"Let them go."
Three words. A gavel.
Several heirs flinched. A few elders shifted in their seats. Even the guards at the door straightened as if pulled by a wire.
The pressure in the room snapped—redirected, fractured.
The patriarch didn't look back at the Second Branch. He didn't repeat himself. He didn't soften the tone. The decree landed and stayed.
Guohua rose, offering a respectful nod. Li Xue followed, shoulders squared despite the weight resting on them. Li Feng fell in step behind them.
A guard moved forward automatically to escort them; another cleared space through the hall with less rigidity than before—the change subtle, unmistakable.
They reached the doorway.
Then Li Feng paused.
Not a turn. A fraction of an angle so his voice would carry without shouting—clear, measured.
"Silent Hands isn't the Li Family's to worry about."
A dozen faces tightened. Feng kept his gaze forward.
"The ship left your yard long ago."
The sentence hung like a quiet blade—no threat, no swagger, only simple, unadorned truth delivered by someone who didn't need to raise his voice.
Before anyone could respond he turned and walked out. Guohua and Xue followed, silent and steady. The guards parted. Behind them the hall froze, brittle; Feng's words echoed long after the doors closed.
---
Silence clung to the room for two seconds—then the murmurs began.
Not loud. Not chaotic. The tight, controlled murmur of people who want to sound rational while admitting they are rattled.
Li Cheng leaned forward, voice low but sharp. "Tell me none of you think that timing was coincidence."
Han Rui exhaled. "The moment he opens his mouth—problems explode across three divisions? That's not coincidence."
Li Xinya glanced at the doorway, brows drawn. "The way he spoke… like he expected something."
Even elders shifted. A thin thread of paranoid logic pulled through the air. Did Li Feng do this?
Li Han scoffed, irritation as cover. "He's seventeen. A high schooler with no resources. Even if he's smart, this level of disruption—across three departments at once? Don't be ridiculous."
Yichen, steady and analytical, said, "Agreed. Data anomalies, MoH recalls, PR leaks—these aren't things a teenager can trigger on demand."
Rui nodded, too tightly. "It's too complex. Too interconnected. He couldn't have orchestrated this. Impossible." The emphasis betrayed him—an attempt to convince himself more than anyone else.
Guotao, still reeling from the Ministry alert, rubbed his nose. "More likely a rival group exploiting the Silent Hands exposure—opportunistic timing. Not the Second Branch."
Guifen pursed her lips. "These problems have roots stretching years. For Li Feng to weaponize them, he'd need access to decades of internal structure. How would he even reach that?"
Her skepticism was practical—and protective. Believing otherwise felt combustible.
Yet even among the doubters, discomfort rippled. Logic said no; instinct whispered maybe.
Han Rui lowered his voice. "Even if he didn't trigger it… his words suggest he knew."
Li Cheng's jaw tightened. "That line—'the Li Family has been quite free lately'—and that 'ship has left your yard' remark…"
Yichen's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't someone bluffing."
Silence shivered through the younger generation.
The dining hall divided: those certain Li Feng had a hand in it—the timing, the calm composure, the warning; and those who refused to believe it—his age, his lack of access, the scale.
Pride and fear tangled: if a seventeen-year-old could shake the Li Group this easily, what could he be in five years?
The murmurs circled—accusation, denial, fear, logic. None noticed the patriarch sitting motionless, listening.
His eyes were hooded, face unreadable. Something cold and careful flickered beneath the surface—not certainty, not panic, but that predator's unease when it senses another predator in the brush.
Minutes later the murmurs thinned into a staggered hush. The man at the head of the table moved—only his fingers tapped the porcelain teacup—but the small motion carried more authority than a shout.
Li Zhonghai didn't stand. He didn't raise his voice. He lifted his gaze and swept it across the room; that alone snuffed the last whispers.
"Enough."
No emotion. No volume. Just Command.
He let a heartbeat settle, then continued. "This is not the time for guessing. Nor for fear. Nor for… amateur speculation."
The younger heirs who had been whispering shrank. The patriarch's hands stayed loosely interlaced on the table; his posture was controlled, almost serene, which made each word land harder.
"Tonight's disruptions are not coincidental," he said. "But neither will we entertain the preposterous idea that a seventeen-year-old orchestrated simultaneous issues across three divisions."
Some skeptics relaxed—until his eyes tightened on them.
"But," he said—one small syllable that sent a ripple across the table—"Li Feng's demeanor was not the demeanor of someone caught unprepared. Nor of someone who got lucky."
A cold pause. "He spoke as if he was anticipating something."
No accusation. No verdict. Clinical observation.
"And that," Zhonghai added quietly, "is something I do not overlook."
A quiet shiver moved through the room. He wasn't saying Li Feng did it—he also wasn't saying he didn't. He was saying he noticed. He would remember.
Zhonghai exhaled, measured, and folded his hands. "For now," he said, voice crisp, "return to your divisions."
Branch heads straightened, tension taut.
"Contain your issues immediately. Stabilize all affected channels. Verify every detail before reporting back."
His gaze hardened. "Begin a full systems audit. Monitor external groups. Check for movement from rival conglomerates. Verify regulatory correspondence. Sweep internal access logs."
Then, almost casually, yet heavy enough to make several inhale: "And keep watch on the Second Branch."
Not accusatory. Not hostile. Careful. Measured. Suspicion founded more on instinct than evidence.
He looked round once more. "Until we have evidence," he said quietly, "we make no assumptions."
His next words cut closer: "Not about rivals. Not about competitors." a beat. "Not about family."
The sentence tightened the room. He tapped the table. "Go."
Chairs scraped. Aides moved. Orders hissed like steam. Underneath the efficiency, one thought settled: the patriarch was no longer looking through Li Feng—he was looking at him. Not convinced; yet not willing to assume innocence.
---
Second Branch Residence
The ride home was quiet, not heavy, not awkward—just the exhausted quiet after a long held breath. The sedan slid through the night; the escort felt like background noise rather than threat.
Xue leaned on her brother's shoulder, tired but comforted by his steadiness. Guohua sat with closed eyes, thinking, not tense.
When they stepped inside and the door clicked shut, the house exhaled. Xue dropped onto the sofa. Guohua loosened his tie and rubbed his neck. Li Feng set his phone down with the detachment of someone returning from an ordinary dinner.
For a few moments no one spoke. Then Guohua leaned forward, voice soft.
"Feng."
Li Feng looked up. His father's face wasn't accusing—just thoughtful, concerned, a father trying to understand something bigger than the night allowed.
"Those issues that surfaced in the three branches," Guohua said carefully, "do you know anything about them?"
Xue's eyes flicked between them—worried but trusting her brother.
Feng didn't answer right away. He went to the side table, poured two cups of warm water, handed one to Xue, then took a slow sip.
Calm. Steady. Neutral. "Dad… the Li Group is huge. Such groups have unresolved things buried in corners. When people get distracted or lax, those things surface."
He met Guohua's eyes—neither confirming nor denying. Honest, in its own way.
Xue's voice came small. "…Gege, you didn't do anything dangerous, right?"
Li Feng sat beside her, smoothing her hair the way he always did. "No," he said gently. "I didn't do anything dangerous."
Not a lie in the technical sense.
Guohua let his breath out, the lines at his shoulders easing a degree. "It's been a long day. Rest. Both of you."
Li Feng stood, stretched, and headed upstairs.
"Feng," Guohua called softly. He paused.
His father looked at him with something like pride and something like awe. "You handled yourself well tonight."
Li Feng's smile was faint. "Good night, Dad."
"Good night, Feng."
He vanished up the stairs, leaving the living room in warm light. Xue leaned into her father. "…Gege feels different," she whispered. Guohua's hand settled on her shoulder. "He's growing... And tonigt, everyone saw it."
The house eased into calm—safe for now, far from the estate's still-burning chaos.
---
Minutes later — Li Feng's room
Steam drifted as he stepped from the shower, towel across his shoulders, water trailing down his hair. He exhaled slow—heat loosening the tension in his muscles.
The room glowed faintly from the sleeping workstation. Quiet. Still. Exactly what he wanted.
He closed the door, rubbed the towel through his hair, and thought: 'The Li Family should be busy for a while.'
Tossing the towel on the chair, he picked up a glass and sipped. 'Three departments pulled apart at the seams. Regulatory heat. Media pressure. Compliance callbacks. And the little surprises I left for them.'
'They won't have time to bother us. Not for days. Weeks, maybe.'
He set the glass down with a soft clink. Good. 'The longer they're occupied, the more space I have.'
He switched off the lamp. Darkness wrapped the room; starlight slid in at the window. He lay back, arms folded behind his head, ceiling above.
A faint, amused breath escaped. 'Phase 2 of Li Web… I should finish it before they find balance again. And Dad's company… I'll shield it before scrutiny reaches it.'
His fingers hovered, as if tracing invisible threads only he could see.
'A few weeks of breathing room—more than enough.'
He summoned the system interface with a quiet thought. A soft blue panel unfurled.
[Skill Dashboard — Current Sync]
Cyber Security — Lv. 2 (5%)
Programming — Lv. 2 (3%)
Software Engineering — Lv. 1 (75%)
Machine Learning & AI — Lv. 1 (50%)
Yi Jin Jing — Lv. 1 (0%)
Zhan Zhuang — Lv. 0 (97%)
Meditation — Lv. 1 (10%)
[Passives:]
Accelerated Comprehension
Cognitive Resonance
System Integration
Accelerated Parallel Cognition
Recursive Synthesis
Neural Harmony
The numbers glowed across his half-closed eyes. He let them rest there a moment, then breathed out, slow and steady.
Sleep came—quiet, composed. Plans already forming in the dark.