Dawn seemed to come early to Qingyun City. Perhaps the unease in the air only made it feel that way.
In the main courtyard of the Lin estate, the morning mist still clung to the eaves. Servants hurried past with lowered heads, their footsteps muffled, faces tight with unspoken dread. Word from the Zhao family had spread through the night: at the hour of mao, a Zhao elder would arrive in person to formally dissolve the engagement.
Lin Zhantian, patriarch of the Lin family, had not slept. He stood beneath the corridor, watching the pale light creep across the sky, new strands of white threading his temples. One more humiliation, and the Lin family might not survive it.
In his secluded courtyard, Lin Chen rose early and circulated the golden dragon aura through his meridians. Three years of secret healing had restored his body and steadied his heart. The ruthlessness of his past life had softened under the emotions he had inherited with this body.
He pushed open the window. Cool morning air carried the clean scent of the old plum tree. Last night, after Su Qingyao left, sleep had eluded him. Her tired eyes and quiet stubbornness filled his thoughts.
"Qingyao..."
He murmured her name, then washed and dressed. In the bronze mirror, his features looked sharp and refined. His eyes, however, seemed older than his face. He could crush the Zhao family today if he wished. He had other plans.
He wanted them to lower their guard first. Then he would make them answer for every slight.
The courtyard gate creaked softly open again.
Su Qingyao had come.
She wore a simple white dress today, hair pinned in a plain style that could not hide the weariness around her eyes. In her hands was another food basket, lighter than the night before.
"Good morning," she said from the doorway, voice soft as though afraid to disturb the mist.
Lin Chen turned and smiled faintly. "You didn't sleep well again."
She set the basket on the stone table. "Clear porridge with Ice Spirit Leaves. It should help you gather strength."
The meaning was unspoken, but Lin Chen understood. If conflict arose with the Zhao family today, he would need every advantage.
He stepped closer and took the bowl she offered. Steam rose in delicate curls, warming her cheeks to a faint pink.
"Qingyao, you don't need to worry."
She lowered her eyes. "I'm not worried. I just fear Father won't be able to hold them off. The Zhao family has two Innate elders now, and Zhao Wuji has broken through as well. If they press their advantage..."
She trailed off, but the anxiety in her eyes was plain.
Lin Chen set the bowl down and gently took her hand. This time she did not pull away.
"Qingyao, do you trust me?"
She lifted her gaze, worry shining in her eyes. "I do. I'm just afraid you'll push yourself too far."
His heart softened. In his previous life, death had held no fear. Now, the thought of causing her another tear was unbearable.
"I won't be reckless," he said, voice low and reassuring. "But I will not let them humiliate you."
Su Qingyao was quiet before she continued. "Lin Chen, do you remember when Zhao Ling'er first visited the estate? I was eight, she was nine. She said my Ice Spirit constitution was impressive, but too cold for anyone to love."
Lin Chen paused. The memory was hazy in the original owner's mind, yet carried the sting of a child's hurt.
"And then?" he asked softly.
Su Qingyao's lips curved in a rare, small smile. "Then you stepped forward and declared, 'Anyone who dares not want Qingyao, I'll beat them until they can't find their teeth.' You were only nine, but you made Zhao Ling'er cry."
Lin Chen smiled too. It was the original boy's memory, yet it warmed him all the same.
"I can still fight," he said. Then, quieter, "Only now, I won't need fists."
Su Qingyao studied his face. Complex emotions flickered in her eyes—hope, fear, and something deeper, carefully hidden: longing.
"Lin Chen, if we truly break with them today, the Lin family may face even greater hardship."
He shook his head. "We've endured hardship for three years. A little more changes nothing. Qingyao, I have only one question—will you stand with me through it?"
She went still.
For three years, everyone—even Su Qingyao—had urged her to let go. Hearing him ask directly finally broke through the wall she had built around her heart.
"I..." she whispered, "have been carrying it with you all along."
He drew her into his arms. She rested her forehead against his shoulder. "Lin Chen, don't make me wait any longer. Please."
Morning breeze stirred the plum branches overhead.
They stood in silence until the distant toll of a bell announced the approach of the appointed hour.
Su Qingyao stepped back, smoothing his collar with careful fingers. "Let's go. Father is waiting."
Lin Chen nodded and took her hand. Together they walked toward the main courtyard.
* * *
The grand hall was already filled.
Lin Zhantian sat upon the high seat, face grim. Below him, several Lin elders wore varying expressions of worry and anger, yet none dared speak.
Outside, the clatter of hooves announced arrival.
Zhao elder Zhao Tianhong entered with more than ten attendants, exuding arrogance. Zhao Wuji and Zhao Ling'er walked side by side; Zhao Ling'er wore bright red, triumph written across her features.
Zhao Tianhong offered a perfunctory salute. "Patriarch Lin, we come today for one matter only—the dissolution of the engagement."
He drew the betrothal contract from his sleeve and slammed it onto the central table.
"That contract was made when the Zhao family wanted our favor. Now Young Master Lin is 'indisposed,' and Ling'er has reached the Innate Realm. Forcing the match would harm both houses. Better that we part in peace."
The words were polite; the insult beneath them was bare.
Lin Zhantian's expression darkened, but he held his temper. "Elder Zhao, the betrothal was agreed upon by the grandfathers of both houses. It is not a trifling matter."
Zhao Tianhong sneered. "Trifling? The Lin family no longer possesses even a single Innate cultivator, yet still dreams of alliance with us? Patriarch Lin, do not mistake courtesy for weakness."
Zhao Ling'er stepped forward, voice clear and cutting. "Lin Chen, three years ago when you were still a genius, I might have accepted you. Now your meridians are severed; you will never cultivate again. Keeping this engagement only hinders me."
Her gaze swept the hall, lingering on Su Qingyao with deliberate provocation. "Besides, some people have guarded a cripple for three years. It's time they woke up."
Su Qingyao's fingers tightened, but Lin Chen's gentle grip steadied her.
At last Lin Chen stepped into the center of the hall.
His voice was calm, yet it silenced the room. "Zhao Ling'er, are you certain you wish to break this engagement?"
She laughed coldly. "Of course. You, a cripple—"
The word died in her throat as Lin Chen lifted his gaze—sharp as a blade.
For an instant, inexplicable dread gripped her heart.
Lin Chen spoke softly. "Breaking the engagement is acceptable. But has the Zhao family considered the consequences?"
Zhao Wuji burst into laughter. "Consequences? Boy, what consequences can you possibly bring to bear against the Zhao family?"
Zhao Tianhong gave a cold huff. "Lin Chen, know your place. Tear the contract quietly, or else—"
Before he could finish, the faint golden dragon aura within Lin Chen stirred, releasing the slightest wisp outward.
An invisible pressure settled over the hall.
Zhao Tianhong's expression changed; Zhao Wuji actually stumbled back a step.
Lin Chen regarded them, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly.
"Or else... what?"
Silence fell, thick enough to hear a pin drop.
Morning light spilled through the open doors, gilding Lin Chen's figure in pale gold.
Su Qingyao stood at his side, watching his profile, heart pounding.
Su Qingyao knew the dragon that had slept for three years was finally spreading its wings.