The evening cooking smoke drifted through the courtyard, carrying the warm scent of firewood and food in thin, curling wisps.
Fang Han pushed open the courtyard gate. His steps had lost their usual heaviness, replaced now by an easy lightness.
That crushing boulder that had weighed on his heart had finally been shattered today with a single punch.
"Big brother!"
A little figure in a red coat came toddling toward him. A grin broke across Fang Han's face as he crouched down, scooped his little sister Fang Ying into his arms, and tossed her high into the air.
The girl's brief shriek instantly gave way to bright, giggling laughter, her two skyward pigtails tracing a gleeful arc through the air.
"I'm flying! Higher, big brother, higher!"
Hearing the commotion in the courtyard, his father Fang Zheng and his mother Lin Wan came out from the house.
The faint, habitual worry on both their faces eased considerably at the sight of the brother and sister laughing together.
Seeing that long-absent, genuinely bright smile on Fang Han's face, the couple exchanged a glance, and each caught in the other's eyes the same look of relief.
As much as they hoped Fang Han would pass the family assessment and give their household its own Martial Artist—
—if he failed, they could accept that too. All they wished was that Fang Han wouldn't put too much pressure on himself.
"Xiaohan, you seem… awfully happy today?"
Lin Wan wiped her hands, her voice carrying a careful, probing note.
Fang Han set down his little sister, who was still squirming in his arms, his smile deepening. Meeting his parents' concerned gazes, he drew a deep breath.
"I broke through to the Flesh Refining Realm!"
"What?!"
The account book in Fang Zheng's hand hit the ground with a sharp clatter.
Lin Wan clapped a hand over her mouth, her lips trembling, wanting to say something but unable to form a single complete word.
Overwhelming joy surged like a warm tide, flooding the humble little courtyard in an instant.
"Good… good!"
Fang Zheng crossed the distance in a few strides and clapped his thick palm hard on Fang Han's shoulder.
"I knew it—I knew my son could do it!"
All that buried hope and worry now poured out as an excitement beyond words.
"Heaven be praised, heaven be praised!"
Lin Wan finally found her voice, the brightest smile in months blossoming across her face.
She swept the bewildered Fang Ying into her arms, her voice quivering.
"Xiaoying, did you hear that? Your brother's made something of himself! Our family… our family is going to have a Martial Artist!"
That night, the lamps in the little side courtyard burned late into the evening, and the mood around the simple dinner table was livelier than it had ever been.
Fang Zheng even broke his own rule and brought out a small treasured jug of good wine.
By the next morning, the news had sprouted wings and flown through the entire district where the Fang Family's branch lines lived.
"Did you hear? Fang Han, from the side courtyard next door—he broke through to Refined Flesh yesterday!"
"Really? You sure?"
"Absolutely certain! Plenty of people at the training grounds saw it!"
"My goodness, Fang Zheng and his wife have finally seen their hard days pay off!"
As Fang Han stepped out the courtyard gate on his way to the training grounds, face after face—some familiar, some not—smiled and offered their congratulations along the way.
"Fang Han, congratulations!"
"Good lad, you've done your parents proud!"
"Once you make it big, don't forget the rest of us!"
Fang Han thanked them with a smile, warmth flowing through his heart.
His parents stood at the courtyard gate to see him off, backs held ramrod straight, faces glowing as they basked in the envious looks and the well-wishes.
That vindicated joy was written plainly in every relaxed line of their faces.
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
The atmosphere over the vast training grounds hung heavy and still. The last light of the setting sun once again gilded the bluestone flagstones in gold, yet it could not dispel that oppressive solemnity.
Dozens of Fang Family disciples stood in rigid formation. The air seemed frozen, leaving only the steady, iron-hard "tap, tap" of Fang Zhen's footsteps striking the stone.
He mounted the raised platform, his gaze sweeping across the faces below—some flushed with excitement, others sunk in dejection.
"Today is the final deadline for the family's annual assessment."
Fang Zhen's voice was not loud, yet it cut clearly through every stray murmur, like a verdict handed down.
He unfurled the roster in his hand and read out, without the slightest waver.
"Those who have passed the assessment and are granted entry into the Inner Hall: Fang Han, Fang Lin, Fang Yue… eight in total."
In the end, only Fang Han had broken through to Refined Flesh within this final month's deadline and passed the assessment.
At this final verdict, some turned deathly pale, swaying on their feet.
Others clenched their fists so tightly that their nails nearly dug into their flesh.
And still others could no longer hold back, low, stifled sobs rising as fat tears splashed down onto the flagstones beneath their feet.
Gaze after gaze—mingled with resentment, jealousy, and deep, aching envy—fixed on Fang Han and the other seven like piercing thorns.
Those stares carried a heavy weight.
They were the fortunate ones left standing, and at the same time the bullseye onto which every failure now projected their bitterness.
Fang Han could feel the weight of those gazes clearly. He felt no pride—he simply stood there, calm.
Had the system panel not appeared, his fate would have been no different from theirs.
The next morning, before the sky had fully lightened, the air bit with cold.
Led by Fang Zhen, Fang Han and the other seven disciples who had passed the assessment made their way through the layered courtyards of the Fang Mansion, toward a deep, heavily guarded area—the Inner Hall of the Fang Family Martial Hall.
The buildings of the Inner Hall were noticeably more ancient and solemn than those of the outer hall. The air was thick with a richer, deep-settled scent of medicine, along with an intangible pressure that made one's spirit tighten with unease.
An old man with hair and beard gone entirely white—yet with a frame that showed not the slightest stoop—was already waiting at the entrance.
He wore a blue-green robe, his face lean and refined, his eyes gentle and serene. At first glance he looked like a schoolteacher.
But when his gaze swept over, Fang Han felt an invisible edge of Sharp Qi rush straight at his face, as though it could pierce through skin, flesh, sinew, and bone, cutting all the way to his organs.
His heart lurched violently.
So this was an Inner Hall Elder?
To hold the rank of Elder, he had to be a Martial Artist who had reached the Inner Qi Realm, beyond Bone Refining.
Just how strong an Inner Qi Realm Martial Artist truly was, Fang Han—born of a Fang Family branch line, having never come into contact with one—had no idea at all.
Now, at last, he had some sense of it.
That unfathomable aura far surpassed his Tutor Fang Zhen. If this man wanted to crush him to death, it would likely be as effortless as crushing an ant.
"Elder Yuan, the disciples newly entering the Inner Hall this year—eight in total—are all here."
Upon seeing the old man, Fang Zhen spoke respectfully, then gestured for Fang Han and the others to step forward.
"To enter my Inner Hall is to become a seed of our Fang Family's Martial Dao. I trust you will cultivate diligently and without pause, and not fail the family's expectations."
Elder Fang Yuan's gaze drifted slowly over the eight of them, calm and unruffled.
He paused, his tone flat, but his words set Fang Han and the others' hearts racing in an instant.
"As is customary, each disciple newly entering the Inner Hall is granted thirty taels of silver. Thereafter, each month, you may collect a monthly allowance of five taels and ten Qi Blood Pills."
Thirty taels?!
And five taels of silver plus ten Qi Blood Pills every single month?!
Prepared as Fang Han had thought he was, this treatment—far more generous than anything he'd imagined—left him a little dazed.
Thirty taels of silver was worth several months of his father's wages!
And those monthly Qi Blood Pills were something even finer than Qi Blood Soup.
The tremendous joy slammed against his chest; he could almost hear his own heart pounding, his blood surging in his veins.
The other seven were breathing heavily too, the excitement plain on every face.