Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!
Chapter 57: Tournament [1]

Chapter 57: Tournament [1]

The day of the Coldwind City Championship dawned with crisp wind and cloudless skies.

From early morning, the streets were already filled with bustle.

Market stalls overflowed with food and trinkets, street performers gathered crowds at every corner, and merchant caravans from outlying towns poured into the city gates.

Coldwind City, second in influence only to Snowveil City within the Eastern Region had become the epicenter of anticipation.

The tournament was more than just a contest between juniors.

It was a stage of power.

And so, to triumph in Coldwind was to send ripples across the Eastern Region itself.

A symbol of which family’s light would shine brightest for the coming year.

Representatives from nearby villages and subordinate towns made their way toward the Coldwind City Arena, eager to witness the spectacle.

At the main entrance, flags of various families flapped proudly in the wind.

And at the heart of it all stood the towering Coldwind Arena, an ancient coliseum carved from snow-white stone and reinforced with spiritual formations.

Thousands gathered in the stands, their voices rising in waves of chatter and excitement.

Fang Chen, acting patriarch, led the group as they arrived in the area.

He wore ceremonial robes bearing the Lighting raven crest of the Fang Clan and walked with calm composure.

His face bore a pleasant smile, though his eyes were ever-watchful.

Behind him were the five chosen competitors, Fang Yang, Fang Bo, Fang Rui, Fang Mei, and finally... Fang Tian.

Fang Chen’s group walked straight into the VIP sector, where the heads of other noble families awaited.

There, standing in formal reception, were the four most prominent family leaders of Coldwind City:

Zhao Ming of the Zhao Clan, dignified in his black-gold robes, white beard immaculate, eyes sharp beneath heavy brows.

He Long, burly and broad-shouldered, bore the aura of a battle-hardened general. The War Serpent sigil on his chest glinted faintly as he clasped his hands behind his back.

Matriarch Lin Xi, elegant and cold, moved like a drifting snowflake. Her ink-dyed robes shimmered as if woven from morning mist.

And lastly, Wu Shun, tall and quiet, arrived in formal armor with a lion crest glowing on his chest. He said little, but the sharp glint behind his glasses missed nothing.

As Fang Chen approached, the four rose to greet him.

"Brother Fang," Zhao Lin said first, offering a cupped fist salute. "It’s an honor to see the Fang Clan take part again this year."

"Especially with such... gifted juniors," He Long added with a smile.

Wu Shun said nothing, but his eyes flicked to each of the Fang disciples as if memorizing their qi signatures.

Lin Xi tilted her head slightly. "Acting Patriarch Fang," she said coolly, "Let us hope this year’s games remain civil."

Fang Chen returned the greetings with grace, smiling warmly but saying little.

He knew what they were thinking.

The Fang Clan was now backed by a Nascent Soul cultivator.

And none of them were.

Their greetings were warm on the surface, but it wasn’t hard to see the veiled tension beneath.

Even among the Five Great Families, the Fang family’s influence now loomed like a silent mountain.

None of them dared offend Fang Yuan, not when the memory of what happened at River Light Bridge was still whispered about in private circles.

The other family heads didn’t know all the details, but they knew enough: Gu Lanyue and Gu Jian had returned defeated... and silent.

And since that day, the Gu family had shut its doors.

Yes.

No one would provoke the Fang family today.

Not openly.

Fang Chen gave a shallow bow. "May the best disciples win."

Then, without another word, he and his group moved to their designated seating.

As the families settled into their designated VIP sector overlooking the grand Coldwind Arena, the atmosphere shifted subtly.

With polite smiles and warm tea served by attendants, the real contest had already begun, not between the juniors, but between the clan heads.

Boasts disguised as casual conversation floated through the air like drifting petals, each sentence laced with quiet pride and competitive edge.

Patriarch Zhao Ming was the first to open the game.

He chuckled lightly, stroking his immaculate white beard. "My son Zhao Ren has made some progress recently. He just broke through to the peak of Qi Transformation last week."

His words were calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed the pride he felt. A 21-year-old at peak Qi Transformation was nothing to scoff at. Especially in a generation so recently considered lackluster.

There were murmurs of approval from a few seated elders nearby.

He Long grinned, arms still crossed behind his back. "Not bad, Brother Zhao. But my nephew He Yong isn’t far behind. He’s 20 this year and also stands at the peak of Qi Transformation."

His tone was loud, jovial even, but his eyes slid toward Fang Chen with a trace of provocation.

Another round of polite nods rippled through the section.

Wu Shun adjusted his glasses, face unreadable as ever. "My niece, Wu Min, is only 18... but she has already stepped into the mid-stage of Qi Transformation. I imagine she’ll surprise a few people today."

His voice was quiet and clipped, but every word was precise, meant to highlight how early their talents had matured.

Matriarch Lin Xi remained silent throughout. She sat gracefully, sipping her tea as if none of this interested her.

Only a faint smile curved her lips. An expression of amused detachment or perhaps quiet confidence.

Fang Chen gave a small, courteous nod at each revelation, offering no comment of his own.

Inside, however, he could feel the pressure mounting.

Zhao Ren, He Yong, Wu Min... all were talented. All strong contenders.

And yet, they still had no idea what the Fang Clan had prepared.

That was their greatest advantage.

Fang Chen forced a smile and sat back. He could feel sweat at the base of his neck despite the cool breeze drifting through the arena.

He was the acting patriarch of the Fang Clan but he wasn’t a Golden Core expert.

At most, a Peak Qi Transformation cultivator, a realm these giants had long since eclipsed.

Zhao Ming, He Long, and Wu Shun, each was at peak Golden Core cultivator.

Their qi was vast and dense, restrained behind iron-like spiritual discipline.

Even sitting beside them made Fang Chen feel like a frog among tigers.