Morning in Seven Profound Martial House came with the smell of pine resin and damp stone.
Mist rose from the spirit spring in Ren's courtyard, veiling the old pine in faint white. Dew clung to the tiles. Somewhere beyond the wall, the Martial House stirred awake—disciples moving toward the training fields, early sparring cries, the dull roar of true essence as new circulations clumsily chased the Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram.
Inside the courtyard, the world was softer.
Ren Ming sat with his back against the old pine, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee. The bark against his spine still held the night's cool. Above him, branches whispered, scattering thin beams of morning light across his face.
Na Shui lay half on his chest, half across his lap, black hair spilling over his arm like ink. Na Yi sat on his other side, posture as straight as ever, but her head rested lightly against his shoulder. Her bare toes brushed his ankle under the low stone table.
Between them, a half-cooled teapot still steamed faintly, fragrant heat mingling with the resin in the air.
"You're spoiling us," Na Shui mumbled, voice muffled against his shirt.
Her fingers traced lazy circles on his chest, all the feral tension she'd once carried gone from her limbs.
Ren's hand moved absently through her hair, smooth strokes from crown to tail. His other palm rested on Na Yi's knee, thumb drawing slow arcs over the fabric of her skirt.
"Mm," he said, tone relaxed. "Terrifying, isn't it."
Na Shui snorted against him.
"It is," Na Yi said.
Her voice was calm, but her eyes—half-lidded as she watched the spirit spring—held a depth they hadn't possessed weeks ago.
"If you keep holding us like this every morning," Na Yi went on, "we may forget what urgency feels like."
"That so?" Ren's smile crooked lazily. "I don't mind. The world already has enough people sprinting nowhere."
Na Shui tilted her head back, golden eyes looking up at him, the movement brushing her lips against his collarbone.
"You really aren't going to the main field today?" she asked. "No lecture? No terrifying demonstrations? No making everyone's meridians cry?"
Her eyes sparkled. She liked watching that.
Ren chuckled, the sound low in his chest.
"Lecture? No," he said. "I already said what needed saying. The foundation's been laid. The rest is on them."
He didn't have to close his eyes to see it. His gaze slipped past the courtyard wall, through stone and formation, brushing over Seven Profound Martial House like a hand skimming water.
Human Hall's drill ground—dozens of disciples forcing their true essence into unfamiliar Lantern-Heart patterns. Some succeeded, flames condensing into small, sharp wisps that licked the edges of their meridians. Others faltered, their old crude "fire" circulations clashing with the new path, leaving their meridians stinging, their faces pale with the realization of how shallow their previous understanding had been.
Earth Hall—the Heaven-Opening Origin Art spirals slowly replacing older, wasteful circulations. True essence flows that had once raced aimlessly now re-forged into tempered loops that would strengthen their foundations instead of burning them out. Each breath laid another brick in the road to Houtian, Xiantian, and beyond.
Heavenly Abode—Murong Zi, spear slung over one bare shoulder, laughing as she argued with a senior brother about the best way to draw a killing line through a formation. Bai Jingyun in the shade, her aura calm and cold, re-walking the Lantern-Heart Diagram in her Spiritual Sea; behind her, the Fire Martial Intent rune-wheel spun like a disciplined sun, compressing every stray thread of flame into something sharper.
Ren watched it all in a single breath… and then let it go.
"I plan on teaching the Dao, not babysitting it," he said casually. "If I stand over their shoulders for every circulation, all I'll raise are puppets that only move when I pull the strings. That's not the path I want to preach."
Na Yi's long lashes lowered thoughtfully.
"You laid the foundation," she said softly. "Now you want to see who can build their own house."
"That's right." Ren's smile was faint but warm. "A martial heart that only walks where I point isn't worth much, is it?"
Na Shui puffed out her cheeks.
"So we get you instead," she concluded. "While they suffer outside."
"See?" Ren said, voice amused. "Heaven is fair."
Na Shui laughed, bright and clear in the soft morning.
She shifted, sliding higher up his chest until their faces were close. The usual spark of mischief in her eyes softened, heat tempered by something deeper.
"…Ren," she murmured.
He knew what she wanted before she finished the syllable.
Ren tilted his head and closed the remaining distance.
Their lips met in a kiss that was unhurried, deep. Not the desperate collision of scarred survivors clinging to life, but the slow, greedy warmth of someone who finally believed they had a future. Her true essence trembled, Fire Laws rippling once before settling again, the taste of her breath hot and faintly sweet.
Na Yi turned her face away—for a moment.
Her fingers, however, tightened over his sleeve.
Ren broke the kiss only when Na Shui's breath grew short. She clung to his shirt, face flushed, eyes unfocused.
"Too much?" he asked lightly.
Na Shui's answer was to burrow into his chest, hiding the flush in his robe.
"…No," came the muffled protest.
Ren's free hand slid along Na Yi's arm, fingers brushing her wrist.
"And you?" he asked, turning slightly toward her. "Feeling left out?"
Na Yi's lips twitched.
"I am not a child," she said, attempting composure. "I can wait my turn."
The tips of her ears, however, had turned the color of steamed shrimp.
Ren shifted, drawing her closer without giving her a chance to retreat. One hand slipped to the back of her neck, warm and steady; the other still cradled Na Shui against him.
Na Yi's breath hitched.
"Ren—"
He kissed her too.
Where Na Shui answered with quick heat, Na Yi's response was slower, but deeper. Her lips were cool for a heartbeat, then warmed under his, the calm surface of her heart rippling quietly. Inside her, the Fire Martial Intent rune-wheel spun once, compressing the heat of her emotions into something sharp and bright.
By the time he let her go, the steady lake in her gaze had picked up tiny waves.
"…You," she said softly, voice a little hoarse, "are dangerous."
"Only to enemies," Ren replied with a faint grin. "To you two, I'm just greedy."
Na Shui made a pleased little sound, hugging him tighter.
Na Yi exhaled, long and slow, as if releasing years of tension.
"If you spend all day like this," she said, "the Martial House will complain."
Ren grinned.
"They can line up and file a formal protest with my Dao Heart," he said lazily. "I promise to ignore it fairly."
The two sisters laughed together, their voices mingling under the pine.
Sometimes, moments like this edged out even teaching the Dao. Only exploration, discovery, and battle really matched the feeling.
His Dao was not one of austerity.
It was a broad, greedy road that refused to bend to anyone else's priorities. He would spread that path, show cultivators ways to refine themselves, raise the world's lower limit if he could—but his women came first. Always.
That wasn't something he apologized for.
That was part of his Dao.
…
After that lazy morning beneath the old pine, Ren lifted his gaze and swept it slowly around his courtyard.
Compared to the bustle of Seven Profound Martial House, his courtyard had grown both quieter and warmer.
Quieter, because he had laid down a formation that gently muffled outside sound. The harsh shouts and clashing true essence of training grounds faded at the boundary, dissolving into a distant murmur. Within these walls, wind in pine needles and the soft splash of the spirit spring dominated.
Warmer, because more girls had simply… never gone back.
Murong Zi, Bai Jingyun, and Qin Xingxuan had all found reasons—proper reasons, on paper—to "temporarily cultivate near Senior Brother Ren's spirit spring."
It started with talks on martial skills and the Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram. Then staying late into the night to refine circulations. One night became two. Two became a week. Ten days. Before anyone realized, the three proud girls of Seven Profound Martial House practically lived here.
Ren didn't complain.
He renovated.
The modest yard that had once held only the old pine, a small spirit spring, and a single house quietly expanded under his guidance. Stone paths, laid by his own hand and guided by his Dao of formations, curved between new pavilions. Each pavilion contained a small cultivation room and a sleeping chamber, arranged around the pine like petals around a flower.
Murong Zi's pavilion was the most open.
Its windows faced the sunrise. A wide weapons rack lined one wall, already holding spears of different lengths and thicknesses, each forged from different materials so she could feel subtle changes in weight. The floor was reinforced to withstand her full-force strikes; faint formation lines promised to absorb spilled true essence instead of letting it leak uselessly into the air.
Every morning, she could roll from bed, grab a spear, and jump straight into practice as dawn light washed the courtyard gold.
Qin Xingxuan's pavilion sat at a precise angle.
From her window, she could see the distant training fields of Seven Profound Martial House and the faint silhouette of Sky Fortune City's walls. Shelves lined one wall, already filling with military texts and formation sketches. A plain, tidy writing desk stood by the window, an inkstone and brush set eternally ready.
Here, the granddaughter of Sky Fortune Kingdom's founding general could read troop movement diagrams and cultivation notes while listening to the spirit spring's burble, one foot in war, one foot in peace.
Bai Jingyun's pavilion was understated but elegant.
Delicate screens carved with plum blossoms separated the cultivation room from the sleeping area. A small stone table and two chairs sat by a window that offered a view of both the spirit spring and the pine tree, balanced and harmonious. A simple incense burner rested in a corner, its scent soft and clean.
It was dignified without being ostentatious—just like her.
Formations beneath each pavilion quietly adjusted worldly energy flows, matching them to each woman's comprehension of Fire Laws and their own martial intents. Dao lines from his Primal Chaos Meridian Canon and Heaven-Opening Origin Art threaded the whole courtyard together into a living array.
In this time period before Seven Profound Valley's response reached him, Ren wasn't only with his women in the other world.
Here, in Sky Fortune Kingdom, in Seven Profound Martial House, he was drawing these girls closer, knot by knot.
And Ren already knew who he was going to visit first.
…
That afternoon, the sun climbed high over Seven Profound Martial House. Heat shimmered faintly above roof tiles; worldly energy flowed like a slow river along the mountain winds.
In Heavenly Abode's inner courtyard—now linked to Ren's expanded yard by subtle formations—Murong Zi's spear whistled through the air.
She wore a simple training outfit, shoulders bare, long black hair tied up high. Every thrust and sweep carried the sharp edge of someone who had held a spear since childhood. Fire-aspected true essence wrapped the spearhead, leaving afterimages in the air like petals of red flame.
Under Ren's guidance, the Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram had carved a new rhythm into her meridians. Gone was the crude burning of ordinary Fire true essence. In its place, her energy circulated in tight, luminous loops—every breath tempering her bones, every exhale honing her spear intent.
She finished a set, spear planted in the ground, chest rising and falling just a little faster than normal.
"Not bad," a relaxed voice floated over. "Your flame's finally stopped tripping over itself."
She turned sharply.
Ren Ming leaned against one of the new pavilion pillars, arms folded loosely across his chest, white robe half-open at the collar. He hadn't bothered to conceal his presence; she had simply been too focused to notice.
Her heart skipped.
"Senior Brother Ren," she said, forcing herself to swallow the little start. Her voice remained bold, but a faint flush climbed her neck. "When did you come?"
"From the start," he replied. "If your awareness drops just because you're serious, that's still a flaw."
Murong Zi reflexively stuck out her tongue, then caught herself and coughed lightly, straightening up.
"Then… Senior Brother Ren," she said, eyes bright with fighting spirit. "Please advise."
Ren pushed off the pillar, steps unhurried.
"Advise, huh…" He tilted his head as if considering. "I do have something in mind."
She tightened her grip on the spear.
A spar?
Her blood stirred at the thought. Spear against bare hands, Fire Martial Intent colliding with whatever strange path he walked—her heart thumped faster just imagining it.
Ren stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly to meet his gaze.
"Zi," he said, dropping the honorific without a shred of hesitation, "come spend some time with me."
Her thoughts went blank.
"…Ha?" She nearly lost her hold on the spear.
His expression was as calm as if he'd just asked for more tea.
"I've been working you all pretty hard," he went on. "Seems only fair I steal you myself for a while, don't you think?"
Murong Zi's heart hammered.
Seven Profound Martial House's Murong Zi was famous for her straightforwardness. She'd dared to clash spears with anyone in the Ranking War, dared to shout at Elders if she thought they were being unfair.
But this… was different.
"W-we're in the Martial House," she managed. "If people see us…"
"Well, this is my courtyard," Ren said easily. "And so what if they see?"
His eyes curved faintly.
"What, you're scared of that?"
Her pride flared at once.
"Of course not," she shot back.
"Good."
His hand moved. Before she could react, he had smoothly taken the spear from her and rested it against the wall, spear butt slotting perfectly into a groove in the stone he'd placed there days ago.
He did it like he'd done it thousands of times.
"Then come here," he said.
Murong Zi blinked. "Come… where?"
"Here," he repeated, stepping in and reaching out.
His arm slid around her waist with practiced ease, drawing her toward him until she bumped into his chest.
Her mind went white for a breath.
His body was warm. The faint scent of pine, medicinal herbs, and something sharper—like thunder on dry stone—wrapped around her.
"You—" Murong Zi's loud voice shrank to a whisper. "You're, ah… very close…"
"Mhm." His smile didn't fade. "Feels good though, right?"
Her ears burned.
"This is… improper…" she said weakly. "We're not… married…"
Ren chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest into her bones.
"Where I'm from, courting's done properly too," he said. "You like me, I like you. We spar together, cultivate together, sleep in the same courtyard. Hugging a girl I'm serious about is very proper."
The phrase "serious about" struck harder than any spear.
Murong Zi tried to twist free, stubborn instinct fighting the softness blossoming in her chest. But her strength was nothing beside his. He wasn't even using true essence. He just… didn't move.
"Senior Brother Ren…" she grumbled, embarrassment tangling with a strange sweetness. "If the Elders see this…"
"Then," Ren said lightly, "I'll hug you tighter so they understand clearly."
Murong Zi stared up at him.
She'd been courted before.
Young masters with greasy smiles and oily words. Ouyang Dihua's gaze that made her skin crawl, full of ownership and calculation. Men who liked her face, her talent, her value as a dual cultivation partner or political chess piece.
Ren's eyes held none of that.
He looked at her like someone he enjoyed having in his arms. Someone whose laughter made his day better. Someone whose spear intent he wanted to sharpen not because it was useful, but because it was hers.
"You really…" she said slowly, a laugh bubbling up despite herself, "don't care about anything."
"I care," Ren replied.
His hand slid up her back, fingers tracing the line of her spine through the thin fabric of her clothes, every touch steady and sure.
"I care about you."
The words were simple.
They landed heavy.
Murong Zi's throat tightened.
"Zi," he said softly, voice dropping, the lazy tone thinning out into something quieter. "You're strong. You know that. But strength doesn't mean you have to stand alone all the time. If you want me, then…"
His palm pressed between her shoulder blades, warm and solid.
"Lean a little."
Her heart trembled.
She did.
Her forehead came to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was slow, stable, like a drum beating in the depths of the earth. Her arms, which had been frozen awkwardly between them, slowly lifted and slid around his waist.
"…You're really shameless," she muttered, voice muffled.
"Mm. I've heard that once or twice," he agreed. "But you're not pushing me away."
She didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
He held her like that for a long time.
Fire-aspected true essence in her dantian, which had always danced too fast, calmed. Her breath unconsciously synced with his, the Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram in her meridians smoothing out. The Fire Martial Intent rune-wheel behind her spine turned more stably, as if this simple warmth had given it a clearer axis.
She felt it through the fluster.
After a while, she shifted, fingers curling into his robe.
"You… you're really—" she muttered.
"Shameless?" he supplied, amused.
"Addictive," she whispered, so softly only he could hear.
Ren's smile deepened, satisfaction hidden in the slight curve of his lips.
"Good," he murmured near her ear. "Remember this feeling. We'll slowly heat it up from here."
Her entire face went red.
…
Another day, dusk painted Seven Profound Martial House in shades of gold and indigo.
Ren's courtyard had grown quiet. The disciples had scattered to evening practice, missions in Sky Fortune City, or cultivation behind closed doors.
Under the old pine, Qin Xingxuan sat alone.
Her back was straight. Hands rested on her knees. She wore a simple blue dress, long hair tied in a neat braid that fell over one shoulder. A sword lay across her lap, its scabbard plain but perfectly maintained.
She carried herself like a soldier even when no one watched.
The granddaughter of Sky Fortune Kingdom's founding general could hardly move otherwise.
Since shifting into Ren's courtyard, her cultivation had advanced in leaps. The Heaven-Opening Origin Art ran steadily through her meridians, thickening her foundation. Her true essence no longer had the brittle sharpness of a young genius forced to advance too quickly; it flowed with the quiet weight of a river broadening over time.
But her shoulders were still too stiff.
Ren stepped out from the inner room, steps silent on stone. In his hand, he carried a pot of tea, steam curling gently into the cooling evening air.
"Xingxuan," he called.
She rose at once, setting the sword aside with careful hands. "Senior Brother Ren."
He clicked his tongue lightly.
"Still that stiff?" he said. "Sit."
She hesitated only a heartbeat, then obeyed, settling back under the pine as he sat beside her, leaning casually against the trunk. The bark pressed into his back; he seemed completely relaxed.
He poured tea into two cups and handed one to her.
She accepted it with both hands, posture still impeccable.
Ren watched her for a moment, then spoke like he was talking about the weather.
"You know," he said, "you don't have to sit like you're facing a military tribunal every time you see me."
Her grip on the cup tightened slightly.
"This disciple—"
"Not just my disciple," he cut in mildly. "The beautiful woman at my side."
Her breath caught.
"…You say such things too easily," she said. Her tone stayed calm, but the tips of her ears flushed faintly.
"Easily?" Ren huffed quietly. "I don't throw those words around. If I say it, I mean it."
He took a sip of tea, then set his cup aside and turned toward her fully.
"Xingxuan."
The way he said her name—steady, unhurried—made her heart quiver.
"Yes," she answered softly.
"Do you want this?" he asked.
She blinked. "This…?"
He raised one hand and gently rested it over her left shoulder.
Not heavy. Not forceful. Just warm.
"This life," he said slowly. "Following me. Sharing a courtyard with other women. Walking into places where death is normal and safety is the luxury. Having someone shameless enough to hug and kiss you in front of the entire Martial House if he feels like it."
His eyes, usually lazy, sharpened. The warmth didn't fade, but something in his gaze settled into place, solid and unyielding.
"This path isn't easy," he said quietly. "I won't lie about that."
Qin Xingxuan's heartbeat sped up.
She thought of her grandfather, the old general whose back was still straight despite his age. Of stories about battlefields where corpses piled like mountains and blood flowed like rivers. Of expectations placed on her shoulders from birth—be strong, be calm, never shame the Qin name.
She had chosen to enter Seven Profound Martial House with her own feet.
She had chosen to walk into Ren's courtyard, too.
"I…" She began, then paused, throat tight.
Ren didn't push.
He waited.
"I came here because I wanted strength," she said at last, fingers tightening around the teacup. "Not just for myself. For my family, for Sky Fortune Kingdom. For the people who can't stand on the walls when enemies come."
Her voice dropped.
"But after meeting you, Senior Brother Ren…" She swallowed, eyes lowering. "…I realized I also wanted something more selfish."
"Oh?" Ren's tone softened. "Tell me."
She bit her lip.
"…I want to stand beside you," she whispered.
The words were quiet, but in the little courtyard, they rang louder than shouted vows.
Ren's smile was small, but genuine.
"Then that's enough," he said.
He set his own cup aside and, without giving her time to retreat, reached out and pulled her into his arms.
Qin Xingxuan stiffened.
She had stood on training fields under crushing pressure. She had faced killing intent. She had worn armor on the city walls during beast tides.
But this simple, warm contact made her more nervous than all of that.
Her body wanted to straighten, to maintain the perfect posture drilled into her since childhood. Her mind whispered that this was improper, that unmarried girls shouldn't—
"Breathe," Ren murmured.
His chin rested lightly on top of her head. One hand was firm against her back. The other settled over her hand where it still clutched the teacup.
"You're safe," he said quietly. "Here, you don't have to be General Qin's granddaughter. You don't have to be a 'core disciple' anything. You can just be Xingxuan. That's enough for me."
Her vision blurred.
It was ridiculous.
She hadn't cried when she'd been injured. She hadn't cried when her grandfather came home with blood on his armor and coughs that shook his frame.
But with his voice low in her ear, telling her she was allowed to just be herself, her nose stung.
"Ren," she whispered, forgetting the honorific without realizing it.
"Mm?"
"Am I… allowed to be selfish like this?" she asked. "To want strength and still want… this?"
He laughed quietly.
"If you aren't," he said, "then what am I doing?"
He leaned back slightly, enough that she could feel his chest move with his breath.
"My whole Dao is selfish, Xingxuan," he said. "I'll crush worlds if it makes life better for the women I love. Compared to that, stealing a little time just to hold you is nothing."
Her fingers loosened around the teacup.
He gently took it from her and set it aside, then wrapped both arms around her, pulling her fully against his chest.
Her ear pressed to his robe. His heartbeat filled her world, steady and undeniable.
Time stretched.
She didn't know how long they stayed like that. The sky slowly shifted from gold to deep blue. A breeze stirred the pine needles above, carrying the sharp scent of resin and distant cooking fires from the city below.
The Heaven-Opening Origin Art in her body, which had always run a little too rigidly, softened. The loops Ren had carved into her true essence circulation caught each tiny disturbance in her emotions and fed them back into her foundation, refining both her will and her path.
Her Martial Heart, which had always felt like a flag nailed to a city wall—firm but lonely—slowly settled.
"Ren," she murmured again, much later.
"Hm?"
"If… if I weren't talented," she asked softly, "if I weren't a core disciple, if I were just an ordinary girl… would you still…"
"Like this?" he finished for her.
She nodded against his chest, barely daring to breathe.
"Of course," he said, without even a heartbeat of hesitation. "You think I pick women based on cultivation talent? If that were true, half the girls around me would be 'unqualified.'"
He snorted lightly.
"I've seen too many so-called geniuses with rotten hearts," he said. "Compared to them, a girl who keeps walking even when no one's watching—that's worth more than a hundred heaven-blessed seedlings. That's my taste."
Her breath caught.
"…You noticed?" she whispered.
"Every time," he replied simply. "Every time you force yourself to relax your shoulders. Every time you stay behind to finish basic stances when everyone else has left. Every time you choose to stay here, instead of going back to your old courtyard because it's 'proper.'"
His hand moved slowly up and down her back, steady and reassuring.
"Xingxuan," he said. "You chose me. That alone is reason enough for me to hold you like this."
Something in her chest finally loosened.
Her arms, which had been hovering uncertainly, slid up and around his waist. She clung to him, just a little.
"…Then please don't let go," she said.
"I wasn't planning to," Ren answered.
He kept his word.