He would ensure that.

At the same time, a flicker of calculation crossed Rong Luo's mind.

With Young Master Yun's arrival, an immediate catastrophe had been avoided—but survival alone was not enough. If he wished to remain useful, indispensable even, then he needed to prove his worth now.

Talent alone was meaningless here.

Wang Chen lacked nothing of that.

At Rong Luo's words, Li Mei's and Lin Huang's gazes also shifted toward the two sisters. Neither spoke. Neither interfered.

They simply waited.

The air grew still.

For the first time since arriving at the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo, the fate of Patriarch Fang—and everything tied to him—rested not in the hands of cultivators or clans…

…but in the trembling silence before Fang Biyu and Fang Zhirou's answer.

Lin Huang opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped.

In the end, he only shook his head.

He understood the sisters' situation better than most. He understood what it meant to be powerless, to have one's fate decided by others with smiling faces and righteous excuses. But this was not his decision to make.

Whatever choice they made, he would respect it.

As the senior disciple of the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo, he silently vowed one thing: no matter the outcome, the two sisters would not suffer for their decision. If consequences came, he would bear them with his blade.

Li Mei, on the other hand, watched the sisters with a complicated gaze.

She saw too much of herself in them.

Cultivation was already cruel. Cultivating as a woman was worse. Every step forward was accompanied by invisible shackles, expectations, and transactions disguised as protection. She clenched her fingers slightly, hoping—quietly—that the sisters would not bow their heads.

The air grew heavier.

No one spoke.

Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Then, Fang Biyu's expression changed.

The hesitation vanished.

The fear drained away.

What remained was cold clarity.

Her face turned indifferent, her eyes devoid of warmth as she spoke in a chilling, steady voice—one that carried no tremor, no doubt.

"Kill him."

The single word fell like a blade.

"Sister…?"

Fang Zhirou turned toward her, eyes wide with disbelief. Her voice trembled, unable to reconcile what she had just heard.

She knew their father's decision was cruel. She knew it stripped them of choice and dignity. But she had never believed his intentions were truly malicious. The marriage would not have harmed them directly. At least, that was what she had told herself.

Patriarch Fang felt the world collapse beneath his feet.

His face drained of all color, blood retreating as if terrified to remain. His legs nearly gave out, and for the first time in his life, he felt true fear—not of death, but of judgment.

Even Li Mei stiffened, her heart skipping a beat as she turned sharply toward Fang Biyu. A flicker of nervousness flashed through her eyes.

Rong Luo did not move.

He simply looked at Fang Biyu, his gaze steady, sharp, and unyielding—asking without words.

Are you certain?

Because once spoken, such a decision could never be taken back.

It was only when Fang Biyu nodded—slowly, firmly—that everything became irreversible.

That single motion was decisive. Absolute.

The last thread of hope snapped.

Patriarch Fang's sanity finally shattered.

"You unfilial bitch—!" he roared, his voice cracking as rage consumed him. "How can you do this to me?! Do you know how much I sacrificed for you? How much I endured for this family?!"

His eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging grotesquely as if something feral had crawled out from beneath his skin. At that moment, he no longer looked like a dignified family head, nor a caring father. He looked possessed.

If not for Rong Luo's crushing restraining pressure locking him in place, he would have already lunged forward—hands around Fang Biyu's throat, ready to tear her apart.

Yet Fang Biyu did not even look at him.

Not once.

It was as if the man screaming in front of her was nothing more than a stranger. A piece of scenery. Someone already erased from her heart.

Fang Zhirou stood frozen, her gaze darting between her crazed father and her elder sister. Confusion twisted her thoughts into knots.

Was this truly her sister?

The gentle, quiet woman who once hesitated to scold a servant… who could not even bring herself to harm a fly?

Fang Biyu turned away.

She walked forward without pause, without hesitation, without sparing Patriarch Fang another glance. Her back was straight, her steps calm, her aura distant and detached—as if she had already severed every remaining tie.

Li Mei's eyes flickered with understanding.

She had seen this scene too many times in her life.

Power did not change people—it revealed them.

Before today, Fang Biyu had been powerless, her true self buried beneath obedience, fear, and resignation. But now, with hope ignited in her heart and a path finally visible before her, everything she had suppressed surfaced all at once.

The long-suffocated resentment.

The quiet despair.

The anger she was never allowed to express.

Now, with the weight of choice finally in her hands, Fang Biyu had chosen.

And she did not look back.

Patriarch Fang's struggle grew even more frantic, his body thrashing against the invisible pressure restraining him. Spittle flew from his mouth as his face twisted into something ugly and unrecognizable.

"Fang Biyu!" he screamed hoarsely. "You're no different from your whore mother—no different at all!"

The words came faster, more venomous, as if years of rot had finally burst free.

"She had that same damned look in her eyes! Always acting pure, always pretending she was above sacrifice. What's wrong with giving something back to the family?! After everything I did for you all—everything!"

His laughter was hysterical, cracked.

"I only asked her to sleep with another man! Just once! And she dared to abandon me for it. Dared to leave! You're exactly the same—ungrateful, shameless, rotten to the core—"

He never finished the sentence.

A streak of silver light flashed through the air.

For a split second, silence reigned.

Then Patriarch Fang's head separated cleanly from his body, spinning once before dropping heavily to the ground with a dull, final thud. Blood sprayed upward like a broken fountain before raining down, painting the earth in violent red.

Rong Luo slowly withdrew his blade.

He let out a low sigh, his expression grim, eyes burning with restrained fury. He had ended it decisively, before the poison in that man's mouth could fester further, before the situation could spiral into something even uglier.

He had seen it—the barely perceptible pause in Fang Biyu's steps when those words were spoken.

There was more buried beneath the surface. Far more.

…

Inside the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo, Wang Chen was leisurely examining the contents of the storage ring when his lips twitched faintly.

"So not just a terrible father," he mused flatly, "but a complete piece of filth."

A man like that didn't love his family. He only loved control. Everything else was just an excuse wrapped in righteousness.

Wang Chen was about to lose interest entirely when his eyes suddenly sharpened.

Something inside the ring caught his attention.

His heartbeat skipped.

"A beast contract…?"

For the first time since opening the ring, genuine interest flickered across Wang Chen's face.

Now that was useful.

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