Clan Building System: I'm not the Protagonist?!-Chapter 67: Phungrei City [1]

After that, a day passed.

During that period of time, Fang Yuan was already deep into the Northern Regions, trekking across the frost-bitten wilderness with his robes hidden beneath a thick cloak.

Though the landscape was hostile, his steps were light, carefree even.

Currently: Phungrei City.

A border town of modest size and sharp paranoia.

The banners of the Gu Household fluttered on every street, their symbol, an orchid carved onto armor, lanterns, and even the side of the local well.

He was currently disguised as a wandering middle-aged cultivator, complete with a slightly hunched posture, fake mustache, and a bulked-up frame hidden beneath padded robes.

Fang Yuan had blended in almost too well.

He didn’t look like a mere passerby. He actually looked like trouble.

And right now, Fang Yuan sat in a smoky little inn tucked between two weathered guard posts, a shallow lantern flickering overhead.

The scent of stewed pork and toasted herbs hung thick in the air.

In front of him, a fresh bowl of pork stew steamed invitingly, fat glistening on the surface, the broth rich and dark from hours of simmering bone and spice.

He lifted a piece of meat with his chopsticks, bit in slowly.

Tender. Juicy.

The kind of flavor that clung to your tongue and made your soul sigh in relief.

"Mmm... now this is what I call living," he murmured to no one in particular, savoring the bite with the exaggerated bliss of a man who look like he hadn’t tasted decent food in weeks.

Beside him, ten empty bowls, neatly stacked like trophies.

The low murmur of conversation had shifted, angled toward him like the drift of smoke.

From one corner table, a thin man whispered behind his sleeve.

"Who is that guy?"

"Dunno," came the answer from his friend, eyes darting nervously. "But judging by the sword on his back... probably a cultivator."

A pause.

Then from another table, a woman hissed quietly, tugging her friend’s sleeve.

"Hush! Cultivators have sharp ears. He might hear us..."

Someone scoffed, voice barely above breath.

"Tch. Acting so high and mighty... scamming mortals like us just to survive."

But before the words could hang too long in the air, an elder man smacked the speaker upside the head.

"Idiot. Keep your voice down. You want your house burned down?"

The room tensed briefly, then resumed pretending not to stare.

All eyes shifted again toward the lone man at the center table, still chewing calmly, still eating like he hadn’t heard a thing.

Fang Yuan let the flavor melt on his tongue, then reached for his tea.

His ears, of course, had caught everything.

Every slight.

Every whisper of pity for the poor innkeeper.

Every assumption that he would vanish without paying a coin.

He slurped the broth thoughtfully.

Then, with a jolly tone that cut across the quiet, he called out.

"Innkeeper! Another bowl, if you please!"

The room went still.

The innkeeper, half-trembling, half-resigned peeked from behind the kitchen screen.

His lips parted, maybe to ask for payment, maybe to plead mercy.

But Fang Yuan simply smiled and tapped his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl, a steady clink-clink that echoed faintly through the smoky room.

The innkeeper had begun serving him out of fear.

Then, out of doubt.

And now, just pure desperation.

From behind the kitchen screen, the man clutched an empty meat basket with both hands, fingers trembling as he leaned toward the nearest servant boy.

"H-he’s on his fourteenth bowl," he whispered, pale as flour. "At this rate, I’m going to die..."

His hands fumbled at his waist pouch.

He shoved a handful of silver coins, ten of them into the servant’s hands.

"Take this. Go call the village guards. Hurry."

The servant’s eyes widened, but he nodded and darted out the back door without a word.

The innkeeper then took a deep breath, forced the corners of his mouth up into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and stepped back into the dining room with another steaming bowl in hand.

His footsteps hesitant, his courtesy stiff and forced.

"S-second helpings, sir," he said, bowing stiffly as he set the bowl down in front of Fang Yuan.

Fang Yuan didn’t need to read minds to know what was going on but he didn’t mind either.

He had noticed the unease.

The sweat at the man’s temples. The smile just a little too tight.

But hey.. he was hungry.

And he was going to pay.

So why should he worry?

He lifted another slice of pork, bit down with visible pleasure, and let out a long, satisfied hum.

"Ah... heaven in a bowl."

The innkeeper laughed nervously.

But his fingers, clenched tightly behind his back, told a different story.

Soon after, armored boots clanked outside. The Gu Family Patrol had been summoned.

A few moments later, a figure stepped in. One of the local Gu guards, tall, iron-clad, and clearly annoyed walked toward Fang Yuan’s table, his expression unreadable but edged with suspicion.

He cleared his throat.

"Young man—"

Fang Yuan didn’t even look up.

He scooped another chunk of meat into his mouth, eyes closed in bliss, and muttered through the bite:

"Can’t you leave an old man to his own meal?"

The Gu guard paused, visibly thrown off by the low, rumbling voice and the sheer bulk of the so-called ’old man’ in front of him.

"...You’ve eaten half a month’s worth of stock."

"Mm," Fang Yuan nodded solemnly, licking his chopsticks. "It’s cold out there. I need the fat. Vital for bones."

The guard narrowed his eyes. "You’re not from Phungrei."

"I’m not from anywhere," Fang Yuan said, voice low and bored. "But I’ve left plenty of places behind."

"...Mind telling me your name?"

Fang Yuan opened one eye.

"No," he said simply. Then sipped his soup with exaggerated slowness.

The room tensed. A few other customers stopped chewing.

The Gu guard’s brow twitched.

Outside, the patrol squad was slowly circling the building. Inside, the tension had begun to rise like the steam from Fang Yuan’s last bowl. freewebnøvel_com

He licked the edge of the chopsticks.

And smiled.

Fang Yuan then set his chopsticks down and leaned back with a satisfied sigh, patting his belly like a lazy tiger after a hunt.

And then he raised his voice.

"Innkeeper!"

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