Ren's courtyard felt like a different world.
Beyond the walls, the Martial House still seethed—disciples shouting, rumors boiling, elders whispering about a Xiantian talisman shattered and an Acacia envoy forced to his knees.
In here, the world was smaller, quieter.
Spirit spring mist drifted lazily through the air. The old pine tree creaked softly as it shed a few needles, which spiraled down to land on worn stone slabs. The faint scent of tea and embers lingered, soaked into the courtyard like memory.
The five girls sat around the low stone table.
For once, no one spoke immediately.
Na Shui cracked first.
She let out a long, tragic groan and thunked her forehead down onto the stone, arms flopping out to either side like a dying fish.
"Ren…" Her voice came out muffled against the table. "You… you really told him to scram. You crushed a Xiantian talisman in his face and then told him to bring his uncle and Sovereign if he wanted more… Do you want my heart to stop on the spot?"
Her shoulders trembled, half with leftover fear, half with something like giddy disbelief.
Murong Zi laughed, but it came out a little shaky.
"I liked the part where he went white," she said, eyes gleaming. "Both times. First when I hit Zhang Guanyu, then when Xingxuan smashed him into the floor, and then when you—"
She cut herself off.
Her fingers had tightened unconsciously around her spear. The memory of that moment—envoys, talisman, suffocating Xiantian pressure crushed like a fragile lamp—played vividly in her mind.
"Still," she muttered, tone dropping low, "Acacia Faction… Third Elder… Sovereign… those aren't names people in Sky Fortune Kingdom throw around lightly."
Na Yi's hands were folded neatly in her lap, back straight, expression calm.
Compared to her sister, she had always been more studious, more cautious; she had quietly read everything she could find about the Seven Profound Valleys, about the factions hidden behind the Martial House's name.
She looked at Ren, eyes serious.
"Envoy Ouyang will not let this go," she said quietly. "Nor will the Ouyang Family. Within the Seven Profound Valleys, the Acacia Faction's roots run very deep. It is one of the seven legacies left by the founders. And the Acacia Sovereign…" Her brows knit together. "…he is said to be Extreme Xiantian. Among all the Xiantian masters of the Seven Profound Valleys, his strength is ranked in the top four."
Qin Xingxuan's eyes were lowered.
She thought of the bell that had rung that morning, announcing the envoy's arrival; of the blood sea on the island, of corpses on black stone; of the envoy's face twisting as her spear smashed Zhang Guanyu into the floor; of Ren's quiet words about fear and lantern flames.
"Ren," she said softly, "this time, you stood in front."
Her fingers curled tightly into her robe.
"But in the future, they may aim at those around you instead."
Her voice trembled, just a little.
"I know I agreed," she continued, "to use him to temper my Dao Heart… and I do not regret that. I do not regret standing there today. But… if this brings calamity onto the Martial House, onto Na Yi and Na Shui, Murong Zi, Jingyun… onto you…"
Her voice trailed off.
The unspoken words—I would blame myself—hung heavily between them.
Bai Jingyun hadn't spoken since they returned.
Her hand rested lightly against her chest, as if she could still feel that moment in the arena when the invisible chain binding her life snapped.
That soundless crack still echoed through her bones.
At last, she lifted her head.
The usual reserve in her eyes had softened. There was still elegance there, still that quiet distance, but it no longer looked like a wall. More like a thin veil, stirred by wind.
"I…" she began, then stopped.
There were many things she wanted to say.
Thank you for crushing that talisman.
Thank you for tearing up the contract that had strangled my life since childhood.
Thank you for doing it in front of everyone, so I would never again have to lower my head to that man's "guidance".
But what finally left her lips was simple.
"…You brought trouble to yourself," she said quietly.
Her gaze met his.
"You did not have to."
Ren listened.
He didn't interrupt.
He let their worry, guilt, and gratitude spill into the air, mixing with the scent of pine and spirit spring, letting their hearts settle enough to hear anything at all.
Then he smiled.
It was that same easy curve that made Murong Zi complain he "talked like this and then expected people not to fall for him."
"First," he said, "I told you already, Jingyun—this kind of trouble is the kind I like."
Na Shui lifted her head halfway, eyes peeking over the edge of the stone table.
He went on, voice steady, calm—like someone discussing the weather instead of Xiantian Elders.
"Second," Ren said, "Acacia Faction's roots may run deep in the Seven Profound Valleys. Their Third Elder, their Sovereign… all very impressive—for this region. For this era."
His eyes turned distant for a heartbeat, reflecting something vast and unfathomable, like a night sky that had seen more than one world.
"To you," he continued, "they're towering mountains. To me… they're just bigger stones on the road."
He shrugged lightly.
"They can be stepped over. Or kicked aside. Or used to build a nicer courtyard, if I'm in the mood."
Murong Zi choked on her own laugh, unable to help herself.
"You're talking about Extreme Xiantian like you're picking tiles for your floor," she muttered, but her shoulders had loosened.
Na Yi's gaze sharpened, as if measuring his words against the memory of that crushed talisman, against the pressure she'd felt in the arena when his true strength leaked for a breath.
"Third," Ren said softly, his attention turning to Qin Xingxuan, "you're wrong about one thing, Xingxuan."
She blinked, startled.
He tapped a finger lightly against the stone table.
"If calamity comes," he said, "it comes because of me. Because of my Dao. Because of the roads I open. That responsibility doesn't land on your shoulders. Not now."
His eyes swept over all five of them.
Na Yi.
Na Shui.
Murong Zi.
Qin Xingxuan.
Bai Jingyun.
"But," Ren continued, "I also didn't bring you onto this path just to hide you behind my back forever."
His voice lowered, gaining a subtle weight, like a bell tone echoing through their meridians.
"You've all tasted it already," he said. "That feeling when your Fire Intent pushes through. When your Dao Heart doesn't step back. When heaven and earth answer your will instead of crushing it. That doesn't stop here."
He leaned back slightly, that familiar smile returning.
"Sooner or later," he said, "you'll stand shoulder to shoulder with me. When old monsters from Seven Profound Valleys, Divine Phoenix Island, or anywhere else look up, they'll see you too—not just me."
Na Shui's eyes went wide, cheeks flushing.
"S-shoulder to shoulder…" she echoed, a little dazed, mind leaping far ahead to images of herself standing straight-backed beside him as Xiantian Elders coughed blood.
Murong Zi's grin was sharp and wolfish.
"Standing there while Acacia's Sovereign chokes on his own blood?" she said. "I really like the sound of that."
Na Yi's lips curved faintly; the idea of "standing beside" instead of "being protected by" sank deep into her careful heart.
Qin Xingxuan's breathing evened out. In her mind, an image rose—her spear planted firmly at the peak, not as someone sheltered in another's shadow, but as someone who could stand beside him, spear to spear, facing the horizon together.
Bai Jingyun's fingers tightened on her robe.
She thought of a life where she was not a bargaining chip between sects; where her sword and Dao Heart decided her path, not contracts and decrees and men smiling as they tightened a collar around her neck.
Ren's gaze softened as he watched their expressions shift.
"Until then," he added, voice gentling, "you can relax a little."
He lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers.
"You have me," he said simply. "Whatever comes knocking, I'll handle it. That's my job."
The words were plain.
But spoken with that calm, unshakable confidence, they settled in their hearts like anchors dropped into a deep lake.
Na Shui exhaled, tension draining out of her shoulders. Murong Zi stretched like a cat after a fight, bones popping. Qin Xingxuan's gaze grew clear and steady. Na Yi's eyes warmed. Bai Jingyun looked away, hiding the slight shimmer at the edges of her lashes.
Ren clapped his hands once.
"Alright," he said, tone turning lighter, teasing, "serious talk over. If I let you keep frowning, people will think I bullied you instead of the other way around."
Na Shui puffed her cheeks. "How are we bullying you—"
Ren ignored her without mercy.
He pushed away from the table and rolled his shoulders, joints cracking lightly.
"To commemorate Jingyun's freedom," he said, counting on his fingers, "Murong's little breakthrough, Xingxuan's neat two-move lesson, and Na Yi and Na Shui not dying of worry…"
He spread his hands.
"…your man will make you a nice dinner."
Na Shui, mid-grumble, froze.
"…Your… man?" she repeated, ears turning red.
Murong Zi choked so hard she nearly coughed up her own lungs.
"Aiya, suddenly I'm very hungry," she said loudly, covering her face. "This is terrible… how tragic…"
Qin Xingxuan's lips trembled, caught between a proper young lady's restraint and a smile. Na Yi's ears pinked despite her composure. Bai Jingyun dipped her head, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
Ren chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.
"Relax," he said. "It won't be anything grand. Just something simple and good."
He turned toward the small kitchen alcove built against the courtyard wall.
As he walked, Fire Laws stirred quietly around him—not the crushing, suffocating weight he'd displayed in the arena, but a gentle, precise warmth.
Flames bloomed under the stove the moment he flicked his fingers; not too strong, not too weak, controlled with the casual ease of someone who could refine pill furnaces and Dao Hearts alike.
Na Shui leaned toward Na Yi, whispering behind her hand, "Last time he cooked, I thought I'd ascended on the spot…"
Na Yi coughed lightly, shooting her a look—but her own eyes followed Ren's movements with undisguised softness.
Qin Xingxuan looked on fondly.
Bai Jingyun watched his back for a long breath.
The weight on her chest—the one that had sat there since childhood, shaped like contracts and obligations—was gone.
In its place, something new was growing. Quiet. Steady. Like a flame in winter that refused to go out.
Murong Zi suddenly slapped the stone table.
"Alright!" she declared. "After we eat, we cultivate. Next time anyone from Acacia shows their face, we'll be the ones making their Martial Hearts tremble."
Na Shui shot up, fist pumping.
"Mm! I'm not losing to you or Xingxuan!"
Qin Xingxuan's gaze firmed.
"We should adjust our circulations to match the pressure we felt today," she said. "If we can stand steadily under that level of aura, our foundations will far surpass other disciples at our realms."
Na Yi nodded. "We'll use this chance," she said. "What others see as calamity—we'll take as tempering."
Bai Jingyun's fingers brushed the hilt of her sword.
She thought of Ren's words:
If someone tries to use status to cage you… try leaning on me once.
He had kept that promise.
Now, it was her turn to answer.
"…I won't let him stand alone," she murmured, so softly the others almost didn't hear.
Na Shui caught it anyway.
She looked at Bai Jingyun, then grinned brightly.
"Of course not," she said. "We'll all be there. Right beside him."
In the kitchen, Ren hummed under his breath as he stirred the pot, Fire Intent controlling each flicker of heat precisely.
Outside the courtyard walls, Seven Profound Martial House buzzed with rumors—about Houtian-level pressure from Body Transformation juniors, about an envoy forced to his knees, about a Xiantian talisman shattered, about a guest instructor who told Acacia Faction to "scram" and then went home to cook dinner for his disciples.
Far away, in the Profound Sky Mountain Range where the true body of Seven Profound Valleys sat like a coiled beast, those rumors were already turning into reports carried by transmission arrays.
Storms were beginning to gather in flower-filled peaks where the Acacia Faction resided, lush with arrays and women and the stench of the Divine Acacia Power.
But in this small courtyard, under the old pine and the drifting mist of the spirit spring, laughter and the smell of cooking rose into the night.
Ren didn't look worried.
He tasted the broth, adjusted the heat with a thought, and smiled.
...
Morning came to Seven Profound Martial House on a tide of mist and light.
The spirit spring in Ren's courtyard steamed faintly in the cool air. Dew hung from pine needles, each drop catching a shard of early sun. The stone platform where they'd fought, trained, and laughed the night before was still scarred—thin cracks from his aura, shallow spear-grooves carved by Murong Zi and Qin Xingxuan.
Ren sat alone at the low stone table.
A blank jade slip rested under his hand.
It didn't stay blank for long.
Lines appeared across its surface—fine, red-gold traces that seemed to burn and cool at the same time. They didn't flow like ordinary inscription patterns. They gathered, stopped, folded back on themselves, forming circles within circles, like a lantern flame drawn as a diagram.
Inside Ren's body, the Immortal Soul Bone breathed.
It wasn't a real breath. But that was how it felt.
Complexity flowed in; simplicity flowed out.
Martial House-level breathing methods, crude Fire-attributed arts from this region, scraps of legends about higher Fire Laws that filtered down from the Seven Profound Valleys… all of it dissolved and rearranged in the marrow of his spine, refined into pure principles.
Fire that burned to consume.
Fire that burned to temper.
Fire that burned to illuminate.
He watched those principles settle into the jade slip without any particular urgency. For him, this was no more troublesome than stirring a pot and adjusting the flame.
"…Mm." He tapped the slip lightly. "This should do."
The lines shivered, locking into place.
What he had created wasn't a killing move. It wasn't a secret divine art for himself.
It was a ladder.
An art built purely to pull people into the field of Fire Laws—to teach their meridians what "Fire" meant on a level deeper than simple heat, to show their Spiritual Seas how to listen when the world spoke in flame. To sharpen their Fire Martial Intent from embers into a red-gold wheel.
A road that could lead, one day, toward the terrifying Fire runes that turned worlds into furnaces.
Even in the Realm of the Gods, if he threw this thing in front of some arrogant Empryean Descendent and told them to study, they'd gain something. In this little corner of Sky Spill Continent, it was like dropping a Revolving Core master's hand-written manual into a village dojo.
His thumb brushed the edge of the jade slip.
The art was broad, tolerant, kind to mediocre talent. It allowed for clumsy comprehension, forgave mistakes, gave room to stumble.
His personal guidance… was not.
By nature, Ren was gentle with those he cared for. By Dao, he was merciless.
Naturally, he only got truly hands-on for the women he intended to keep close. Others could climb the ladder on their own.
Ren stretched his back. Joints cracked softly.
Behind him, footsteps sounded on stone.
He didn't turn.
"Morning," he said.
Na Shui shuffled into view, hair still slightly damp from washing, eyes half-open. She plopped down across from him and leaned over the table, squinting at his face.
"…You didn't sleep again, did you?" she asked suspiciously.
Ren grinned.
"Meditating is basically sleeping for us cultivators," he said.
Na Shui narrowed her eyes.
"Did you dream?"
"No."
"Then it doesn't count," she declared flatly.
She sniffed, noticing the jade.
"What's that?"
"A little helper," Ren said. "Something I'll be giving out later."
Na Shui's curiosity sharpened instantly.
"New art?"
"This art supports Fire comprehension," he corrected. "If you don't listen carefully, it'll burn your eyebrows off instead of helping."
His eyes curved slightly.
"So I suggest you stay awake during the lecture."
Na Shui made a face. "You're targeting me specifically, aren't you?"
"Of course I am."
She opened her mouth to retort—
"Shui."
Na Yi's calm voice floated in from the courtyard entrance. "Stop messing around so early in the morning. I will confiscate your snacks."
Na Shui froze in horror.
"You wouldn't dare," she whispered.
Na Yi stepped into the courtyard, robes neat, hair already tied up. She gave Ren a small nod, her gaze sweeping once over him, then over the jade slip.
"Is that what you were working on?" she asked softly.
"Mm." Ren flicked the slip up; Na Yi caught it with both hands, fingers instinctively gentle. "Test it with your Fire later. Tell me where it tugs too sharply."
"With… my Fire?" she repeated quietly.
He nodded.
"You and Na Shui both have first-level Fire Laws at peak stage, Fire Martial Intent at Small Success. You're good measuring sticks."
Na Yi's lashes trembled.
Even now, the words "my Fire" felt a little unreal. A year ago, she had been just a poor witch hunted by the Fire Worm Tribe, with only a decent body, a bit of will, and no path.
Now—
"…I understand," she said. "I'll do my best not to waste what you've given."
Ren's smile gentled.
"Use it," he said. "Wasting it would be leaving it unused."
Na Shui opened her mouth, ready to say something about how she would happily "waste" his cooking every day if that counted, when a knock sounded at the courtyard gate.
Qin Ziya's personal attendant stood outside, face taut, robes immaculate.
"Guest Instructor Ren," he said respectfully, bowing deeply. "The House Master wishes to see you."
Na Shui and Na Yi exchanged a look.
Ren rose, sliding the jade slip into his sleeve.
"Tell him I'm on my way," he said.
He turned to the sisters.
"You two, go wake Murong, Xingxuan, and Jingyun," he instructed. "Tell them we're doing Fire lectures later today at the main drill ground."
His eyes glinted faintly.
"And tell Murong that if she falls asleep halfway through the explanation, I'll make her run laps while reciting meridian names."
Na Shui groaned. Na Yi's lips curved despite herself.
Ren stepped out of the courtyard.
The morning mist swallowed him in three steps.
...
Qin Ziya's study was heavy with the scent of ink and aged wood.
Scrolls lined the walls from floor to ceiling, each one a record of Sky Fortune Kingdom's battles, treaties, and the Martial House's sparse history with Seven Profound Valleys. A careful map of the kingdom hung behind the desk, pins marking important cities and known sect outposts. Thin threads of silk linked some of the pins to a smaller, separate map of the Profound Sky Mountain Range, where Seven Profound Valleys' main sect sat, aloof above the thirty-six countries.
Qin Ziya stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking down at the training grounds.
When Ren entered, the peak Houtian master turned.
He had not slept well.
There were faint shadows under his eyes, and the lines at the corners of his mouth were deeper than yesterday. But his back was still straight, and his gaze was steady.
"Guest Instructor Ren," he greeted, cupping his fists.
Ren waved lightly.
"House Master," he said. "If you bow any deeper, I'll feel like I've stolen your seat."
Qin Ziya's mouth twitched.
"…You already stirred enough waves to turn my seat into a small boat," he replied dryly. "It does not matter if you steal it a little."
Despite the words, there was no resentment in his tone. Only complicated gratitude, and worry that had not faded with a single night.
He gestured.
"Please," he said. "Sit."
Ren didn't stand on ceremony. He took the offered seat like he was sitting back in his own courtyard. Qin Ziya sat opposite him, then fell silent, as if arranging the mountain of thoughts in his chest into something that could fit through his throat.
Outside, the distant sounds of disciples training drifted in—the clash of weapons, sharp shouts, fists beating against wooden stakes. Life went on, unaware that a Third-Grade Sect's gaze might already be turning this way.
Finally, Qin Ziya spoke.
"Yesterday," he said slowly, "you saved my disciples. You broke a contract that should never have been forged. For that, I am deeply grateful."
He bowed again, this time from the waist, lower than before.
Ren accepted it with a nod.
"But," Qin Ziya continued, straightening, "you also crushed the life-saving talisman of a Xiantian Elder. The Acacia Faction's Third Elder, Ouyang Boyan… is not someone to be taken lightly. Even in the Seven Profound Valleys, he has a pivotal status. The Ouyang Family Clan has many descendants, many talents. Their influence is… extensive."
His fingers tightened on his knees.
"And above him," Qin Ziya said, voice dropping, "stands the Acacia Sovereign, Ouyang Shenxiu—an Extreme Xiantian master ranked among the top four in the Seven Profound Valleys."
"To Sky Fortune Kingdom, such characters are akin to legends. Even our royal family must bow their heads. As for me… this Martial House…"
He exhaled slowly.
"We are but a small branch in the shadow of their mountain."
His jaw clenched.
"I fear that your actions yesterday, no matter how righteous, will draw the ire of that mountain."
Ren let him finish.
Then he leaned back in his chair, one leg crossing over the other, looking for all the world like a man listening to someone worry about a rainstorm that might or might not come next month.
"House Master," he said, "do you remember what I said yesterday, when they tried to lean on 'Sovereign' and 'Elder' to press down on you?"
Qin Ziya hesitated.
"…You said," he recalled slowly, "that if they wished to talk, they could come find you. That you would… be here."
Ren smiled.
"Right," he said. "That hasn't changed."
He lifted his hand.
Between his fingers, a small talisman appeared—a thin strip of jade, no larger than a knuckle, veined faintly with red-gold lines. The patterns weren't from any talisman tradition Qin Ziya recognized. Each stroke was clean and sparse, like the exposed bones of some deeper Dao.
Ren flicked it lightly toward him.
Qin Ziya caught it on reflex.
The moment his fingers closed around the jade, he felt it.
A weight.
Not physical—this was only a sliver of stone. But somewhere beyond his senses, something enormous shifted, as if opening a single, indifferent eye.
Qin Ziya's breath hitched.
"This…" he murmured.
"Keep that on you," Ren said. "If Acacia Faction… or anyone else from Seven Profound Valleys… decides to act recklessly within this Martial House, crush it."
He tapped the table with one finger.
"I'll come," he said simply.
Qin Ziya stared at him.
"You…" He swallowed. "You mean to say…"
"I mean to say they won't get to rampage here while I'm lazing around," Ren replied. "That would be embarrassing."
He said it lazily.
But Qin Ziya remembered the sight of Ren crushing a Xiantian-level eruption in his hand like it was a stray candle flame. He remembered his own true essence trembling in his meridians, the way even the visiting Pulse Condensation envoys had turned pale under that pressure.
Someone who could pinch a Xiantian Elder's full-strength strike into nothing… in Sky Fortune Kingdom, in this South Horizon region, was a monster even Seven Profound Valleys would have to think carefully about provoking head-on.
Qin Ziya's heart pounded.
"Guest Instructor…" he said hoarsely. "If the Valleys send a direct order… I…"
Ren waved a hand.
"They have their Dao," he said. "I have mine. If you receive an order that endangers your disciples' Dao Hearts, you can hand it to me. I'll answer it."
Qin Ziya stared at him for a long moment, searching for some trace of arrogance or empty boasting.
What he found instead was something worse—and far more reassuring.
Calm certainty.
"…Do you understand what you are saying?" he asked quietly. "To openly stand against Seven Profound Valleys…"
Ren's eyes curved, half amused.
"In this world, they're a mountain," he said. "In other places I've walked, mountains were things you either climbed… or flattened to build better courtyards."
Qin Ziya's breath caught.
This way of speaking… this almost casual disdain for a Xiantian-backed sect… it was madness. Madness that somehow felt more solid than the so-called reason he'd heard from countless cautious elders.
Ren stood.
"House Master," he said, "you don't need to decide anything right now."
He nodded toward the jade in Qin Ziya's hand.
"Just keep the talisman. If anything happens, crush it. I'll handle what needs handling."
He glanced out the window toward the training grounds, where disciples were already gathering with nervous energy. Rumors of yesterday had clearly spread; Fire-attributed disciples clustered more tightly than usual, eyes full of fear and hope.
"As for Acacia Faction's retaliation…" His smile turned faintly sharp. "If they're smart, they'll sit down and think. If they're not…"
He shrugged.
"We'll adjust their thoughts for them."
Qin Ziya looked down at the talisman again.
He could feel it, faintly—like holding a tiny piece of heaven and earth that refused to acknowledge the Seven Profound Valleys above.
He tightened his grip.
"…Very well," he said slowly. "In that case, this Martial House… will welcome your lecture today with all the courtesy we can muster."
Ren's grin widened, just a fraction.
"Good," he said. "In that case, send someone to inform the Fire-attributed disciples. Today is a good day to make their Dao Hearts sweat."
He turned to leave.
Behind him, Qin Ziya rose and walked to the window, talisman still in hand, his expression complicated.