Strongest Family System

The Walker clan's castle was glowing in the early morning light. Its polished stone caught the first rays of dawn as its spires penetrated the sky like spears of obsidian. Crimson flags embroidered with the clan's emblem, an iron wolf under a crescent moon, fluttered in the cool breeze along the walls.

From the courtyards to the kitchens, servants hurried with disciplined precision, their hands full of porcelain dishes, gilded trays, and steaming pots. The aroma of roasted meats, seasoned veggies, and pleasant lotus wine filled the air, signaling the importance of the day.

Today was no ordinary gathering. Today, the clan leader of Celestial Brook had been summoned.

Zilton Walker stood at the castle gates, tall and broad-shouldered. Following him was his long, silver, and black cloak, which was collared with wolf fur. His keen eyes searched the horizon for signs of approaching carriages, where dust stirred on the roads. Elders Tom, Rain, and Mara waited behind him, their faces solemn. Despite their clan's air of assurance, Zilton was aware that they would be watched all day by suspicious and watchful eyes.

The head of the Brooks clan, Lady Seraphina Brooks, was the first to arrive. Her golden-trimmed, lacquered green carriage rolled to a stop. Her hair was pinned with jade ornaments as she stepped down elegantly, her emerald robe flowing like water. Though her smile was soft, her eyes were as sharp as glass.

"Clan Head Zilton," she greeted. "Your summons was… Unexpected."

"Lady Seraphina," Zilton also greeted, his tone even. "You honor us with your presence."

Her lips curved faintly, but the narrowing of her eyes betrayed unease.

Moments later, two more carriages appeared. From the first emerged Darius Clark, the leader of the Clark clan. His frame was broad, his beard trimmed to perfection, and his robe of dark indigo was embroidered with thunderbolts. He clasped Zilton's arm firmly, but his voice carried the faintest edge.

"Walker Clan's gates rarely open for such meetings. What has stirred you so, Zilton?"

From the second carriage descended the Brown clan's head, Eldric Brown, a man of quiet demeanor with sharp hawk-like features. He wore a robe of muted bronze, and though he spoke little as he offered his greeting, his piercing gaze lingered on Zilton longer than courtesy demanded.

Finally, a carriage of Grey Shadow Hall entered through the gates. At their head walked Elder Veylan Lee, his silver hair gleaming, his presence calm but commanding. At her side was Lady Paige Lee, her aura unmistakable, her cultivation a silent warning to all present. Behind them were attendants and scribes.

Zilton inclined his head deeply to them both. "Elder Veylan. Lady Paige. Your presence honors my clan."

Elder Veylan gave a measured nod. "Let us hear the reason for this gathering."

Inside the grand hall, torches burned with steady light, casting long shadows across marble floors. The long banquet table had been prepared, yet few touched the food. The air was thick, not with hunger but with suspicion.

Once all had taken their seats—each clan head and Grey Shadow Hall's envoys—Zilton stood at the head of the table. His voice carried a steady and commanding tone.

"Brothers and sisters of Celestial Brook. You know me well. I am not a man to summon you without cause. What I bring today concerns us all—the upcoming Four-Clan Competition."

A murmur spread immediately.

Elder Garan of the Walkers smirked, but others—Lady Seraphina, Darius Clark, and Eldric Brown—watched with cautious silence.

Zilton continued, letting the weight of his words sink in. "This year, I propose a change. The Osborn clan, though not of Celestial Brook by birthright, shall be included in the competition."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Lady Seraphina's brows arched elegantly. "The Osborn clan? From the Magical City?" Her tone was soft, but suspicion edged every syllable. "You would raise outsiders to the same stage as us?"

Darius Clark leaned forward, his heavy fist resting on the table.

"Osborns… I have heard whispers. Small family, barely surviving, yet recently… Unusual fortune. Why, Zilton? Why now?"

Eldric Brown's voice, quiet but sharp, cut through. "This is no small request. To change the traditions of the Four-Clan Competition on a whim…" His eyes narrowed. "There must be a reason."

Zilton met their gazes in turn. His posture was calm, but a storm churned beneath his words. "Reason, indeed. The Osborns are no longer small. They have shown resilience, strength… And the protection of powers yet unnamed. To ignore them would be folly. To test them, however—before all, on the arena floor—would reveal much."

Lady Paige of Grey Shadow Hall tilted her head. "Test them… Or destroy them?"

Zilton's lips curved faintly. "A stage is a stage. What happens within it… Is the will of fate."

Elder Veylan's eyes narrowed. "Walker Clan does not summon all others merely for fate. Speak plain, Zilton."

The hall grew heavier, each elder waiting. Zilton allowed the silence to stretch, then finally answered:

"The Osborns have provoked the Walkers. One of our spies near the Magical City vanished without a trace. Not slain, not captured—erased.

This… Cannot be ignored. Yet Grey Shadow law forbids crossing within the sanctuary walls. Thus, the competition offers the perfect solution. On the stage, no law binds us but the rules of combat."

The weight of his words hung thick.

Lady Seraphina's fan flicked open, hiding half her expression. "So that is it. A trap dressed as tradition."

Darius Clark frowned, tapping the table. "To risk tradition for vengeance… Dangerous."

Eldric Brown's voice was flat. "And yet… Intriguing."

Elder Veylan exhaled slowly, fingers steepled. "The Hall does not sanction petty blood feuds. Yet… if the clans agree, and if combat remains within the bounds of competition, the Hall will not intervene." His gaze sharpened on Zilton. "But if you seek to twist the stage into a slaughterhouse, remember—the Hall watches."

Zilton bowed slightly, though his eyes gleamed. "Of course. All within the rules."

Suspicion still lingered. Lady Seraphina's gaze flicked to the others. "I will not oppose it. But mark my words, Zilton—the Osborns' inclusion will shift balances. And balance has teeth."

Darius Clark leaned back, stroking his beard. "Very well. Let them come. We shall see if whispers of their strength are smoke… Or fire."

Eldric Brown gave a slow nod. "Agreed. But my clan will watch closely."

Elder Veylan finally nodded. "Then it is settled. The Osborn clan will participate."

Zilton inclined his head, victory hidden behind calm. "Then one matter remains. Since the Osborns dwell within the Magical City, let Grey Shadow Hall be the one to inform them."

All eyes turned to the Hall's representatives.

Lady Paige's lips pressed together, suspicion bright in her gaze. "You would place this task upon us?"

Zilton's smile was faint and polite. "It is proper. The Grey Shadow Hall governs the Magical City. No clan may cross its authority. To summon the Osborns into this competition… Only your voice carries weight enough."

A silence stretched. Elder Veylan finally nodded once. "Very well. Grey Shadow Hall will inform the Osborns."

The agreement hung in the air, but the silence that followed was not relief. It was suspicion—thick, unspoken, and sharp as a blade yet to be drawn.

Zilton smiled, but in every corner of the room, the eyes of Seraphina Brooks, Darius Clark, Eldric Brown, and Grey Shadow Hall glinted with doubt.

The decision had been made. But trust had not.

And outside, beyond the flags and towers of the Walker clan castle, storm clouds gathered unseen.

The great hall of the Walker clan slowly emptied, its echoes fading into silence. Servants cleared away untouched dishes, the scent of lotus wine lingering like a memory of tensions not spoken aloud. Carriages rumbled out through the castle gates one by one, bearing the Brooks, Clark, and Brown clans back to their own strongholds.

The Grey Shadow Hall delegation departed last, their silver-embroidered robes catching the faint light of dusk as they rode toward Celestial Brook.

Inside their carriage, Elder Veylan Lee sat in thoughtful silence. Lady Paige sat opposite him, her fan resting unopened across her lap, her sharp eyes betraying what her calm posture did not: unease. When the carriage wheels finally rolled over the threshold of Grey Shadow Hall's compound, Veylan exhaled deeply, as though releasing the weight of the meeting.

"Delvin," he said at last, turning to the younger elder who had accompanied them from the Magical City.

Elder Delvin, seated at the far end, straightened immediately. "Yes, Elder Veylan?"

"You will return immediately to the Magical City. Inform the Osborn clan of the decision made today. Tell him the Osborn clan has been chosen to participate in the Four-Clan Competition. Explain the rules, the stakes, and the dangers. Make certain he understands."

Delvin's brows furrowed slightly, but he bowed without hesitation. "As you command."

Lady Paige closed her fan with a snap. "Choose your words carefully, Delvin. The Walkers' motives are not as simple as they claimed. Do not give Osborn false comfort."

Delvin inclined his head. "I will not."

Veylan gave him one last measuring look, then nodded. "Go."

With that, Elder Delvin stepped down from the carriage, his robes sweeping across the cobblestones. Within moments, he was mounted on a spirit horse, its mane flickering faintly with silver qi.

He rode quickly through Celestial Brook's streets, past alleys lit by lanterns and busy marketplaces that were just starting to go silent for the evening. Once he crossed the outer gates, the road opened, and his pace quickened.

The journey to the Magical City was short for one of his cultivations. Half an hour later, the shimmering walls of the magical city came into view, their protective arrays glowing faintly against the evening sky. Delvin slowed only enough to pass the guards, offering a nod of recognition as he entered.

Inside, the city thrummed with life—vendors closing their stalls, disciples hurrying between sect pavilions, and the faint hum of formations alive in the air. Delvin moved through it all with practiced ease, his mind fixed on the task ahead.

Soon, the gates of the Osborn compound rose before him. Lanterns hung on either side, casting warm circles of light on the polished stone. Guards at the entrance stiffened at his arrival but bowed quickly when they recognized his robes.