( Planning)
The room assigned to them was… excessive.
Zhang Wei stood just inside the doorway, his gaze sweeping across the space with a faint, unimpressed look.
Polished wooden floors stretched beneath their feet, reflecting the warm glow of lanterns hung neatly along the carved walls. The bed was large—too large for two people—layered with thick silk covers embroidered with delicate mountain patterns. A low table sat by the window, already prepared with tea that still steamed faintly, its fragrance light and calming.
Everything was refined.
Everything was expensive.
And yet—
"…Unnecessary," Wei muttered under his breath.
Behind him, Zhang Lie stepped in, his expression calm as always. He gave a small nod, accepting the arrangement without complaint.
"It will do," Lie said simply.
Wei clicked his tongue softly but didn't argue further.
Servants arrived shortly after, bowing respectfully as they placed trays of food on the table. The dishes were arranged with care—rice steamed to perfection, light vegetable dishes, a simple broth, and slices of meat prepared with delicate seasoning.
It looked good.
It smelled good.
But something about it—
Felt… lacking.
Wei sat down slowly.
His stomach growled almost immediately.
Loud enough for Lie to hear.
"…Just eat," Lie said.
Wei didn't reply.
He picked up the bowl anyway.
The rice was warm, soft, filling—but plain. The broth was light, almost too light, as if made more for recovery than satisfaction.
He ate.
Slowly.
Forcing each bite down.
Not because he enjoyed it—
But because his body demanded it.
…I haven't eaten properly in days.
The realization came with quiet annoyance.
He swallowed another mouthful, barely tasting it.
Across from him, Lie ate without complaint, his movements steady and disciplined.
Wei leaned back slightly once he finished, exhaling.
Still hungry.
But no longer empty.
—
Unlike the others, Wei hadn't changed.
The orange robe still clung lightly to his frame, its soft fabric catching the warm light of the room. The coat he had given Fei Fei was gone, leaving him more exposed to the cooler air that lingered indoors.
His white hair remained loose, falling freely over his shoulders, slightly tousled from the journey.
The rest of the Zhang clan had already bathed.
Changed.
Calmer tones replaced the dust and wear of travel—deep blues, muted grays, clean whites. Their appearances were restored, composed, presentable.
Wei—
Looked out of place.
And yet—
Still drew attention.
—
The main dining hall of the inn was vast, divided subtly by clan.
Each group occupied its own space, tables arranged with quiet intention to avoid overlap, yet close enough that voices—no matter how soft—could travel.
And they did.
Whispers lingered.
From earlier.
From the moment outside.
From him.
"…That one…"
"…Zhang Wei…"
"…Was that really—"
"They say—"
The words never fully formed aloud.
But they existed.
Everywhere.
Wei heard them.
Ignored them.
But did not forget them.
—
Further across the hall—
The Ji clan sat.
Ordered.
Disciplined.
Their robes were darker overall—black and gold dominant among them, with occasional variations of deep green or muted silver. Even at rest, their posture remained straight, their presence unified.
At the center—
Ji Yao.
He sat calmly, his back straight, one hand resting lightly against the table as he listened.
"Ji Yao," one of the elders spoke—a middle-aged man with composed features and a steady gaze. His robe was simpler than expected, but the quality of the fabric and the precision of its stitching spoke of quiet authority.
"Be careful."
His tone was calm.
But firm.
The ten disciples around them nodded in agreement.
Their journey here had not been smooth.
Not at all.
Ji Yao's eyes lowered slightly, recalling it.
The ambushes.
The poisoned wine.
The subtle attempts hidden behind polite smiles.
Even the princess of the Qi Kingdom—
He exhaled faintly.
Troublesome.
Her boldness had been unexpected.
Unwelcome.
"I will," he replied simply.
No hesitation.
No arrogance.
Just certainty.
Beside him, Ji Lin leaned slightly, his gaze drifting toward the Zhang clan's table.
"They won't be easy," he said quietly. "Especially that Zhang Lin. His foundation is solid."
A few of the disciples frowned slightly.
The elder nodded once.
Then spoke—
"We'll send our weakest first."
A pause.
"To focus on that one… the one in the middle wearing orange."
Silence.
Not long.
But enough.
Ji Lin blinked.
"…Elder," he said carefully, "you've mistaken the gender."
The elder's brows furrowed slightly.
"He's a man."
Another pause.
The elder's eyes narrowed faintly.
But he didn't respond immediately.
Instead—
He glanced across the hall.
At Wei.
From behind.
The loose white hair.
The soft frame.
The way the orange robe draped lightly around him.
"…I see."
His voice was flat.
Unreadable.
"Then we focus on him first."
This time—
No one objected.
The disciples nodded.
Agreement settled.
—
Around them, low tables had been set with dishes not just for the clans—but for the spiritual beasts that accompanied some of them.
Creatures of varying sizes and forms fed quietly beside their masters—scaled, furred, feathered—each one carrying a presence of its own.
The air was filled with soft sounds.
Eating.
Breathing.
Whispers.
And beneath it all—
Tension.
Wei sat still.
His gaze lowered slightly, though his awareness stretched outward.
He didn't need to look to know.
They had noticed him.
They had already begun planning.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"…Of course they have."
His fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Not nervous.
Not careless.
Just thinking.
So it starts already…
Outside, the night deepened.
Inside—
The game had already begun.
Wei leaned back slightly, the wooden chair creaking faintly beneath his weight as his fingers tapped once… twice… against the table.
His gaze remained lowered.
But his mind—
Moved.
Fast.
So they've already marked me…
He didn't need to look toward the Ji clan again. The weight of their earlier glance, the subtle shift in intent—it was enough.
Clear enough.
A quiet exhale slipped past his lips.
"…Annoying."
Not fear.
Not panic.
Just—
Troublesome.
Across from him, Zhang Lie noticed the change. His chopsticks paused mid-air for a brief second before lowering slowly.
"You're thinking too much," Lie said.
Wei's lips curved faintly.
"When am I not?"
Lie didn't reply.
Because there was truth in that.
—
Around them, the hall continued to hum with quiet activity. Bowls were replaced, tea was poured, servants moved like shadows—present, yet never intrusive.
But beneath that surface—
Eyes lingered.
From other clans.
From curious disciples.
From those who had witnessed the moment outside.
Wei felt it.
All of it.
And for once—
He didn't ignore it completely.
His gaze lifted slightly, drifting across the hall without appearing to focus on anything in particular.
Observation.
Entrances.
Distances.
Who sat where.
Who spoke to whom.
Who avoided eye contact.
Who stared too long.
Too many variables…
His fingers stilled.
The timeline is already off.
Ji Yao appearing early.
Their arrival not being as unnoticed as it should have been.
Even the way the clans were reacting—
Sharper.
More alert.
If this continues…
His eyes narrowed just slightly.
Then Ning's situation might get worse.
That thought—
Stayed longer than the rest.
Wei leaned forward again, resting his chin lightly against his palm.
"…This is why I hate following plots halfway."
Lie glanced at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Wei waved it off lazily, though the lightness didn't reach his eyes.
—
A servant approached quietly, refilling their tea. The faint aroma of herbs rose with the steam, warm and calming.
Wei picked up the cup.
Held it.
But didn't drink.
Instead, his gaze shifted again—
Toward the Ji clan.
This time, more direct.
Ji Yao sat still, listening to something one of his disciples said. His posture hadn't changed since earlier—straight, composed, controlled.
Untouchable.
Wei watched him for a second longer.
Then another.
…Yeah.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
Still looks like trouble.
But something else caught his attention.
Not Ji Yao.
The ones around him.
Their positioning.
Their focus.
The subtle way they glanced in his direction before quickly looking away.
They've already decided.
Wei let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"Targeting me first…" he murmured under his breath.
Lie heard it this time.
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"Who?"
Wei tilted his head faintly toward the Ji clan.
Lie followed his gaze.
His expression darkened just a fraction.
"…Understood."
No more words were needed.
—
Wei finally took a sip of his tea.
Warm.
Bitter.
Grounding.
He set the cup down gently.
His posture relaxed again, shoulders loosening as if nothing mattered, as if he hadn't just pieced together half the intentions in the room.
But his eyes—
Remained sharp.
If they come at me first…
His fingers tapped lightly again.
Then I'll just have to play along.
A faint smile appeared.
Small.
Almost harmless.
But there was calculation behind it now.
Let's see how far they go.
—
Somewhere nearby, a spiritual beast let out a low sound, its tail flicking against the floor. The lantern light flickered slightly as a breeze slipped through the open corridors.
The night deepened.
The conversations softened.
One by one, clans began to rise, returning to their assigned rooms.
Wei remained seated just a moment longer.
Watching.
Thinking.
Adjusting.
Everything's changing…
He stood finally, stretching lightly as if shaking off nothing more than fatigue.
"Let's go," he said casually.
Lie nodded.
As they walked away, the whispers followed again—but quieter now.
More cautious.
More deliberate.
And this time—
Wei didn't ignore them.
He listened.
Every word.
Every tone.
Every hint.
Because now—
He needed all of it.
The game had already begun.
And unlike before—
Zhang Wei was ready to play.