Morning light settled gently over the Osborn compound, touching tiled roofs and stone courtyards with a pale gold shine. The clan did not wake in chaos anymore. Movement was measured now. Disciplined. Even the younger members carried themselves differently. Shoulders squared. Steps quieter. Breathing steady.
Two months had changed more than the numbers on cultivation levels. Robert stood along the upper balcony of the main hall, watching the training yard below. Groups rotated through formation drills near the Battle Array chamber. Entry was regulated now. Clan points determined access. No more reckless attempts to prove oneself. The discipline pleased him.
He could sense it clearly — qi fluctuations across the courtyard were smoother than before. Fewer surges. Less waste. When spears struck training dummies, the impact carried controlled force instead of wild output.
