Chapter 77 – Starlit Courtyard and Shifting Bonds
The first light of dawn spilled gently through the Liu Clan's eastern windows, bathing the kitchen in a golden warmth that smelled of rice, herbs, and home.
Outside, dew clung to the leaves like beads of glass, and the faint chirp of sparrows broke the last remnants of night's stillness.
Lin Xuan opened his eyes to the world's soft awakening.
The Celestial Unity Crest thrummed faintly against his back, its pulse slow and even, mirroring the rhythm of his steady breathing.
He had meditated the entire night, balancing his qi between serenity and vigilance, yet even after so much power flowed through him, what he felt now was… peace.
Rare. Almost fragile.
He rose, rolling his shoulders, the faint jade sheen of the Jade Aegis fading from his skin. His body felt light, his spirit clear.
As he stepped into the hallway, the familiar scent of steamed rice and sweet ginger drifted to him, weaving through the morning air.
For a moment, he almost felt like the boy whose body he now inhabited—the boy who had laughed in this home before war, before the Black Tomb, before divinity and ruin.
"Almost," he murmured to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
When he entered the kitchen, the scene halted him.
Anika and Liu Yue stood side by side before the stove.
Liu Yue's crimson-ribboned hair swayed as she stirred the porridge with careful precision, while Anika—radiant and lively—commanded the space like she had lived there all her life.
She pointed at the younger girl's bowl, her voice teasingly dramatic.
"More salt, Yue'er! You'll kill your brother with bland food before any beast can!"
Liu Yue stuck out her tongue, grinning. "You're one to talk! You burned the congee yesterday!"
"I call it smoky flavor," Anika said, nose lifting in mock pride.
Laughter spilled from both of them, light and musical, blending perfectly with the sizzle of oil.
Lin Xuan froze by the doorframe, half-hidden in the morning glow, simply watching.
He had witnessed battles that shook the heavens, seen blood rain and stars fall—but never something as disarming as this: warmth.
Anika looked over her shoulder, catching his gaze.
A grin curved her lips, mischievous and unashamed.
"My clumsy husband is awake," she declared.
Lin Xuan's crimson eyes narrowed, but amusement tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth. "Stop calling me that."
"Why? You act like one. Brooding husband, always awake before dawn, staring dramatically at doorways."
Liu Yue burst into giggles, trying to hide behind her sleeve.
Lin Xuan sighed, walking past them toward the table, muttering, "You both make too much noise this early."
"Noise?" Anika gasped in mock outrage. "That's gratitude? After I, your devoted wife, prepared breakfast?"
Liu Yue's laughter redoubled, and even Lin Xuan couldn't hold back a smirk.
He took up a knife and began chopping vegetables beside them, movements crisp, clean, almost meditative.
Anika leaned closer, pretending to inspect. "Hmm. Not bad. You're finally learning how to slice without killing the produce."
He didn't reply, but his eyebrow twitched—a silent battle that made Liu Yue snort with laughter again.
When Luo Shuang appeared at the doorway, she paused—caught between authority and tenderness.
Her stern gaze softened as she took in the three of them.
For the first time in years, her home felt like a family again.
"Looks like the heavens took pity on me," she murmured. "You're all laughing instead of destroying my kitchen."
"Give us five minutes," Anika replied brightly.
When breakfast was ready, the family gathered around the low wooden table.
The morning light painted everything gold: the steam rising from the bowls, the gleam of porcelain, even the faint shine in their eyes.
Luo Shuang poured tea while Liu Yang—usually so stoic—ate with quiet contentment.
For a while, no one spoke.
The warmth of simple living filled the air, and Lin Xuan allowed himself to bask in it, even if he knew it couldn't last.
Then, as though guided by some inner pull, he looked up and asked, "Anika… your past. Who were you before all this?"
The clatter of chopsticks halted.
Anika's hands stilled. For a long moment, she said nothing, eyes lowering to her bowl.
When she finally spoke, her voice carried both distance and longing.
"Once," she said softly, "I had a family. A real one. Some of them are gone. Some are waiting for me somewhere I can't yet reach."
Her gaze lifted—gentle, but far away. "That's all I can say."
Her words floated in the quiet room, fragile as silk threads.
Lin Xuan watched her carefully. He could sense the weight behind that calm, the truth she wasn't ready to reveal.
But he didn't press. Not anymore.
Power had taught him that some truths could not be taken by force—they had to be given.
So he only nodded once and returned to his meal.
The rest of the family followed his lead, the air easing again, though the silence now carried meaning—respect rather than tension.
That night, the sky stretched endless and clear.
Stars hung like diamonds over the Liu courtyard, their cold shimmer mirrored in the stone tiles below.
The faint breeze carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine and distant rain.
Lin Xuan stood in the courtyard center, bare feet planted, hands relaxed at his sides.
Across from him, Liu Yue raised her sword, her breathing controlled but her excitement barely hidden.
"Senior Brother," she said with a determined grin, "don't hold back this time."
He smirked. "You say that every night, Yue'er."
Her eyes gleamed. "And one day, I'll mean it."
They began.
The first clash was almost silent—his hand deflecting her blade with measured ease, her movement flowing with Celestial Glide footwork he'd taught her months ago.
Their forms circled one another in a dance of momentum and precision, each step a study of rhythm.
Liu Yue darted low, her sword flashing in a crescent arc; Lin Xuan shifted weightlessly, his palm brushing the blade aside with perfect timing.
The clash of qi crackled in the air, scattering faint sparks of light across the stone.
"Better," he murmured.
"I've had good teachers," she replied between breaths, her strikes growing sharper.
He smiled slightly—rare, genuine.
When Anika joined them, the air seemed to shift, warmer somehow, like the night itself drew closer to listen.
She stepped barefoot into the courtyard, violet energy flickering around her fingertips.
"Mind if I play too?"
Lin Xuan raised an eyebrow. "You call this play?"
"I call this foreplay," she said with a sly grin.
Liu Yue choked, her sword faltering mid-swing as she stammered, "Anika!"
Even Lin Xuan froze for half a heartbeat before his face darkened. "Focus," he said sharply, earning a suppressed giggle from Anika.
She moved forward, summoning Eternal Soul Ember—a violet flame that burned not heat but emotion.
Its soft glow danced around her, illuminating the courtyard in shades of amethyst.
When Liu Yue struck again, Anika's energy wrapped her sword like a whisper, guiding her motion—her strikes now fluid, refined.
Every clash rang cleaner, every step found its balance.
Lin Xuan studied her. That violet flame… it didn't just empower, it harmonized.
An aura of guidance, not dominance. A bond.
"She's synchronizing with Yue's rhythm," he realized quietly.
The courtyard pulsed with life—the clatter of feet, the rustle of robes, the steady hum of qi.
Luo Shuang stood in the shadows by the veranda, her silver hair catching starlight as she watched.
Her eyes glistened—not with pride, but something gentler.
For the first time in years, the house she'd guarded alone was alive again.
Lin Xuan moved, intercepting both women with a sudden strike, his hand slicing through air, forcing them apart with a shockwave of wind.
"Enough," he said softly. "You're both pushing your qi too far."
Anika's violet flame dimmed; Liu Yue steadied her breath.
When silence returned, it wasn't empty—it pulsed with shared warmth.
For a moment, Lin Xuan simply stood there, surrounded by the family he'd fought to protect.
Anika's smile, mischievous yet soft.
Liu Yue's spark, full of faith.
His mother's shadow, strong but kind.
He realized then how fragile peace could feel—and how sacred.
Later, when the courtyard emptied and the stars deepened, he lingered alone.
The wind carried the scent of jasmine and steel, of earth and quiet memory.
He stared up at the constellations, their patterns reminding him of the Human Emperor Records—the same constellations the ancient cultivators once read for guidance.
His thoughts drifted: Is this what Father saw before he left us? Did he also stand beneath these stars, wondering if the path he chose would shatter his family?
Behind him, Anika's voice came softly.
"You look like you're talking to ghosts again."
He didn't turn. "Sometimes they're the only ones who listen."
She stepped closer, stopping beside him.
Her violet aura was gone now; only the soft glow of moonlight touched her face.
"Don't lose yourself to what-ifs, Xuan'er," she said. "Not all questions deserve answers right away."
He looked at her then—really looked.
Despite her teasing, there was a loneliness in her eyes he couldn't ignore.
The kind that comes from remembering too much, from living too long.
It mirrored his own.
"I'm starting to believe," he said quietly, "that peace might be harder to protect than war."
Anika smiled faintly. "Peace demands heart. War only needs rage."
Their gazes held for a breath longer before she turned away.
"Come inside," she said softly. "You'll catch cold."
But Lin Xuan stayed there, beneath the starlight, listening to the faint echo of her steps fade into the house.
The stars above seemed to shimmer closer, as though whispering a secret meant only for him.
And for the first time in a long time, he whispered back,
"I'll protect them. No matter what the heavens demand."