Xiao Yan: When They Targeted Me, They Didn't Care That He Was My Elder. Now They Want to Claim Kinship?

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Xiao Xun'er sat quietly beside Xiao Yan, her face still carrying that elegant, tranquil expression, but her mind was already racing.

The surname Yao. Central Plains.

Those two keywords collided in her mind, sparking countless possibilities.

There were quite a few powerful people surnamed Yao in the Central Plains, but anyone capable of taking Brother Xiao Yan as a disciple and casually giving him a seventh-tier medicinal pill could not possibly be a nobody.

She needed Ling Ying to investigate this person's background as quickly as possible—if he meant Brother Xiao Yan no harm and could benefit him, then so be it. But if he was deliberately using Brother Xiao Yan, intending to devour him as medicinal material or a cauldron...

A flash of golden light passed through Xiao Xun'er's eyes before vanishing in an instant.

Then, even if she risked being discovered by the Ancient Clan elders, she would summon people from the clan and kill him.

"Good, good, wonderful!"

Xiao Zhan abruptly rose to his feet, the excitement and joy on his face nearly overflowing. His voice trembled slightly, not from fear, but from overwhelming happiness.

"Heaven truly blesses the Xiao Clan!"

His eyes reddened.

A man who stood tall against heaven and earth had reddened eyes before everyone.

He did not find it embarrassing—his son, the good-for-nothing everyone had believed was beyond hope, had not only regained his talent but had also been accepted as the disciple of a Dou Zong powerhouse.

This honor, this opportunity—forget crying, he would willingly kneel and kowtow to Xiao Yan right then and there.

Xiao Yan was his son. The stronger his son became, the happier he was.

But the three elders seated at the head of the hall felt ice-cold all over, as though their blood had frozen.

They exchanged glances and saw the same thing in one another's eyes—fear.

Everything they had done to Xiao Yan over the past three years surged back into their minds, coiling around their hearts like venomous snakes.

Withholding cultivation resources, mocking him openly at clan meetings, secretly conspiring with the other elders to strip Xiao Yan of his position as young clan leader.

And today—today, in the hall, before honored guests, they had deliberately not left Xiao Yan a seat, intending to make him disgrace himself publicly.

One matter after another, each one a cause they had planted with their own hands.

Now that Xiao Yan had borne fruit, how were they supposed to deal with the consequences?

Before this, the three of them had still wondered what gave Xiao Yan the confidence to say such things to the Misty Cloud Sect.

A four-star Dou Practitioner, even with some talent, should never have dared to speak so arrogantly to a behemoth like the Misty Cloud Sect.

If the Misty Cloud Sect became enraged and casually sent a Dou Spirit-level expert to Wutan City, would the Xiao Clan not be doomed?

But now, their thoughts seemed utterly laughable.

A master who was at minimum a seventh-tier alchemist and at minimum a Dou Zong powerhouse.

Could the Misty Cloud Sect afford to offend such an existence?

Forget the Misty Cloud Sect—would even the entire Jia Ma Empire dare to offend a seventh-tier alchemist?

Especially one who was also a Dou Zong powerhouse.

If the Misty Cloud Sect truly dared to send someone to the Xiao Clan, then when Xiao Yan's master returned and discovered his disciple had been wronged, it would not be impossible for him to wipe out the entire Misty Cloud Sect in a fit of rage.

The backs of the three elders were already drenched in cold sweat.

A wild hope arose in their hearts—perhaps Xiao Yan would be magnanimous and not hold it against them?

After all, three years ago, had Xiao Yan not always been gentle and never held grudges?

Even when wronged, he never made a sound. Even when mocked, he never talked back. He had always seemed like a mild-tempered, kindly man.

Surely Xiao Yan would consider their shared clan ties and spare them?

After all, they were family.

After all, they were elders.

After all... Xiao Yan had once been so easy to talk to.

"Now that the guests have left."

Xiao Yan's voice came from below. Neither loud nor soft, it was like a sharp blade precisely slicing through the stagnant air in the hall.

"It is time to discuss our matters."

The hearts of the three elders sank to the bottom.

Xiao Yan sat in his chair, leaning back slightly, as relaxed as though he were sunning himself in his own backyard.

His fingers tapped the tabletop now and then, producing slow, unhurried knocking sounds, as if calculating something—or waiting for something.

The tapping was exceptionally clear in the silent hall, each knock landing on the chests of the three men.

"First Elder, Second Elder, Third Elder."

Xiao Yan named them one by one. Whenever his gaze fell upon one of them, that elder flinched slightly as if pricked by a needle.

His gaze was faint, so faint that it seemed almost emotionless. Yet it was precisely that emotionless look that made people most uneasy.

"During the three years I was in decline, didn't you think I was unworthy of my position and eagerly want to strip me of my role as young clan leader? Didn't you even want to remove my father from his position as clan leader?"

His tone was calm, so calm it was as though he were reciting a piece of history unrelated to himself.

"When Nalan Yanran mentioned the Qi-Gathering Powder earlier, your eyes all seemed awfully eager."

He smiled. The smile was light and faint, but devoid of warmth, like an exquisite mask pasted over his face to conceal every emotion beneath it.

The First Elder's hand trembled slightly, sending tiny ripples through the tea in his cup.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, only to realize he could find nothing to defend himself with.

Every word Xiao Yan had spoken was true. There was no exaggeration, no distortion.

They had indeed done those things.

The Second Elder lowered his head, staring fixedly at the tips of his shoes as though the cloth shoes bore some extraordinary pattern worthy of his full attention.

The Third Elder had already gone pale, his lips faintly blue, like a patient who had just been sentenced to death by a physician.

"Xiao Yan, my grandfather is your elder!"

A young, angry voice rang out from one side of the hall.

Xiao Ning stood up. His legs trembled slightly, but he gritted his teeth and remained standing.

His face had turned red, whether from anger, fear, or both.

He looked at Xiao Yan, his eyes filled with emotions tangled like a mess of threads—hatred, fear, unwillingness, and an indescribable sense of guilt.

"Is that how you speak to your elders?"

His voice was loud enough to echo through the entire hall.

But the louder it was, the more it revealed his lack of confidence, like a drowning man desperately flailing in an attempt to grasp his final lifeline.

Xiao Yan turned to look at Xiao Ning.

That gaze was light, light enough to be almost negligible.

Yet when it swept over Xiao Ning, it was as though an invisible hand had seized his throat, cutting his voice off abruptly.

"Cousin Xiao Ning."

Xiao Yan's tone was calm, even carrying a trace of amusement.

"Why do you know to call me by name now, instead of calling me trash?"

Xiao Ning's face instantly changed from flushed red to deathly pale.

"Xiao Yan, you—"

He did not finish.

A powerful surge of Dou Qi struck Xiao Ning in the chest like a heavy hammer. His whole body flew backward from his chair, arcing through the air before crashing heavily onto the floor of the hall.

A dull impact rang out, accompanied by the muffled sound of bone hitting stone.

Xiao Ning lay sprawled on the ground, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He could not get up for a long time.

The hall fell completely silent.

No one dared speak, no one dared move, and no one even dared breathe too loudly.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on Xiao Yan as he slowly rose from his chair and walked step by step toward Xiao Ning, who lay on the floor.

His footsteps were soft. Every step seemed measured, neither hurried nor slow, calm and composed.

Yet everyone present felt that those footsteps were stomping on their hearts, one after another, heavy and forceful.

"Xiao Ning, I call you cousin, so don't take kindness for weakness."

Xiao Yan's voice descended from above. Lying on the floor, Xiao Ning could only see those black boots patterned with gold stopping before him. A little dust clung to them, left over from his battle with Nalan Yanran in the courtyard.

"For three years, I gave you countless chances. Because you were of my clan, I did not hold it against you."

"Now, while I am speaking with the First Elder, why is a seventeen-year-old piece of trash who has not even broken through to Dou Practitioner opening his mouth?"

Xiao Ning's nails dug into the cracks between the floor tiles, his knuckles turning white as his entire body trembled. Whether from pain, anger, or fear, no one knew.

"Don't think I don't know."

Xiao Yan's voice turned cold, like a winter wind blowing down from the north, devoid of any warmth.

"Two years ago, when your grandfather joined forces with the Second Elder and Third Elder to strip me of my position as young clan leader and failed, they cut my cultivation resources instead. Those resources all ended up being used on you."

"If you had become a Dou Practitioner, I truly would not have held your actions against you over these past three years. After all, the resources were given to you, and at least you would have produced some result. That would have meant I had not suffered those grievances for nothing."

Xiao Yan crouched down until he was level with Xiao Ning. Those golden-red eyes were right before him, and Xiao Ning could even see his own wretched reflection within them.

"But you are still the same worthless trash."

The instant those two words left Xiao Yan's mouth, Xiao Ning shuddered violently, as though struck by lightning.

Trash.

He had called Xiao Yan that for three years. He had shouted it without restraint, with complete righteousness, until the entire Xiao Clan had grown accustomed to it.

He had never imagined that one day, those two words would come from Xiao Yan's mouth and be used on himself.

"And you still have the nerve to bring up elders."

Xiao Yan stood and turned toward the three elders at the head of the hall. His voice was unhurried, yet every word was like a blade.

"What, when he joined two elders in trying to strip me of my position, why didn't he remember that he was my elder?"

"When he humiliated me publicly before guests at such an important occasion as their visit to the Xiao Clan, why didn't he think of himself as my elder?"

"Now that my strength has returned, he suddenly understands that he is my elder?"

"Too late!"

The smile vanished completely from Xiao Yan's face.

He looked at the First Elder, his gaze as cold as ice. There was no anger in it, no hatred, only pure, untainted indifference.

It was the indifference of a strong man looking down upon the weak.

The First Elder's hand shook violently. At last, he failed to hold onto his teacup. It fell to the floor with a crack and shattered into several pieces.

Tea splashed onto the hem of his robe, staining it dark. He did not lower his head to look. He only stared fixedly at Xiao Yan, his lips moving several times, but in the end, not a single word came out.

Xiao Yan was not the Xiao Yan from the original story, who could so easily forgive them.

In the original story, Xiao Yan had rallied after being rejected in marriage and defeated Nalan Yanran at the Misty Cloud Sect three years later.

And then?

Then, those people who had once humiliated him gave a casual apology, and he generously forgave them.

He could not do that.

Three years of cold stares, three years of mockery, three years of humiliation—those were not things that could be erased by a single "sorry."

When he had no strength, he had acted submissively. He had endured it, telling himself that a gentleman's revenge was never too late, even after ten years.

Now that he had strength, was he supposed to keep acting submissively? Then why cultivate Dou Qi at all? He might as well go home and farm.

The First Elder took a deep breath and forcibly suppressed the surging emotions in his chest.

He raised his head and looked at Xiao Yan, his clouded old eyes filled with complexity.

"Xiao Yan, we were wrong about those matters you mentioned."

His voice was hoarse and low, as though forcibly squeezed out of his throat.

When he spoke the words "we were wrong," the skin on his face twitched, as though insects were crawling beneath it.

"Whatever you wish to do, we will accept it."

After saying that, he seemed to age ten years in an instant. His back bent, his shoulders slumped, and the imposing manner he had wielded in the Xiao Clan for decades completely dissipated.

He did not dare refuse to lower his head.

Attack Xiao Yan?

He alone was not confident he could defeat Xiao Zhan, the clan leader.

If the three elders attacked together, their strength as Great Dou Masters would make it entirely possible.

But the problem was—they had no justification.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes in the Xiao Clan were watching, watching how they had suppressed Xiao Yan for three years, how they had bullied a child.

If they attacked simply because Xiao Yan was seeking justice, then not only would Xiao Zhan refuse to accept it, even the rest of the clan would not accept it.

At that point, it would no longer be a matter of admitting fault, but of betraying the clan.

Besides, Xiao Yan dared sit there so fearlessly, settling their accounts one by one. Who knew whether he possessed some trump card left to him by that Dou Zong master?

At that thought, the First Elder's heart contracted involuntarily.

A trump card left behind by a Dou Zong powerhouse.

What kind of concept was that?

It meant that even if the three of them joined forces, even if they gave everything they had, Xiao Yan would only need to casually move a finger to reduce them to ashes.

"Very simple."

Xiao Yan's voice was neither hurried nor slow, like wind drifting from a faraway place, light and cold.

The corners of his mouth curved upward slightly into a smile—but that smile held no warmth, like a frost-covered blade in winter that stabbed painfully into the heart.

"Xiao Ning."

He spoke the first name.

Xiao Ning shuddered where he lay on the ground. He did not dare lift his head or meet Xiao Yan's eyes.

He simply lay there like a snake with its tail pinned beneath a foot, instinctively curling in on himself with nowhere to escape.

"Xiao Shi."

On the left side of the hall, a youth of seventeen or eighteen abruptly stood up. His chair toppled backward and crashed onto the floor.

His face turned ashen in that instant. His lips trembled as he tried to say something, but it was as though an invisible hand had seized his throat, leaving only a few indistinct sounds.

He looked at Xiao Yan, his eyes full of terror and pleading. Then his knees gave way, and he dropped to the ground with a thud.

"Young Master Xiao Yan, I was wrong, I was wrong! Please spare me, please..."

His voice carried a sob as he repeatedly slammed his forehead against the bluestone floor, each blow producing a dull sound.

That sound echoed through the hall, one strike after another, landing on everyone's heart.