Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!-Chapter 37: Fang Tian [2]

Fang Tian stepped out of the study, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

He wandered through the still courtyards of the Phoenix Soul Pavilion, letting his feet carry him aimlessly beneath the soft hush of swaying silk lanterns and the rustle of wind through peach blossoms.

Eventually, he came to a stop beside the koi pond.

Servants were finishing their morning task, tossing small pinches of spirit feed into the water.

The koi darted beneath the surface, flashes of orange, white, and gold rippling like sunlight through glass.

Fang Tian stood in silence, hands behind his back, gaze fixed on the fish.

Then, without warning, he turned and briskly walked to a shaded corner behind the pavilion. freeweɓnovel~cѳm

There, he doubled over and vomited.

It wasn’t graceful.

When it was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, letting out a long exhale.

"Hah... brother surely knows how to concoct poison," he muttered to himself with a crooked grin. "What a truly unmatched talent..."

Just then, the simple iron ring tied around his neck pulsed faintly with light.

A voice echoed directly into his mind, wry, ancient, and unmistakably amused.

"Tian. Are you secretly a masochist?"

Fang Tian choked on the air and spun around, eyes wide.

He darted a glance left, then right. The koi-feeding servants had already departed, their footsteps fading down the stone path.

Luckily no one had heard the voice or seen him.

"...Teacher Qin Shi Huang?" he whispered, tugging the ring up slightly.

The ancient soul sealed within chuckled softly.

"You knew that tea was brewed with spiritual bitterness root and molten elderleaf bark. Your brother clearly despises it himself, and yet... you asked him to make it."

Fang Tian let out a defeated sigh and made his way back to the pond.

He sat down at the edge, feet dangling into the cool, clear water. The koi swam lazily around his legs, unfazed by his presence.

"Because that’s just who he is..." Fang Tian said softly, resting his elbows on his knees. "That’s what my brother’s always been."

The smile that touched his lips then was quiet. Distant.

"When Mother and Father died... I was still a child and so was he. But he—he didn’t cry."

He paused, watching the water ripple gently beneath his toes.

"He didn’t even weep... not in front of anyone. The day Uncle Chen came back carrying their bodies, my brother came looking for me like the world was crumbling beneath his feet.

His face was pale, his hands shaking, but the moment he saw me, he straightened his back like he could hold up the sky if I needed him to.

He was hurting but he smiled at me anyway.

Like I was the one who needed protecting."

Fang Tian’s voice dropped, barely above a whisper.

"That day... he became the wall I could lean on."

"He buried them with his own hands. He stood between the elders and me when they started whispering about who’d inherit what.

And then growing up, he cooked for me. He bathed me and even trained me. He never once told me or show me that he was tired."

A small laugh escaped him, dry and soft.

"I knew he was exhausted. But he never let it show. Not even once."

The ring was quiet for a moment, before speaking again, this time, more gently.

"You admire him deeply."

Fang Tian nodded. "I do."

He leaned back, arms sprawled behind him, face tilted toward the cloudless sky.

"He pretends to be cold on the outside. And he is damn good at it. But I’ve never known anyone more dependable than my brother."

He closed his eyes, letting the breeze rustle his hair.

"That’s why... even if he handed me the worst tea on the continent, I’d still drink it again."

A soft chuckle escaped him—warm, a little self-mocking.

"Because that’s the only kind he knows how to make. Bitter, clumsy... but brewed with that same tired care he’s always had. The kind that hides everything he’s feeling beneath a quiet routine."

He opened one eye, watching the koi swirl lazily in the pond.

"I grew up drinking that tea. Honestly, it’s a miracle I haven’t died of poisoning by now."

The koi stirred beneath the surface, gliding in lazy arcs.

Fang Tian smiled faintly.

"...Still tastes like death, though."

The koi stirred again beneath Fang Tian’s feet, casting shimmering reflections onto the pavilion walls.

For a moment, only the wind replied.

Then the ancient voice returned, deeper now, edged with something more solemn.

"In all my centuries of watching emperors, generals, and geniuses rise and fall... I have seen many strong men."

The ring pulsed once, like a heartbeat of old memories.

"But rarely have I seen strength wielded with such restraint."

Fang Tian cracked one eye open, brow raised. "Huh?"

"Your brother," Qin Shi Huang said, tone even. "He does not lead through fear. Nor through grandeur. And yet... you follow him willingly. As do many."

Fang Tian gave a half-smile. "Of course I do."

"Most patriarchs I’ve known demanded loyalty," the voice continued.

"He earns it. Piece by piece. Burden by burden. Quietly."

There was a long pause then something unexpected.

A quiet hum, almost thoughtful.

"He reminds me of myself."

Fang Tian blinked, incredulous. "Teacher... are you comparing yourself to my brother?"

"Yes. And no." The voice that echoed from the ring held a glint of amusement now, tinged with something deeper—respect, perhaps.

"In my prime, I built empires through sword and decree. I conquered with strength and made sure the world knew it. I wore my achievements like armor—visible, undeniable.

But your brother... he hides his."

Fang Tian’s brows knit slightly.

The koi stirred in the pond below, casting rippling gold patterns across his boots.

The voice in the ring continued, slower this time, as though each word carried weight forged in ancient fires.

"Your brother is already at the peak of the Nascent Soul Realm."

Fang Tian’s head snapped up.

"Yes, Tian. Peak Nascent Soul. Likely for some time now."

A pause. The water stilled.

"Tell me—what do you think would’ve happened if he’d revealed that from the start?"

Fang Tian didn’t answer.

"Would his life not be easier?" Qin Shi Huang went on, rhetorical now.

"If others knew, truly knew, that he stood at the summit of power, would they not tremble to defy him?

Would rival clans dare plot against him? Would those treacherous elders have plotted so easily?"

Fang Tian’s jaw tightened. "Then why hide it?"

The ancient emperor’s voice grew quiet.

"Because fear demands obedience. But it does not build loyalty."

"Your brother chose the harder path." The voice dropped lower, more thoughtful. "He did not want subjects who cowered before him, but a family that rose with him.

He let others underestimate him so he could see who stood with him when they thought him vulnerable."

"And in doing so, he lost much." A long pause. "But what remains... may yet be unshakable."

Fang Tian sat in silence, the koi circling his submerged feet like flickers of gold in a quiet dream.

And then he chuckled, soft and warm as he leaned back fully, arms spread to the sky, letting the sunlight pour over his face.

"Guess I better work harder, huh? Don’t want him carrying all of it alone."

The ring didn’t respond immediately—but when it did, the voice was quieter.

"That is loyalty, Tian. And loyalty... is what gives kings peace."

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