Chapter 8: Fake Realm.
Fang Yuan stood in place for one breath longer than necessary.
Then, with an elegant wave of his sleeve and a measured smile, he faced the remaining guests.
"Well then," he said warmly, as though nothing strange had happened at all, "though the banquet was... unexpectedly lively, I must thank all of you for coming to celebrate my birthday."
Some chuckled. Others gave polite nods.
Fang Yuan clapped lightly.
"Mei’er, Tian, see that our guests receive their parting gifts. I had the boxes prepared personally—may the heavens grant that they taste better than Tushan’s cooking."
A few elders laughed at that, the tension loosening slightly.
Elder Wu muttered into his cup, "The boy still knows how to close a scene."
Elder Lin stood, smoothing his sleeves with grace. "Your hospitality is appreciated, Clan Head Fang. May Fang Family remain calm under your watch."
Elder Zhao nodded and followed without another word, while Elder He simply muttered, "Hmph," and limped out, though there might’ve been a smirk beneath that beard.
As the guests slowly filed out, carrying silken-wrapped gift boxes filled with spirit teas, frost-lotus pastries, and a bottle of Coldwind Brew each, Fang Yuan remained at the door to personally bow to every single one.