Chapter 1: Birth in Silence (Part 4/4)
At two and a half, Yuhao began training his body—quietly.
Nothing dramatic. No weighted clothes or forced stances. Just controlled movement.
He walked the room in straight lines, heel-to-toe, every morning and evening. Practiced balance on one foot until his legs trembled. Gripped a broom handle and mimicked thrusts, steps, then sheathing, like he'd seen in ancient drills from his memories.
His body was small, but it listened well.
> [Basic Sword Technique Progress: 27%]
[Basic Movement Technique Progress: 32%]
[Efficiency Modifier Applied: +40% Learning Rate]
More importantly, his breathing was controlled. Calm. He learned to move without noise, to fall without bracing loudly, to reach things without dragging attention.
The servants stopped noticing him.
Yun'er noticed, though.
"You've gotten so good at moving quietly," she remarked one day while folding laundry. "I used to worry you'd fall every few steps."
Yuhao nodded.
He didn't speak much. Not because he couldn't—but because Yun'er often looked tired, and he wanted to save her voice.
They communicated more through gestures now. A look. A nod. The way he brought her tea after her morning cough, or the way she pressed her cheek to his temple when he helped her to bed.
---
By three, Yuhao had gathered every herb he could identify from the estate's surroundings.
Some were common: ginger, licorice root, dried plum bark. Others he'd spotted near the refuse dumps or unused garden walls—like breathleaf and frost-willow twigs, which he shaved finely and mixed with boiled water to open Yun'er's lungs at night.
She improved again.
Not drastically. But she stood straighter. The pain in her side came less frequently. Her steps were firmer in the yard when she walked to fetch water.
"I'm not sure how," she said once while brushing Yuhao's hair, "but I really do feel like I'm getting better. Maybe it's just you being here."
He sat quietly, letting her comb out the knots.
The words were enough.
---
Spring came early that year.
Yuhao spent more time outside, always careful not to draw attention. His eyes tracked the stars, memorized weather changes, wind flow, even the sound of soil turning soft after light rain.
When it was safe, he snuck out past the north gate and sat among the tall weeds.
He meditated.
Or, at least, mimicked the process.
He couldn't circulate soul power yet. His Martial Soul hadn't awakened. But the system helped. Slowly adjusting his internal breathing. Preparing the pathways. Conditioning his tendons and bones.
> [Physical Growth: +5% Above Normal for Age]
[Mental Growth: +19% Above Normal for Age]
[Soul Power Circulation Channels: Developing]
[Martial Soul Awakening Estimated: 2 Years, 4 Months]
Time was on his side.
---
Back home, Yun'er began saving coins.
Just small ones. Washed and flattened copper from spare change she received when doing laundry for outer guests. She stored them in a clay jar behind a loose brick beneath the bed.
"We'll need money someday," she told Yuhao one night as he watched her hide them. "I don't know how or when, but something tells me we won't be here forever."
He nodded.
She looked down at him and smiled. "Strange. It's like you already know."
He did.
He was preparing for it.
---
That summer, Yun'er fell ill again.
Not as bad as before. But the fever lingered for days. She lost her appetite, her strength, and some color in her face.
Yuhao took over everything.
He gathered water. Brewed medicine. Sat beside her at night to press cold cloths against her forehead. He didn't sleep more than three hours a night during the worst of it.
When she opened her eyes one dawn and saw him slumped asleep against her mattress, her hand reached out and brushed his hair aside.
She said nothing.
But her chest shook faintly. And a tear slid down her cheek before she closed her eyes again.
---
By autumn, she had recovered.
Yuhao returned to his routine. But with one added goal:
Leave.
Not immediately. But soon.
When his Martial Soul awakened, he would take her and go. Quietly. Without drama. Without revenge. Just away—from this cold estate, from the servants who stared, from the rooms that smelled like rot.
He didn't know where yet.
But somewhere with sky. Somewhere clean. Somewhere she could breathe.
He began mapping the routes in his head. Checking when the outer walls were least watched. Watching merchant wagons roll in and out. Timing foot traffic.
Every step was deliberate.
---
One night, Yun'er tucked him in with a new blanket.
Not much better than the old one. But cleaner. Better sewn. She had stayed up late to finish it, pricking her finger twice in the process.
"Do you like it?" she asked, brushing his cheek.
He nodded.
She smiled, then sat down beside him. "Yuhao… you've always been a quiet boy. But I feel like I don't have to worry when you're here. Even when I'm tired, I know you're watching over me."
She rested her hand gently over his.
"I just want to give you a good life. Even if it's small."
He didn't say anything.
He just squeezed her hand back.