The ascent into Qingzhu Mountain felt like entering a realm carved from mist and memory.
Bamboo rose on both sides of the stone path, tall and straight, their leaves whispering like distant rain. The qi here was thick—almost tangible—curling around Lin Fei's skin like cool threads of silk.
He paused for a moment, letting the mountain's breath wash over him.
This place… is alive.
Deep within his soul, the Heaven‑Falling Seal pulsed once—
a ring of drifting golden calligraphy forming in the darkness.
Root: Ninth‑Rank
Physique: Dao Dragon Physique — Dormant
Bloodline Strength: Unawakened
The characters dissolved.
Lin Fei's vertical pupils narrowed slightly.
"Still asleep," he murmured.
The dragon within him did not stir.
---
Qingzhu Courtyards
The Lin Family estate sprawled across the mountain in layers—pavilions, bridges, terraces, and courtyards arranged like a great formation. Streams wound through the stone paths, their waters glowing faintly with spiritual energy.
An elderly steward in gray robes approached, leaning on a bamboo cane.
"I am Lin Bo," he said, bowing slightly. "Steward of Qingzhu Courtyards. From today onward, this is where you will cultivate."
His eyes swept over the twelve surviving recruits—measuring, weighing, judging.
Lin Fei met his gaze without expression.
Lin Bo nodded faintly, as if satisfied.
"You will each receive a courtyard, a basic technique, and a place in the family records. Follow me."
As they walked, Lin Family youths watched from balconies and walkways—some curious, some dismissive, some openly disdainful.
Lin Fei ignored them.
He had seen death that morning.
Their gazes were nothing.
---
Return to Yuan Gong
His courtyard was small but quiet, shaded by bamboo and bordered by a low stone wall. A plum tree stood in the corner, its branches bare but elegant.
Lin Fei sat cross‑legged on the bed and placed the jade slip against his forehead.
A faint projection appeared—an illusory figure demonstrating the breathing patterns of Return to Yuan Gong, the Lin Family's foundational technique.
He followed the movements.
Qi seeped into his meridians like cold water through cracked stone.
Slow.
Resisted.
Reluctant.
His ninth‑rank spiritual root accepted each thread of qi grudgingly, as if doing him a favor.
Lin Fei's expression did not change.
This is the path I chose.
He inhaled.
The qi trembled.
He exhaled.
The qi settled.
Outside, the bamboo rustled softly.
Inside, the Heaven‑Falling Seal pulsed once, then stilled.
---
The Dust‑Washing Banquet
At dawn, a bell rang through the courtyards.
Lin Bo summoned the twelve recruits to a long hall lit by warm lanterns. Incense drifted through the air, carrying the faint scent of sandalwood.
"Today," Lin Bo said, "the Lin Family washes away the dust of your journey… and arranges your future."
Lin Fei understood immediately.
This was not a banquet.
It was a marriage selection.
The doors opened.
Women entered.
All bore the Lin surname—
some from main branches, some from collateral lines, some from distant side halls.
Their robes were clean and carefully chosen.
Their steps measured.
Their eyes hopeful.
They were not here for romance.
They were here for lineage.
Lin Fei sat quietly, posture straight, presence cold and ancient.
A stone in a river of silk.
---
The Two Sisters
They approached him together.
Sisters.
Their resemblance was clear, yet their temperaments diverged like two rivers from a single spring.
Lin Shuyin — Elder Sister
She bowed deeply, her movements graceful and controlled.
"I am Lin Shuyin, of the Qingzhu side branch," she said softly. "If you do not find me unworthy… I wish to serve at your side."
Her voice was gentle, but her eyes held quiet resolve.
Lin Shulan — Younger Sister
The younger sister stepped forward, cheeks slightly flushed.
"I am Lin Shulan," she said, bowing as well. "Elder Sister and I… we do not wish to be separated."
Her fingers tightened briefly in her sleeve.
Lin Fei studied them.
The elder was still water.
The younger was moving light.
Both were sincere.
He inclined his head.
"I accept."
The sisters exhaled in unison, relief softening their expressions.
Around them, whispers rose.
"Two sisters…"
"Fortunate…"
"Unusual…"
Lin Fei ignored them.
He had not come here for wives.
But the path had given him two.
He would not treat them lightly.
---
The Wedding
The Lin Family did not delay.
That afternoon, twelve simple ceremonies were held in the inner courtyards. Incense burned. Names were recorded. Vows were spoken.
Lin Shuyin stood on his right.
Lin Shulan stood on his left.
Both wore fresh robes, their hair arranged with understated elegance.
They bowed together.
"Husband."
Lin Fei looked at them.
"We walk forward together."
No promises of love.
No empty warmth.
Just a statement.
A path acknowledged.
---
Behind the Bamboo Door
When the formalities ended, the sisters followed him back to his courtyard.
The sky had darkened.
Lantern light spilled across the stone.
Lin Shuyin paused at the threshold.
"If, in the future, you wish us to leave," she said quietly, "sister and I will not resent you."
Lin Shulan bit her lip, eyes flickering with uncertainty.
Lin Fei looked at them for a long moment.
"You are now under my name," he said. "As long as you do not betray me, I will not cast you aside."
It was not tenderness.
But it was a promise.
The sisters bowed.
Inside his soul, the Heaven‑Falling Seal pulsed once—
a faint ring of golden calligraphy.
Not in warning.
Not in rejection.
In acknowledgment.
A dragon slept within him.
Two lotuses now shared his courtyard.
And Qingzhu Mountain, with all its hidden currents, watched in silence.
The path had not grown softer.
Only deeper.