The morning sun filtered through the bamboo windows, its light cold and pale against the round wooden table.
Fang Zheng, Fang Yuan, and Jiaying sat together, their breakfast quietly steaming in porcelain bowls.
Jiaying's gentle voice broke the silence, "Zheng'er, do you need anything?"
Fang Zheng hesitated, glancing first at his mother, then at the twin sitting across from him—his elder brother, Fang Yuan.
"Mother," he said softly, "can Brother come with us?"
Jiaying's gaze lingered on Fang Yuan. There was no warmth, yet no hostility either—only a calm indifference that came with understanding.
"If he wishes to come," she said evenly, "he will come."
Fang Yuan understood her hidden meaning. She was inviting him, though she would never say it directly.
He set down his chopsticks.
"Very well," he said, his tone neither warm nor cold. "I'll go."
Fang Zheng's face lit up with childlike happiness. Jiaying only lowered her eyes and continued eating, her expression unreadable.
When the meal was done, Fang Yuan rose.
Outside, the morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew and distant pine. He stretched lazily, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon as if measuring the world itself.
Moments later, Fang Zheng came running out.
"Brother! Why didn't you wake me earlier?" he protested, a spark of energy in his eyes.
"I wanted to train with you!"
Fang Yuan smiled faintly and reached out to pat Fang Zheng's head.
"Don't worry," he said, his voice deep and calm. "I have big plans for you."
Then he turned and added, "Wait here. I'll be back soon."
With unhurried steps, he walked back toward his room.
Inside, the air was quiet and still.
Fang Yuan went straight to his wardrobe, crouched down, and pulled out a large wooden box hidden beneath it.
The weight scraped softly against the floor as he dragged it into the light.
Opening the lid, a layer of folded clothes greeted him. He set them aside one by one — and beneath them, a dull gray gleam appeared.
Primeval stones.
The box was filled with them, stacked neatly and shining faintly in the morning light.
For four years, Fang Yuan had been hoarding these stones in silence. The rent from three bamboo houses, the earnings of the wine tavern — all quietly collected, all stored away under his own hand.
This was only one of his caches.
The rest were hidden elsewhere, scattered like seeds of caution and foresight.
His mother, Jiaying, rarely concerned herself with such trivial matters.
She had her own income from clan missions, and the Nine Leaf Vitality Grass which remained securely in her possession.
As for the tavern and the rentals — those were Fang Yuan's domain. He managed the workers, handled the accounts, and let his wealth grow quietly in the shadows.
"If a problem can be solved with money, why waste time and effort on it?" he muttered under his breath, a faint smile touching his lips.
He reached for a pouch at his side and began placing primeval stones into a small, grayish Gu worm — the Stone Bag Gu.
He had purchased it from last year's merchant caravan, spending five hundred primeval stones without hesitation.
One could even say, it was a worthy investment.
This Gu could hold up to thirty thousand primeval stones, its space vast and also has a concealing feature.
One by one, the stones disappeared into it, vanishing as if swallowed by air.
Before long, half of the box still remained untouched and Fang Yuan stopped.
The pouch in his hand was slim and ordinary-looking, no different from any money bag — yet within it lay a fortune.
He slipped it into his robe and murmured, "Nine thousand primeval stones. That should be enough for what I need."
With that, he turned and walked out of the room.
Downstairs, Fang Zheng was waiting, full of energy, and Jiaying stood nearby, her gaze calm and unreadable.
"Alright," Fang Yuan nodded slightly.
"Let's go." he said.
Jiaying walked at the front, holding Fang Zheng's small hand, while Fang Yuan followed at her side. The morning streets were lively, yet whispers followed them like shadows.
"Poor guy," someone muttered. "I heard even his mother hates him."
"Poor? Hmph. It's his fault his father died."
"How could a child cause that?"
"Who knows… maybe he's just cursed."
The voices came and went — low, venomous, and careless.
Jiaying's brows furrowed slightly.
The words stung her heart more than she cared to admit.
She glanced at Fang Yuan, worried he might be hurt.
But Fang Yuan's expression was calm as still water. A faint smile played at his lips, his gaze distant, unreadable. The noise around him might as well have been the rustling of leaves.
Seeing this, Jiaying's tension eased a little. She said nothing more and led Fang Zheng forward.
Behind her, Fang Yuan walked silently — his eyes serene, his smile faint, his thoughts deep and cold as the abyss.
Ignorant fools.
My father died, so I am cursed?
How Laughable.
And you dare call me unlucky?
His gaze swept over the murmuring villagers, eyes calm yet filled with quiet contempt.
Hmph… keep talking while you can.
In a few years, you won't even have the breath left to whisper my name.
The sneers and rumors were nothing but noise — the barking of dogs beneath the mountain he would one day stand upon.
They spoke as if they knew the future. Yet Fang Yuan had already lived that future twice.
Compared to him, none of them were even worthy to speak.
His eyes drifted toward the distant clan pavilion, the morning light gleaming against its roof tiles.
A faint, almost pitying smile appeared on his face.
"Ignorance," he murmured softly, "truly is bliss."
....