Youran had woken up with such clarity, such hunger. How could she bring back this?
"No," Bing whispered, grabbing the edge of the table to pull herself up. "He said... he said if I don't bring it, he will come himself."
"Let him come!" another maid jeered, chopping vegetables aggressively. "I'd like to see that cripple crawl all the way here. We could use the entertainment!"
The kitchen staff roared with laughter again. Cui raised her hand for another slap, her palm glowing with a faint, dirty yellow light. She intended to leave a mark that would last a week.
"STOP!"
The command rolled through the kitchen like a clap of thunder.
The laughter died instantly. The fires seemed to dim.
Standing at the kitchen entrance, framed by the morning sun, was an old man. He wore robes of dark grey silk embroidered with silver clouds.
His hands were clasped behind his back, and his beard was long and white. But it was his eyes, sharp, eagle-like, and burning with fury that froze the blood of everyone in the room.
It was the Second Elder, Lu Changfeng. The Disciple Hall Master.
He was a man who cared for nothing but the rules, the ancestral laws, and the Clan's reputation.
"E-Elder Changfeng!" Cui's face drained of color. She dropped to her knees so fast her kneecaps cracked against the stone. Around her, the other cooks and maids fell into a prostrate bow, foreheads touching the grime.
Only Bing remained halfway up, clutching her swelling cheek, staring wide-eyed.
Lu Changfeng walked into the room. He didn't look at Bing, but looked at Cui.
The air around him shimmered with the heat of a Foundation Establishment cultivator. To these servants, he was a god.
"Is this," Changfeng's voice was dangerously low, "how the Lu Family conducts itself?"
"E-Elder, please, this servant was just—" Cui stammered, sweat pouring down her face.
"Just what?" Changfeng cut her off. "Just acting like a street thug? Just bullying a mortal girl?"
He swept his gaze across the room, his disgust palpable.
"I was passing by the corridor," Changfeng stated, his voice rising. "And I heard you filth cackling. You mock the Third Young Master? You deny him food?"
"He... he is useless, Elder!" Cui tried to defend herself, desperation making her foolish. "The First Madam said we should prioritize the geniuses! He is just a waste of resources—"
BOOM.
An invisible force slammed Cui into the ground, flattening her nose against the stone. She screamed, a muffled, wet sound.
"Silence!" Changfeng roared. "Stupid! Short-sighted! Idiots!"
He paced back and forth, his hands shaking with rage.
"Do you think I care about Lu Youran's talent? I do not! He could be a vegetable for all I care! But he carries the surname Lu! He is the son of the Clan Head! When you, a lowly servant, slap his maid, you are slapping the Clan Head's face! You are slapping my face!"
Changfeng stopped and pointed a trembling finger at the cowering staff.
"If outsiders heard that the Lu Family servants decide who eats and who starves, we would be the laughingstock of Shenjing City! They would say the Lu Family has no order! They would say we are so weak that we must bully our own invalids to feel strong!"
He looked down at Cui, his eyes cold.
"A servant stepping on the master. This is rebellion. This is chaos."
"Elder, mercy!" Cui wailed.
"Take her to the Discipline Hall," Changfeng ordered the guards who had appeared at the door. "Thirty lashes with the Spirit Whip. And deduct three months of wages from everyone in this kitchen."
A collective gasp of horror went through the room. Thirty lashes could cripple a cultivator of Cui's level.
Changfeng turned his gaze to the Head Chef, a fat man who was trying to merge with the wall.
"You."
"Y-yes, Elder!"
"Pack the food. Roast Chicken. Spirit Rice. The Grade-2 Ginseng Soup meant for... whoever. Give it to the Third Young Master. Now."
"Yes! Yes, right away!"
The kitchen exploded into frantic activity. Within seconds, a new, ornate lacquered food box was packed.
The Head Chef personally selected the golden-roasted chicken, the fragrant congee, and side dishes that sparkled with spiritual energy.
Changfeng turned to Bing. His expression didn't soften. To him, she was just a tool of the clan, but a tool that had been mistreated.
"You. Can you walk?"
Bing scrambled to her feet, bowing deeply. "Yes, Elder. Thank you, Elder."
"Do not thank me," Changfeng grunted, flipping his sleeve. "I did not do it for you. I did it because I cannot stand the stench of disorder. Take the food. Go."
He watched as Bing took the heavy box and hurried away, limping slightly.
Lu Changfeng stroked his beard, his brow furrowed.
'The Third Young Master... awake? And demanding food? Perhaps the boy has finally decided to die with a full stomach. Hmph. Useless.'
He turned and marched away, leaving a kitchen filled with weeping servants and the smell of fear.
*
*
*
The West Courtyard.
Lu Youran was sitting on the windowsill, dangling her legs over the edge. She had found a spot of sunlight and was absorbing it like a reptile.
Her internal clock ticked precisely, waiting for the food to arrive.
'Bing has been gone for twenty-two minutes. If she is not back in three, I will have to dismantle the kitchen.'
Just as the thought crossed her mind, the courtyard gate creaked open.
Bing rushed in. She was out of breath, her hair messy, and she was favoring her left leg. But she held the lacquered food box with both hands as if it were the crown jewels.
"Young Master! I have returned!"
Youran hopped down from the window. She moved with a fluidity that shouldn't have been possible for a body recovering from a three-day fever. She landed silently in front of Bing.
"You're late," Youran said, but her tone was mild.
She reached out and took the box from Bing.