Chapter 86: Welcome to the Qing Clan

“You talked about the elders of this place, and you’re mentioning me as one of them? Are you joking?” Leon said, staring at Zoe with an unreadable expression.

Zoe met his gaze with an assessing look, then turned back to the imposing door. She sighed, in a soft exhale that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken rules.

She lifted her gaze to the center, where names were boldly inscribed on the door’s surface in metallic script.

Her finger rose and pointed to a name written separately on the right.

“Here,” she said, then shifted her body slightly toward Leon, her back to the door.

“That’s the reason you’re now part of those capable of entering through this door.”

Leon took slow steps forward. His eyes widened as they focused, reading the name in his mind.

’Andrew Storm. Dad?’

’Dad was just a painter. How come his name is on this door?’ thoughts screamed in his head in a chaotic tone.

He tore his gaze from the etched name and looked at Zoe.

“Does that mean you can also enter through this door?” he asked in a shaky voice.

“Nah,” Zoe replied, then shook her head. “Since neither my Dad nor Mom is dead, I don’t have the privilege to enter.”

Leon’s mind latched onto the word. “Dead?” The words jumped from his throat. “So, does that mean because my dad is dead, that’s why you’re saying I can enter?”

Zoe waited for a while, her silver-grey eyes holding Leon’s. Then she shook her head in a silent, cryptic answer.

Leon lowered his head and stared at the intricate patterns in the stone floor. Questions reeled in his mind and crashed into one another. ’Who exactly is Zoe’s father?’

“Zoe,” he said, forcing his head up. But he saw her already walking away in purposeful steps, as if she had been deaf to her own name.

“Come,” she called over her shoulder, but didn’t turn. “Let me show you another thing.”

Leon swallowed his frustrations and followed. They continued the tour, Zoe’s voice falling back into the practical rhythm of a guide.

She pointed out historical artifacts in glass cases, explained the significance of certain architectural details, but brushed off every question Leon brought up about her family.

He followed and listened to all that she could tell him about the place he knew nothing about, but seemed to claim him without his consent.

Finally, when they finished the interior tour, Zoe led him through a grand archway flanked by carved stone pillars, leading to the outside.

The full force of the afternoon sun hit Leon the moment they stepped outside.

To his left, he heard the cheerful chime of birds, the rhythmic flapping of wings from a dovecote, the contented lowing of cattle in a distant field, and saw the quick, white flashes of rabbits hopping in a penned meadow.

When he turned to the right, his breath caught. His ribs felt like they had loosened in his chest, while his mouth remained open, as if forgotten how to close.

Arrayed in pristine rows, glinting under the sun like a treasure hoard, were vehicles. Dozens of them. Cars, trucks, and transport in every color and size he could imagine.

Sleek black saloons, rugged off-road vehicles with massive tires, armored personnel carriers, and even what looked like a few low-slung, aerodynamic models that belonged on a racetrack.

They were all perfectly maintained, their paint and chrome shimmering, packed in an organized motor pool that stretched toward the horizon.

“Who are you, Zoe?” Leon asked in a voice laden with awe and a deep, unsettling fear.

Zoe turned to face him, then took two steps forward, laughing. She placed her hands on her knees and dipped into a deep, formal bow.

“Welcome to the Qing Clan.”

“Come,” she said, standing in a relaxed posture. She pointed toward the sprawling green field to their left. “Let me show you our farmland.”

She turned and broke into a light run, her white dress fluttering around her legs as she headed for the entrance of the green field.

She slowed when she noticed only her footsteps echoed and turned back with a slight frown.

“Aren’t you coming?” she called in an impatient voice.

Leon blinked, gave a short nod, and began to walk toward her.

Entering through a small arched entrance in a low stone wall, rich air brushed on their faces.

On the field, Leon saw dozens of workers bent among the rows, tending to vegetables and fruit-laden vines.

When they moved a few steps forward, all the workers nearest to the path straightened up. One by one, they bowed their heads in a respectful dip of the chin.

“These are our workers,” Zoe said, sweeping a hand across them. “They will do anything for us just to survive this cruel world.”

Her expression changed as she approached a small girl of about six years, who was standing barefoot in a patch of mud.

With one gesture, the workers nearby tensed, arms lifting slightly as if to stop Zoe, but stopped and watched with anxious faces.

Zoe smiled at the girl, then bent and hoisted her onto her shoulders. The girl gripped Zoe’s silver hair with a squeal of delight.

Zoe laughed and spun in a slow circle while the girl giggled above her.

A faint smile touched Leon’s lips as his eyes drifted from Zoe to the child and to the other workers. He glanced at the women with lined faces and rough hands who seemed to be of the same age as his mother.

’Mom.’ The image of his mother’s sightless eyes bumped into his vision like a blow. Then Lily’s face followed.

His heart raced as the two faces stood side by side in his vision. The smile on his face vanished in an instant.

Without a word or a glance at Zoe, still playing with the child, Leon turned and broke into a jog, then sprinted at full speed.

He bypassed the path they had used earlier, cut through the entrance, and bolted for the distant brown door of the main mansion.

“Hey! Leon!” Zoe cried out.

Leon didn’t look back until he crashed through the mansion’s doorway, the grand space blurring as he skidded to a halt in the main hallway.

He placed a hand against the cool stone wall, while his mind raced, scrambling for a plan.

Zoe burst in, breathing heavily, her silver-grey eyes wide with confusion and anger.

“Why did you run away as if you were being chased?” she asked in a low but intense voice.

“My mother,” Leon gasped. “My sis. I need to get back to them. Now.”

Zoe stared at him as if he’d started speaking in tongues. “Have you gone mad or what?” she scolded, while her hands moved to her hips.

“Were they with you throughout the days you were at Alchemania? Did you carry them in your pocket?”

Even listening to Zoe’s voice, the faces of his mother and sister continued to reel in his mind.

“Didn’t Corporal Lee tell you they were under Lieutenant Feng’s care?” she said.

She took a step closer and forced him to meet her gaze.

The frantic hammer of Leon’s heart began to slow as the memory of Mr. Lee telling him the same statement reeled in his mind.

He let out a shuddering breath while his shoulders slumped. “He… he did,” Leon admitted in a low voice, then ran a trembling hand through his messy hair.

Zoe’s stern expression softened. “Your mind is still scrambled from the backlash,” she stated. “You need to rest. Your family is safe, don’t worry.”

Leon nodded, then forced a smile.

…

Meanwhile, along the rusty road that snaked from the crumbling outskirts of Dusthollow toward the main highway, a sleek black sedan moved hastily.

Inside its tinted windows, in the back seat, tears filled Lily’s eyes as she curled against her mother.

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