Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!
Chapter 65: Wu Min [2]

Chapter 65: Wu Min [2]

Fang Mei’s eyes flashed.

With no further words, she pushed off the ground.

Swift Step Footwork.

Under her control, she moved like lightning cloaked in silk.

She vanished in a blur, the ground cracking faintly beneath her as her momentum surged forward.

One step, two steps, each one tighter and faster than the last, barely visible to the untrained eye.

A streak of silver and scarlet swept across the stage, her sword raised, burning with residual flame from the earlier exchange.

Wind howled in her wake, spinning her long sleeves like battle flags.

Wu Min’s gaze tracked her calmly.

"Fast," she muttered and then bent backward with impossible grace, letting Fang Mei’s sword skim past a hair’s breadth from her nose.

Fang Mei twisted in mid-air, landing low and sliding to the side, skidding in an arc before rebounding again.

She spun, blade gleaming.

Tyrant Light Sword—First Form: Divine Line!

This time she got the words out, her sword erupted with a focused beam of light, pure and piercing, tearing through the air in a straight shot toward Wu Min.

Wu Min leaned into the movement, spiritual energy weaving around her limbs as she snapped her arms wide.

Tiger Mirage Step, an evasive technique of the Wu Clan.

She shimmered, once, twice and reappeared at Fang Mei’s flank, palm already cocked back.

"Let’s see how many of those forms you’ve got," she whispered playfully—

And launched another slap.

CLANG!

Fang Mei’s sword snapped up in a clean, practiced arc, not to slash, but to parry.

Palm met steel, and a shockwave cracked through the air like thunder.

Fang Mei parried the slap.

Steel met palm with a sharp crack that echoed across the arena.

Wu Min’s eyes widened. "You blocked it?"

Fang Mei didn’t answer. Her stance held firm, knees slightly bent, sword trembling faintly from the force of the impact but she stood her ground.

Cheeks still tinged red from earlier embarrassment, she managed a tight grin.

"I’m not letting you slap me twice."

A ripple of laughter traveled through the crowd, but Wu Min’s expression only grew more focused.

She stepped back, one foot sliding softly against the polished marble.

"It’s rare," she murmured. "Only two people have ever seen through our clan’s Mirage Slap technique."

Her gaze narrowed, the wind catching her sleeves like battle flags.

"The other one... was Fang Yuan."

Before Fang Mei could respond, Wu Min blurred into motion.

"Five Elements Fist!"

Her right fist lit up like a forge: flame danced around her thumb knuckle, wind spiraled along her index, and earth crystallized along her middle fingers.

The punch chain that followed was a masterwork of elemental fusion, fiery jabs, slicing gusts, pounding strikes that thundered with stone.

Boom. Boom. BOOM!

Fang Mei’s blade blurred into motion, whirlwind arcs of silver light. Each swing was exact, controlled.

Not just parrying the blows, dispersing their elemental fury. A flaming strike crashed against the sword’s flat and fizzled out.

A wind-infused punch curved around her shoulder, only to be cut down mid-path.

An earth-clad strike smashed the floor beneath her, cracking marble but she slid with the shockwave, absorbing the momentum instead of resisting it.

The crowd collectively leaned forward, gasping.

"She’s keeping up!"

"She blocked the Mirage Slap and now this?!"

Wu Min’s breath caught, not from fatigue, but from sheer delight.

"You’re not like the others," she murmured, a slow, thrilled grin forming on her lips. "This just got interesting."

Fang Mei exhaled lightly, her eyes shining with battle-fueled clarity.

"You call that interesting?"

She twisted her wrist, blade pointed skyward as it began to glow.

"Then let’s take it up a notch."

Tyrant Light Sword—Second Form: Star Form!

Her sword pulsed and three brilliant arcs of light erupted from the blade.

But these weren’t mere beams they were arcing, intelligent, slicing through the air with curved trajectories.

One soared from above like a falling comet; two more came in from opposing sides, spiraling and tightening their angle like predator hawks in formation.

Wu Min’s pupils shrank.

That wasn’t just swordplay, it was suppressive force. The kind that could level a stage.

It felt like a golden core cultivator’s pressure.

But she didn’t retreat.

Her arms glowed with fiery runes.

"Clan Final Style!"

Her hands slashed through the air, drawing out a luminous symbol.

Two ethereal tigers, wrought from roaring wind and orange-gold qi burst from her arms, charging forward with furious howls.

The beams and tigers collided midair..

BOOOOOOM!!!

A deafening burst of light and force tore across the stage.

Wind howled outward in a giant ring-shaped shockwave, slamming into the barriers.

Dust and marble shards rose into a dense mist.

A dome of light formed, then slowly peeled away like a melting lotus.

Silence followed.

And then they saw the silhouettes.

Both girls still standing.

Fang Mei’s hair was a little frazzled, the hem of her robes scorched.

A cut traced her left sleeve.

Her breathing was calm but heavier.

Wu Min wiped a trickle of blood from her lip.

One gauntlet cracked, and her stance was slightly crooked but her eyes gleamed like twin stars.

Both smiling.

Fang Mei rolled her shoulder.

Wu Min cracked her knuckles.

"I like you," she said at last, grinning like a tiger discovering a worthy rival.

Meanwhile, up at the viewing booth—

A ripple of silence swept through the five family heads.

Fang Chen blinked once, then again. His brows twitched.

Third form? But she hasn’t even perfected the second yet... How did she—

His jaw tightened.

How did she learn the third form without mastering the second? That’s supposed to be impossible...!

Wu Shun on the side stiffened, his fan pausing mid-flutter.

Another one? The Fang Clan has another monster who can counter the Wu techniques?

Zhao Ling leaned forward, brows creasing.

Late-stage Qi Transformation? That girl was mid-stage Qi Condensation during Fang head’s 30th birthday. Did they all eat some divine herb recently?

He Song’s expression soured, his fingers drumming on the armrest.

The Fang juniors were supposed to be slow-witted and safe to ignore. So where the hell are all these monsters coming from?!

And Matriarch Lin—

She simply raised her teacup, a faint smile playing at her lips as she continued sipping with delight.