Chapter 6: Ah, So I’m a Figurehead With Debt
There comes a moment in every newly awakened Patriarch’s life where he must face his people and inspire them.
I was not that kind of Patriarch.
I was the kind who:
- Woke up with memory issues,
- Didn’t know basic clan protocol,
- Couldn’t use Qi,
- Had accidentally bankrupted the clan by sleeping too hard,
- And had never led anything more complicated than a microwave in his past life.
So naturally, they scheduled a clan leadership meeting and put me at the head of the table.
Because nothing says “we’re desperate” like putting the emotionally numb teenager in charge of a crumbling mountain sect.
The Shen Clan’s meeting hall was carved into the cliffside.
Dark stone walls. Heavy wooden chairs. Giant banners fluttering in slow, dramatic wind. It looked like a cult recruitment poster.
I sat at the head seat, elevated slightly. Probably symbolic. Definitely uncomfortable.
The elders filed in slowly, each one bowing as if I were a volcano they didn’t want to trigger.
Elder Zhang sat to my left. He smiled nervously like a man trying to convince himself this wasn’t going to be a disaster.
On my right: Aunt Mei, who radiated calm competence like she’d done this eight times already.
The others introduced themselves in order.
Elder Guan: Logistics. Has permanent rice stuck in his beard.
Elder Niu: Disciplinary Hall. Looks like he’s been fighting rocks for fun.
Elder Yun: Finance. Blind in one eye, but sharp enough to see through tax fraud.
Elder Lin: External Affairs. Doesn’t speak unless bribed with tea.
And finally, two juniors from the Northern and Western branches, neither of whom looked thrilled to be there.
The door shut. The wind stilled.
Elder Zhang gave me a small nod.
The meeting began.
I cleared my throat.
A dramatic silence followed. I hadn’t even said anything yet.
“…So,” I said carefully, “I’ve called this meeting to understand the current affairs of the Shen Clan.”
A long pause.
Then Elder Zhang leaned forward and gave a reassuring smile.
“Of course, Patriarch. Where would you like to begin?”
I glanced around.
“Let’s start with… our general position in the region.”
Elder Yun coughed softly and pulled out a scroll.
“The Shen Clan,” he began in a tone that suggested he had recited this before court trials, “holds respected historical significance as the caretakers of the Ironspine Range. Our lineage traces back to—”
“Skip to the depressing part,” I said.
A few people twitched. Aunt Mei gave me a tiny smile behind her cup.
Elder Yun adjusted his spectacles.
“We currently occupy territory with no trade routes, no mineral resources, and minimal influence in cultivation society. We are not invited to alliance meetings unless Shen Wuji is present.”
“Which he is not.”
“Which he is not,” Elder Yun confirmed gravely.
“Financially?”
“Your medical treatments consumed most of the emergency funds. And the treasury. And our credit.”
I nodded slowly. “So we’re poor.”
“Exceptionally.”
Elder Guan chimed in. “However, we are rich in herbs! And goats!”
Goats?
I raised an eyebrow. “Do the goats cultivate?”
“No,” he admitted. “But they’re aggressive.”
Of course they are. Why wouldn’t the Shen Clan raise hostile livestock?
I steepled my fingers. “So in short: we are poor, remote, politically irrelevant, and militarily weak without Grandpa?”
The silence in the room was the kind that made even the birds outside stop tweeting.
Finally, Aunt Mei spoke. “We do have a reputation.”
“A good one?”
A longer silence.
“A reputation,” she repeated firmly.
I took a deep breath.
“Alright. Let’s talk about me. Why am I the Patriarch?”
The shift in mood was immediate.
Elder Lin made a sound like he was choking on air.
The younger branch reps suddenly found the ceiling very interesting.
Elder Zhang, bless his professional panic, cleared his throat with the kind of caution one uses around explosives.
“Patriarch, you were appointed by the ancestral decree of Shen Wuji. As his direct bloodline heir, and sole surviving member of his household, the position was uncontested.”
“…You all just… accepted that?”
There was a loud clunk as someone dropped a teacup.
“You don’t question Shen Wuji,” muttered Elder Niu.
“You survive Shen Wuji,” added Elder Guan.
“You nod respectfully at Shen Wuji,” said Elder Yun.
I leaned back and pinched the bridge of my nose.
So I was Patriarch because:
- Grandpa scared everyone into compliance,
- I have his bloodline,
- And they were too terrified to suggest alternatives,
- Even though I was literally in a coma.
“Do I actually have any real authority?” I asked.
The elders exchanged a glance.
“…Yes,” Elder Zhang said slowly. “Absolutely.”
I stared.
“You’re lying.”
“…Emotionally, yes. Structurally, no.”
Aunt Mei nodded. “You have the final say in all decisions. But there is a general… understanding.”
“What understanding?”
“That you… may not have been fully trained for the role.”
“Oh, you think?”
I let out a long breath and looked around the room.
“Well,” I said at last, “at least now I know where we stand.”
Elder Guan beamed. “So you understand everything now?”
“Yes.”
“We’re poor. Isolated. Politically irrelevant. Militant only by family trauma. And I am the leader because my grandfather once made a mountain cry.”
“…Accurate,” Elder Zhang admitted.
I stood up slowly.
“Meeting adjourned.”
As everyone filed out, I stayed behind.
Aunt Mei lingered, watching me quietly.
“You did well,” she said.
I gave her a flat look. “I learned I’m a ceremonial mascot with debt and zero assets.”
“Yes,” she agreed warmly. “But you delivered it with authority.”
“…Great. I’ll start charging for motivational speeches.”
[End of Chapter 6]
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