouldn't favor one over the other. But Wei Ji only shook his head.
"I will never join any faction," he said quietly. "Not in this life. Not until I finish my mission."
The courtyard erupted in whispers.
"What does he mean?"
"Is he refusing the Sword Shandian Sect?"
"Is he crazy? That's suicide!"
The representative's smile vanished. His expression hardened. "Do you understand what you're saying? Are you challenging the authority of the Sword Shandian Sect?"
The pressure of his spiritual energy rolled through the courtyard. Servants dropped to their knees. Even some elders struggled to breathe. But Wei Ji didn't move. His gaze was calm, unwavering.
And then he spoke, his voice cutting through the suffocating air like a blade.
"So what?"
The entire Han Family courtyard fell silent again — so silent that even the sound of the wind seemed to stop.