The following morning, the stewards of both the Zhao branch and House Peng arrived at the Wan Clan gates with heavy escorts and carts loaded with silver.
The air was thick with tension as the representatives were led into the main courtyard under heavy watch.
The Zhao steward Feng looked exhausted and furious, his usual smugness replaced by barely contained rage.
The Peng Patriarch appeared utterly defeated, his shoulders slumped and eyes red-rimmed from a sleepless night of worry.
Tianqi stood on the raised platform with Mu Ronghua beside him, her elegant hand resting lightly on his shoulder.
The Matriarch’s expression was serene and graceful, though a faint, satisfied gleam lingered in her alluring eyes from the previous night’s private work.
Feng stepped forward first, his voice strained but loud.
“We have brought the demanded payment.
Double the claimed debt, delivered in full silver as you required.
Every coin is accounted for.
Now release our people immediately.”
The Peng Patriarch followed, bowing low despite his humiliation.
His voice cracked as he spoke.
“Everything you asked for is here.
The silver, the signed agreements withdrawing all claims, and the full list of contacts.
Please…
return my wife and daughter.
They have suffered enough.”
Tianqi remained silent for a long moment, letting the weight of their complete submission settle over the courtyard.
The morning sun cast long shadows across the assembled groups, highlighting the contrast between the once-arrogant visitors and the now-dominant Wan Clan.
Finally, he nodded once.
“You have learned your place.
The Wan Clan does not forget insults, but we honor our word when terms are met.”
At his signal, guards brought forward the captured individuals.
The two young Zhao children were released first.
They ran quickly to their escorts, trembling but physically unharmed.
The Zhao representatives exhaled in visible relief, though their eyes still burned with hatred.
Then came the Peng ladies.
Lady Peng and Peng Mei were brought out last, supported by Wan guards.
Their bodies were covered in simple robes, but the signs of their ordeal were impossible to hide — bruises on their arms and faces, exhaustion in their posture, and a haunted look in their eyes.
They moved slowly, clearly in pain, but alive and mostly intact.
The Peng Patriarch rushed forward with a choked sob, catching his wife as she nearly collapsed.
“My love…
my daughter…
what have they done to you?”
Lady Peng could barely speak, her voice hoarse and broken.
“Just take us home…
please…
no more…”
Peng Mei said nothing, her gaze empty as she was handed over to her father.
Tears streamed silently down her face.
Feng glared at Tianqi but held his tongue as the Zhao children were safely returned.
“The main family will hear of this outrage,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Tianqi to hear.
Tianqi finally spoke, his voice calm and authoritative.
“You came demanding repayment and threatening my clan.
I have shown you mercy by returning most of your people largely unharmed.
Consider this a lesson.
The next time you challenge the Wan Clan, the price will be far higher.”
Mu Ronghua added softly, her tone elegant and chilling.
“Remember this day.
My son is merciful.
I am not.”
The stewards and escorts quickly gathered their people and the heavy chests of silver.
They departed under the watchful eyes of Wan Clan guards, the carriages moving swiftly away from the residence.
The courtyard fell quiet once the last of them disappeared through the gates.
Tianqi turned to Mu Ronghua, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Now is the time for the next step.”
XXXX
Rumours and outrage spread like wildfire across Jiangling City in the hours and days following the delivery of the ornate boxes.
The shocking news traveled from the gates of the Zhao branch compound and the Peng family estate into the bustling markets, crowded teahouses, merchant guild halls, and even the quieter residential districts.
By midday, it seemed as though every citizen in the trade hub had heard some version of the events.
In the central market square, where silk merchants and spice traders normally haggled loudly, clusters of people gathered around storytellers and gossiping vendors.
A middle-aged silk trader slammed his hand on a stall table, his face red with anger.
“Hundreds of heads!
Can you believe it?
The Wan Clan sent back the heads of loyalists in fancy boxes like gifts.
All because those greedy fools from Zhao and Peng tried to bully them over old debts.”
A woman selling herbal remedies nearby nodded vigorously.
“My cousin works near the Zhao branch.
She said the branch head is hiding inside his compound now, too scared to show his face.
The loyalists were good people, just doing their jobs.
Now their families are mourning because of the patriarch’s arrogance.
The Zhao main family should remove that useless branch head immediately!”
Similar conversations erupted in the teahouses along the river.
In one popular establishment, a group of minor merchants sat around a large table, their voices rising with outrage.
One of them, a thin man with a goatee, slammed his teacup down.
He dragged his entire family into this mess.
His own wife and daughter were taken, and instead of protecting them, he provoked the Wan Clan.
Now hundreds are dead, and for what?
Greed?
The man should be stripped of his position and exiled.
How many more have to die because of his stupidity?”
An older merchant leaned in, lowering his voice but still loud enough for nearby tables to hear.
“They say the Wan Clan knew every name on the secret loyalist lists.
Only the heads knew those details.
Someone betrayed them from within, or the Wan Clan has eyes everywhere.
Either way, the Zhao branch head and Peng Patriarch are finished.
Their own people are turning against them.
I heard workers refusing to load caravans until the leaders are removed.”
Public sentiment shifted rapidly against the two patriarchs.
In the guild halls, petitions began circulating.
Merchants who had once feared or tolerated the Zhao branch’s aggression now openly called for accountability.
“The Zhao branch head brought this massacre upon us,” one guild elder declared during an emergency meeting.
“His reckless demands led to the deaths of hundreds of our colleagues.
The main Zhao family must remove him before more blood is spilled.
We cannot afford to be associated with such incompetence.”
At the Peng family estate, the outrage was even more personal.
Surviving family members and retainers gathered in the main hall, voices raised in anger and grief.
A cousin of the Peng Patriarch shouted, “You have destroyed us!
Hundreds dead, our reputation ruined, and your wife and daughter still recovering from whatever horrors the Wan Clan inflicted.
Step down!
Let someone competent lead before we lose everything!”
The Peng Patriarch sat slumped in his chair, pale and broken.
“I…
I thought we could pressure them.
I never imagined…”
His words were drowned out by furious shouts.
“You never imagine!
That is the problem!
Remove him!
Remove him now!”
Similar scenes played out across the city.
In the poorer districts where many of the executed loyalists had families, mourning turned quickly to rage.
Women wailed in the streets while their neighbours cursed the names of the Zhao branch head and Peng Patriarch.
“They sacrificed our husbands and sons for pride!” one widow screamed.
“Let them pay with their positions if not their lives!”
Neutral merchant houses that had been watching the conflict carefully began distancing themselves.
Many sent discreet messages of congratulations to the Wan Clan while publicly calling for the removal of the offending leaders.
“The Wan Clan has shown strength and mercy,” one prominent neutral trader announced in a guild meeting.
“They returned most of the people unharmed.
The fault lies entirely with the warmongers who provoked them.
For the good of Jiangling’s trade, both the Zhao branch head and Peng Patriarch must be replaced.”
By evening, the city was in an uproar.
Petitions with hundreds of signatures demanding leadership changes were being prepared.
Whispers of the Wan Clan’s power and the new Patriarch’s ruthlessness mixed with admiration.
Tianqi’s calculated strike had not only eliminated immediate threats but had turned public opinion sharply in his favour.
In the Wan Clan residence, Tianqi and Mu Ronghua received continuous reports.
Tianqi smiled with satisfaction as he reviewed the latest updates.
“The seeds we planted are bearing fruit faster than expected.
Their own people are calling for their removal.”
XXXX
The Peng Patriarch sat alone in the dimly lit inner chamber of his family estate, the weight of the day’s events crushing him.
The ornate boxes had been burned, but the memory of their contents haunted every corner of the residence.
Servants moved like ghosts, afraid to speak above a whisper.
The air was thick with grief and fear.
When his wife and daughter were finally returned to him, the Peng Patriarch broke completely.
Lady Peng could barely walk, her body marked with bruises and needle wounds that told a story of methodical suffering.
Peng Mei, once vibrant and ambitious, stared at the floor with empty eyes, her spirit shattered.
The Patriarch fell to his knees before them, tears streaming down his face as he reached out trembling hands.
“My love…
my daughter…” His voice cracked, raw with anguish.
“What have I done?
What have I brought upon you?”
Lady Peng collapsed into his arms, sobbing weakly.
“It was horrible…
that woman…
the Matriarch…
she enjoyed it.
She kept saying it was for her son.
She called us tools, threats to her precious Tianqi.
I begged…
we both begged…”
Right in front of us.
The Patriarch and his own mother.
They are monsters.
We never should have challenged them.”
The Peng Patriarch held them both, rocking gently as his own tears fell.
“I was greedy.
I thought we could gain power by siding with Zhao.
I never imagined they would strike back like this.
Hundreds dead.
Our loyalists gone.
And you…
my precious family…
reduced to this.”
He cried openly, deep wracking sobs that echoed through the chamber.
Servants peeked in but quickly retreated, unable to bear the sight of their once-proud leader reduced to this state.
The Peng Patriarch spoke between sobs, apologizing repeatedly to his wife and daughter.
“Forgive me…
I failed you both.
I failed our entire family.
The Wan Clan…
that devil Tianqi…
he played us perfectly.
The public is turning against me.
They blame me for the deaths.
They want me removed.”
Lady Peng clutched his robes.
“We must leave.
Tonight.
Before they decide we are still useful as examples.
I cannot endure more.
Our daughter cannot endure more.”
Peng Mei nodded weakly.
“Father…
please.
Take us away from this city.”
The decision was made in the dead of night.
Under cover of darkness, the Peng Patriarch gathered his closest surviving family members and a small number of loyal servants.
They fled Jiangling with only what they could carry, abandoning most of their wealth and properties.
The once-ambitious house slipped away like thieves, broken and humiliated, heading toward distant relatives in hopes of rebuilding far from the Wan Clan’s reach.
Meanwhile, at the Zhao branch compound, the reaction was one of pure rage rather than despair.
The Zhao branch head paced furiously in his private study, servants and advisors watching nervously.
“That brat!” he roared, slamming his fist on the table.
“That arrogant little Wan whelp dares to humiliate us like this?
Kidnapping our children?
Sending us the heads of our loyalists?
I will kill him myself!”
He turned to his wife and children, who had been safely returned earlier.
“Pack your things.
You are all going to the capital tonight.
The main family must be informed in person.
Tell them what this devil has done.
I will stay here and deal with him personally.”
His wife protested.
“Husband, it is too dangerous.
The Wan Clan has shown they can strike anywhere.”
The branch head’s eyes burned with vengeance.
“Exactly why you must leave.
I will not risk you again.
I will kill that brat.
I swear it on our family name.
The Zhao Clan will not tolerate this insult.
When the main family hears the full story, they will support me.
Tianqi’s days are numbered.”
Preparations were made quickly.
Under heavy guard, the branch head’s family departed for the imperial capital that very night, carrying detailed reports and the severed heads as proof of the Wan Clan’s brutality.
The branch head remained behind, surrounded by his remaining forces, plotting his revenge.
The city woke the next morning to news of the Peng family’s sudden flight and the Zhao branch head’s defiant vows.
Public outrage mixed with fear and speculation.
The Wan Clan’s power seemed more absolute with every passing hour.
Tianqi received the reports in his study with Mu Ronghua at his side.
A cold, satisfied smile touched his lips.
End of Chapter 19
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