After Yu Tao'er left, Lin Yun didn't immediately go to bed. He pulled up his system interface.
The daily missions were simple: meditate for an hour and gather five common Spirit Larkspur flowers from the garden. They were trivial tasks, offering a paltry 15 EXP combined, but every little bit counted. He couldn't let his EXP stagnate.
He spent the next hour in quiet meditation, circulating his Qi and solidifying his 3rd Level Qi Condensation foundation.
Afterward, he slipped outside into the moonlit courtyard and quickly plucked the required flowers, their petals glowing faintly. The missions completed with soft chimes, and his EXP inched forward to 165/1000.
Satisfied with this small progress, he finally allowed himself to sleep.
***
The next morning, they set off. Yu Tao'er had arranged for a simple but sturdy horse-drawn carriage, emblazoned with the Lin Clan's insignia—a coiled, verdant dragon. A hired coachman sat at the front, leaving Lin Yun and Tao'er inside the cushioned compartment.
As the carriage rolled out of the academy's grand gates and into the streets of Fortune City, Lin Yun found himself captivated by the view. He had the memories, but seeing it with his own eyes was a different experience entirely.
The academy was located in the city's western district, an area of quiet grandeur and sprawling estates. But as they traveled east, the city transformed.
The streets widened into grand avenues, then narrowed again into bustling, chaotic market lanes. Towering pagodas stood beside multi-storied restaurants emitting delicious aromas. Shops selling everything from gleaming spiritual weapons to rare herbs and shimmering fabrics lined the streets.
The air was thick with noise—the calls of vendors, the clatter of carts, the chatter of thousands of people, and the occasional roar of a powerful spirit beast being led on a leash.
Cultivators in fine robes brushed shoulders with merchants in silks and laborers in rough-spun cloth.
Lin Yun stared, utterly marveled. He had lived in Shanghai, one of the most bustling metropolises on Earth, but it couldn't even be compared to this city.
The scale was breathtaking. The sheer density of life and activity was beyond anything he had ever witnessed. The memories did it no justice.
Yu Tao'er, sitting across from him, poured a cup of steaming spirit tea from a small, travel-sized set. "Here, Young Master. The journey will take a few hours."
She handed him the cup, her expression then turning worried.
"Young Master... about the gift for the Patriarch..." she began hesitantly. "I've been thinking, but we truly have no funds to purchase anything worthy. Perhaps... perhaps we could ask Second Young Miss for help at the manor?"
Lin Yun took a sip of the fragrant tea. It was warm and soothing. He looked at her anxious face and offered a calm, reassuring smile.
"Don't worry about it, Tao'er," he said. "I have it handled."
As he had made his decision days ago, he would gave his grandfather the system's optimized recipes for the Basic Qi Gathering Pill and Body Tempering Pill. There was nothing for him to worry about.
Seeing his confident demeanor, Yu Tao'er felt a wave of relief, though confusion lingered. How could he have a gift prepared? She decided not to press, trusting this new, assured version of her Young Master.
Lin Yun deftly changed the subject. "Tao'er, what about my eldest brother? Do you know if he will return for the celebration?"
Yu Tao'er's eyes brightened at the mention of the eldest young master. "The Eldest Young Master is in seclusion, preparing to enter the Floating Cloud Secret Realm. It's a very important opportunity. But... it's very likely he will return. The Old Patriarch's birthday is a major event for the clan. I haven't received any official message yet, but I believe he will try his best to be there."
Lin Yun nodded slowly, looking out the window at the passing cityscape. He had met his fiercely protective second sister, Lin Wanrou. Now, he was intensely curious about this legendary eldest brother.
The memories painted a picture of a peerless genius, a figure of almost mythical stature.
Lin Feng was the "someone else's child" that parents used to shame their own, the benchmark against which all other young talents in Fortune City were measured.
He doted endlessly on his younger siblings, especially the underachieving Lin Yun, his protection a fearsome force that ensured no one dared bully them openly.
But beyond his fearsome reputation and his brotherly affection, the memories were vague on the specifics of his power.
How strong was he, truly? What realm had he reached? The original Lin Yun had been too awestruck and distant to truly comprehend the gap between them.
Lin Yun felt a complex mix of anticipation and... a faint, competitive spark. He was no longer the cowering younger brother. He was a player with a system, walking a path of his own. He was curious to meet this heavenly genius, to see for himself the height he would one day need to reach, and perhaps surpass.
After what felt like hours navigating the bustling city, the carriage finally turned onto a wide, impeccably clean avenue that was noticeably quieter and more guarded. The sounds of the market faded, replaced by a sense of imposing grandeur.
Up ahead, a magnificent gate came into view. It was constructed of dark, polished ironwood and stood over ten meters high. Two massive stone qilins, mythical beasts symbolizing prosperity and wisdom, flanked the entrance, their carved eyes seeming to watch all who approached.
Above the gate, a large, black plaque bore the powerful, golden characters: "Lin Manor."
Lin Yun felt a strange tightness in his chest. He pulled the curtain aside slightly, his gaze fixed on the imposing structure.
This was his "home." The memories were there—the feel of the stone pathways, the scent of the ancestral hall's sandalwood, the stern face of his father—but they felt like data files, not lived experiences.
A profound sense of strangeness washed over him.
How do those protagonists in the novels do it? he wondered, a wry thought crossing his mind. They just wake up, accept their new identity, and immediately start plotting to conquer the world. It's so... straightforward.
But this was reality. There was no narrative convenience, no authorial hand guiding his emotions.
He was a soul from another world, squatting in another man's body, about to walk into another man's family. The dissonance was jarring.
He could only brace himself, compartmentalize the surrealness, and focus on the role he had to play. Adaptation wasn't an option; it was a necessity for survival…