Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!
Chapter 68: Phungrei City [2]

Chapter 68: Phungrei City [2]

The old innkeeper peeked past the iron shoulder of a Gu guard, lips pale, eyes wide with the dread.

Fang Yuan didn’t even glance at him. He reached calmly into his robe.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Ten gold coins dropped onto the table with a soft, deliberate jingle. The sound landed heavier than thunder in the dead-quiet room.

Fang Yuan offered a warm, measured smile.

"Old man, that was the best meal I’ve had in years. I’ll come back again sometime."

Silence.

You could hear a chopstick drop.

Ten gold coins. Enough to buy the entire inn along with the servants... Twice!

The innkeeper’s jaw worked soundlessly before he stumbled forward, legs half-collapsing with every step.

"S-sir! Thank you! May your ancestors ascend to the heavens! May your digestion remain strong through ten thousand meals!"

He swept the gold off the table, eyes glistening, shoulders shaking from the weight of his good fortune and then disappeared into the backroom, weeping tears of gratitude.

The Gu guards remained rooted in place, processing what they had just seen.

One of them finally muttered,

"Who even pays like that...?"

The squad leader exhaled and straightened. His expression returned to neutral, but not without effort.

"Come with us. The captain may want a word."

Fang Yuan rose with deliberate ease, brushing a few pork crumbs from his sleeve. His movements were neither hurried nor tense.

He looked around once, taking in the stunned inn guests and the now-empty table beside him.

He tipped his head slightly, a polite gesture, not mocking, not boastful.

"Well, then. Let’s not keep the captain waiting."

The guards stepped aside to let him through, their armor clinking with every motion.

Outside, two more patrolmen joined the formation, their boots thudding against the stone as they surrounded him.

The city streets were starting to dim as dusk approached.

Lanterns flickered to life in shuttered windows, and the cool wind carried the scent of incense and roasted chestnuts.

But most eyes turned toward the strange scene: Gu soldiers escorting a bulky, gray-haired ’wanderer’ through the town center like a suspect or a celebrity.

Whispers followed.

Some guessed he was a wanted criminal.

Others swore they had seen a noble who dressed like that just to go out.

Fang Yuan, however, moved like none of it mattered.

Hands folded behind his back, expression unreadable, eyes soft and half-lidded.

He seemed like a man on a stroll through his own courtyard.

The lead guard finally broke the silence.

"You’re not worried?"

Fang Yuan didn’t bother turning his head. He simply replied:

"Should I be?"

The man blinked, as if the answer unsettled him more than any bravado might have.

He said nothing more.

But the tension shifted. Subtly.

A few guards edged closer too close for safety, too far for comfort.

Their posture changed: less formal, more poised.

Not yet hostile, but not neutral anymore.

Then came the turn.

A literal one.

Instead of continuing toward the central barracks, the guards suddenly veered off, left, into a narrow alley between two soot-streaked smithies long since abandoned.

The temperature dipped noticeably in the confined space. Moss clung to damp stone, and the faint scent of oil and rust lingered in the air.

Fang Yuan stepped into the alley without comment, eyes flicking briefly toward a crooked gutter above.

He seemed more intrigued by a sleeping cat on a roof beam than the shifting footfalls behind him.

Then... CLANG.

The harsh scrape of metal leaving sheaths shattered the quiet.

He turned, slowly.

All six guards now had blades drawn. Their once-civil faces had twisted into thin smirks and narrow eyes, greedy, sharp.

They weren’t soldiers anymore.

They were scavengers who thought they had found a plump, clueless pig walking straight into their trap.

Fang Yuan exhaled softly.

Not surprised. Not afraid.

Just... disappointed.

"You could’ve atleast waited until I finished the broth."

The lead patrolman shook his head slowly, feigning patience, though his fingers were already curling tighter around his sword hilt.

"Listen here. You and us... why don’t we settle this in a peaceful manner?"

Fang Yuan tilted his head slightly, the faint smile on his face never quite reaching his eyes.

"Go on," he said smoothly, voice light and unhurried. "I’m all ears."

But the smile, calm, unconcerned irked them more than a snarl ever could.

One of the younger guards scowled.

"You paid ten gold coins for a meal?" he sneered. "That’s suspicious. No sane man tosses that kind of gold unless it’s fake."

Another stepped forward, voice low and oily.

"So be smart, old man. Hand over the rest of your gold... let us check if it’s real."

Fang Yuan’s eyes flicked over the speaker lazily, then back to the lead patrol.

"Interesting. I wasn’t aware local guards were also part of the regional treasury inspection office."

The men didn’t like that.

The smiles dropped and the pretense cracked.

The lead patrolman’s expression sharpened like a rusted blade, all patience gone.

"You think this is a joke?" he muttered, stepping closer. His breath smelled faintly of dry herbs and wine.

"How about you hand over the rest, nicely and we won’t have to gut you and toss your body into the tannery runoff."

The others chuckled under their breath, spreading out in the narrow alley.

They were like dogs trying to corner a deer they didn’t realize was actually a tiger.

Fang Yuan didn’t move.

Nor did he blink.

But his senses spread out, brushing the walls, counting the shadows.

A silent, almost casual sweep of the surroundings.

Not because of them.

They were ants. Qi Condensation at best. Strong among mortals, sure, but—

Are you kidding me?

At half-step Hollow Spirit realm, his spiritual power could flatten all six of them with a flick of his sleeve.

He wasn’t worried about the blades in their hands, he was wondering what was behind this little setup.

Or who was watching.

His smile faded just slightly, replaced by a cool neutrality.

His hand casually dropped to the hilt of his blade, not as a threat, but as habit, like a noble resting a fan.

Fang Yuan then stared back at them.