The sky above Qing Mao Mountain was bright and clear, a flawless shade of blue as if the entire heavens had been freshly washed. The sun shone down, its light warm and golden.
It had been more than a month since Fang Yuan had locked himself away in his room, focused entirely on his cultivation.
In the main hall, Jiaying sat restlessly, her gaze constantly drifting to the door of Fang Yuan's room.
Her concern grew with each passing moment.
After a long silence, she stood, unable to stay still any longer.
She walked toward the door, pausing for just a moment before gently knocking.
Knock.
Knock.
"Who is it?" Fang Yuan's voice came from inside, calm and composed.
"It's me," Jiaying replied, her voice laced with concern.
"What is it, Mother?" he asked, his tone even.
"Yuan'er... it's been over a month," Jiaying hesitated, her worry creeping into her words.
"Have you refined the Moonlight Gu yet?"
There was a brief pause before she added, "Should I help?"
Her words hung in the air, and she waited, but all she heard in return was stillness.
After a brief silence,, Fang Yuan's voice drifted out from behind the door —
"Did something happen?" his voice was calm, steady, carrying not a trace of emotion.
Jiaying clasped her hands together, her voice soft but anxious.
"I heard from the academy students… all the other children have already refined their Moonlight Gu."
"Even those with D-grade talent have succeeded."
She hesitated, glancing at the closed door as if it could somehow reveal what was happening inside.
"You have C-grade aptitude, Yuan'er."
"Everyone's asking why you haven't returned to the academy."
For a moment, there was only stillness.
Then Fang Yuan's voice came again —
"Tell them… I'm dropping out of the academy," his tone was cool, detached, slicing through her words like a blade through mist.
Jiaying froze.
"W–what?" she stammered, her voice trembling in disbelief.
"Mother, just do as I say."
From within the room came his reply, calm but resolute, carrying a quiet force that left no room for argument.
Jiaying lowered her gaze, a sigh escaping her lips, knowing that once Fang Yuan had decided something, not even she could change his mind.
After all, Jiaying, too, was a C-grade talent. She knew better than anyone how cruel and unyielding the path of cultivation could be.
She had awakened her aperture at fifteen — young, hopeful, and full of dreams.
By sixteen, she'd clawed her way to Rank 1 Middle Stage and graduated from the academy, her spirit still burning with ambition.
At eighteen, she met Fang Mo — a calm, determined classmate who had already reached Rank 1 Upper Stage despite possessing the same C-grade aptitude.
The two grew close, bound by shared struggle and silent understanding.
At twenty, Jiaying broke through to Rank 1 Upper Stage, finally standing shoulder to shoulder with Fang Mo.
Together, they defended each other, step by step, against the relentless onslaught of wolf Tide. It was a bloody victory born of perseverance.
When Fang Mo advanced to Rank 1 Peak Stage at twenty-three, Jiaying followed a year later.
Years passed.
Through hardship, clan missions, and endless nights of cultivation, they both advanced to Rank 2 at the age of twenty-six.
For a moment, life seemed bright — so they chose to share it.
They married that same year, and at twenty-seven, Jiaying gave birth to twin sons: Fang Yuan and Fang Zheng.
Both children brought hope in their lives.
But fate is never merciful.
At thirty-one, Fang Mo died, leaving behind a widow and two children.
The wound of that loss sank deep, twisting into bitterness. For many years, Jiaying's grief turned to blame — aimed at her eldest son.
Time dulled the edge of her pain, but not her weariness.
At forty, a serious injury shattered her foundation, dragging her cultivation back to Rank 1 Upper Stage.
Now, at forty-two, her strength was fading, and only one of her children — Fang Yuan — had inherited her C-grade aptitude.
She knew how hard that road would be.
She wanted to help, to guide, to protect him from the struggles she once faced.
But Fang Yuan was not like her.
He was calm, sharp, and far too intelligent for his age — a boy whose eyes seemed to see farther than anyone around him.
So even as doubt gnawed at her heart, Jiaying chose to trust him. She believed her son would never make a decision without reason.
...
Inside the quiet room, Fang Yuan sat cross-legged on his bed, his posture steady, his expression calm.
His gaze lingered on the closed door for a brief moment before he let out a faint sigh.
"It's really troublesome," he muttered under his breath, his tone indifferent, almost detached.
Then, he closed his eyes and focused inward.
Within his aperture, the Liquor Worm drifted lazily across the surface of the faintly rippling primeval sea.
The liquid within was sparse — only a small layer of black-green primeval essence flowed gently at the bottom.
No other Gu worms accompanied it.
"Let's focus on breaking through to Rank 2 first," Fang Yuan murmured.
With that, he steadied his breathing.
He picked up a few primeval stones, their faint glow reflecting in his calm eyes. Drawing on their energy, he steadily recovered his primeval essence.
...
Inside the wine tavern, the air carried the faint scent of liquor and female scent.
Fang Zheng stood near the counter, his sharp eyes sweeping over the bustling customers before turning to the shopkeeper.
"Have you prepared the bamboo wine and Moon Orchid Petals my brother needs for his cultivation?" he asked.
The middle-aged shopkeeper hurried forward, bowing slightly.
"Yes, young master. We've already delivered them to your home."
"They'll be handed directly to Lord Fang Yuan."
Fang Zheng nodded. "Good. Make sure they're sent every week — without fail."
The shopkeeper nodded again, his tone respectful. "Understood, young master."
As the man turned away, Fang Zheng's gaze lingered on the tavern's lively crowd.
A faint sigh escaped his lips.
"Brother… when will you come out?" he muttered.
Inwardly, he felt the weight of another problem pressing on him.
'Mother keeps pushing me about marriage…'
But how could he explain that his heart already belonged to Shen Cui — a servant girl from his uncle Dong Tu's household?
He knew his mother would never agree him to marry a servant.
"Brother, you have to help me," he whispered quietly, his voice almost lost beneath the chatter and clinking cups around him.