A stern-faced silver-haired elder strode over with decisive steps, every strand of hair combed straight, his eyes as sinister as a hawk soaring high above, looking down on the crowd from on high. "Steward!" To the ordinary Feng clan members, this was a figure who held their fates in his hands. Those who had been watching the commotion lowered their heads in deference, not daring to breathe too loudly. The man who had been sparring with Feng Lin immediately cowered, seizing the chance to slip out of Feng Lin’s attack range, standing frozen in place, his body trembling uncontrollably. Feng Lin didn’t lower his head, his eyes fixed on the approaching silver-haired elder, a mix of unfamiliarity and faint recognition. This was the same elder who had previously notified him to report for the family factory interview. Indeed, he was the Feng clan’s steward, Feng Chengying, known as Steward Eagle. His prominent hooked nose and piercing eagle eyes always sent a chill down one’s spine. "Follow me!" The silver-haired elder stopped before Feng Lin and the other man, giving them a once-over with an imposing air that needed no words, then turned and walked into the house. Feng Lin and Feng Lang followed behind him. "Hey! Those two didn’t do that on purpose, did they?" "What a scheme! Picking a fight on purpose to catch the steward’s attention, cutting the line to get in!" "Those two are crafty little bastards!" ... The crowd that had been waiting in line for ages stared in disbelief, seething with anger. But with the steward right there, they didn’t dare act out, only glaring at Feng Lin and Feng Lang with dark, resentful eyes. A conflict sparked by cutting in line—they had just been watching the show, only to end up being outplayed themselves. Who could they complain to? How could they not be furious? Whether it was a scheme or not, Feng Lin didn’t know, but he certainly hadn’t planned it! Still, from what he could tell, Feng Lang probably didn’t have that kind of cunning either. The steward’s authority weighed heavily, and the kid following behind was still shaking uncontrollably, clearly terrified, his character so weak. Only his eyes occasionally shot jealous glances at Feng Lin. He had originally just seen Feng Lin as a low-ranking clansman and wanted him to give up his spot. As a high-ranking clansman, what was wrong with that? He never expected this kid to be so bold as to resist! Now things were bad—they’d angered the steward, and everyone would be in for it. If you’d just obediently given up your spot, none of this would have happened! If I get punished by the steward this time, I’ll make you pay! He blamed everything on Feng Lin, his heart full of venom. Feng Lin didn’t notice his glare, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared. Following the steward’s lead, the two entered the spacious room. The silver-haired elder leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing them from a distance, with no intention of offering them a seat. "Speak! Why did you start a conflict within the clan, violating the family rules? If you don’t have a good reason, don’t blame me for being harsh!" Feng Lang forced an ugly smile and immediately played the victim. "Third Granduncle, it’s unfair! This kid provoked me first—you must punish him severely!" He was the first to accuse the other. "Shut up! Don’t you dare smirk at me." The steward roared, his face ironclad and merciless. "How many times have I told you? Here, I am the Feng clan’s steward, not your Third Granduncle! Even if you scream to the heavens, it won’t help—don’t think I’ll bend the rules for you!" Feng Lang’s scrawny frame shuddered in fear, and he dared not speak. "Feng Lang, I know you well enough! This is how many times you’ve caused trouble this month? If it weren’t for you being the clan leader’s direct grandson, I’d have locked you up long ago!" The steward bellowed again, making Feng Lang tremble in silence. Feng Lin glanced sideways, surprised that this scrawny, monkey-like man was the clan leader’s direct grandson. From their earlier fight, he hadn’t shown much skill. A waste among the direct line? Could this guy be the protagonist of a waste-to-riches story? Small clan, direct line, waste... Feng Lang’s traits fit perfectly! Feng Lin sized up the gaunt man from head to toe, noting an air of sleaze and decay... Clearly, he wasn’t! "And what’s your story?" The steward’s gaze shifted to Feng Lin, turning much colder. With Feng Lang, he was resigned—after all, he was the clan leader’s grandson, useless as he was, not someone to be dealt with lightly. Feng Lin was different—just a low-ranking clansman, with few constraints. As the steward, he could control his life and death. Toward Feng Lin, he was utterly ruthless; if Feng Lin answered poorly, the consequences would be dire. Facing someone who held the fate of most of the clan, anyone would feel the pressure. Feng Lin met his gaze, neither humble nor arrogant. "I was in line, and this man forcibly cut in, so we fought. If the steward doesn’t believe me, you can check the surveillance footage!" "Steward, don’t listen to this kid’s nonsense!..." Feng Lang, seeing the situation turn against him, immediately tried to defend himself. "Did I give you permission to speak?" the steward said coldly. Feng Lang shut his mouth at once, not daring to say another word. Watching Feng Lin, whose expression remained calm throughout, the steward felt a flicker of curiosity. This kid had good composure—not everyone could stay so composed in front of him. He casually pulled up the building’s surveillance footage. The scene outside had been recorded by the building’s AI, clearly displayed before them—solid evidence, leaving no room for argument. The steward shot a glare at Feng Lang and said, "Deduct 10,000 star coins from your monthly allowance!" "Steward, no! That would leave me with only 50,000 star coins a month—nowhere near enough to spend!..." Feng Lang whined, about to say more, but a glare from the steward silenced him. He could only turn his hate-filled eyes on Feng Lin. You little bastard, costing me so many star coins—I’ll make you pay when we get out! As expected of a direct-line descendant, even a useless one, his monthly allowance started at 10,000 star coins. Feng Lin clenched his fists, recalling how his parents toiled every day in the sweatshop, earning less than 5,000 a month, with 70% taxed by the clan! Wasn’t that blatant exploitation? Thinking of the same miserable fate awaiting him, Feng Lin’s gaze grew deep and unfathomable. For a clan so cold and devoid of humanity, it was time to lay his cards on the table! He had long been prepared. At that moment, the steward’s eyes narrowed, not letting Feng Lin off the hook, his tone icy. "Low-ranking clansman Feng Lin, I recall you’re supposed to start your internship at the clan’s energy factory in three weeks! Why have you suddenly come to me? If it’s nothing important, don’t blame me for being harsh!" So he’s just a low-ranking clansman heading to the factory for an internship! Feng Lang glanced over, losing interest. Bothering with someone like this was beneath him. But Feng Lin’s next words made his eyes go wide. "I refuse!" Feng Lin said succinctly. "What?" The steward’s face instantly darkened. No one had ever dared say such a thing to him—outrageous! "I said I refuse to go to the internship!" In case he hadn’t heard clearly, Feng Lin repeated himself, his expression utterly unruffled. Beside him, Feng Lang was stunned! This man dared to defy the steward! This was outright rebellion!