Age four brought steadiness.
Their days began early. Yuhao woke before dawn and swept the yard while the fog still hung low. Yun'er rose shortly after, and they shared hot water and steamed millet if they had it. If not, Yuhao found small mushrooms or dry root pieces from the shaded wall behind the laundry line.
The meals were simple. The life was small. But it was calm.
They had grown into each other's rhythms. One wordless glance between them often said more than speech. When she coughed lightly, he handed her the warm cup. When he frowned at a faded spot on her robe, she nodded and began patching it that evening.
The little routines stitched their bond tighter than any words could.
---
At night, while the estate quieted and the windows frosted, Yuhao read.
Not books—he had no access to formal scrolls or libraries.
He read movement. Gesture. Sound. The way a servant carried a bucket, the way pressure changed in the wind, the faint tremble in Yun'er's pulse when her illness flared.
> [Passive Learning Mode: Active]
[Projection Magic Synced with Observational Memory]
[Basic Medical Understanding: 17%]
[Estimated Treatment Path for Guardian: 23% Stabilization Achieved]
Progress was slow, but real.
He used scraps of paper to record combinations. Ground herbs with river stones. Brewed medicine so bitter even the courtyard cats wouldn't come near.
But Yun'er drank it.
Every drop.
---
One evening, as he adjusted the mix of breathleaf and smoked licorice, she smiled and said, "You'll be a better doctor than anyone in this estate."
Yuhao didn't answer.
He was focused on the color of the brew.
It was one shade too dark. The bitterness would linger longer in her throat. He'd adjust the boil time tomorrow.
Still, he nodded once.
He would be.
---
By five, his body was faster. Lighter.
He could run across the servant paths without being heard. Balance a full water pot with one hand. His breath never wavered in cold wind, and his grip was steady enough to hold a stitching needle if needed.
His mind was sharper too.
He practiced silent breathing techniques from system-fed body methods. Slept in controlled rhythms to increase dream stability and mental clarity. Analyzed every interaction in the estate—even between people who ignored him.
There were no role models here. No masters to guide him. Only observation and system efficiency to mold raw experience into mastery.
> [Sword Technique Progress: 54%]
[Movement Technique Progress: 68%]
[Medical Aptitude: Intermediate Tier 1]
[Projection and Analysis Magic: Early Synchronization Achieved]
Still no Martial Soul.
Still no soul power.
But the foundation was set.
---
In the spring of his sixth year, he found Yun'er sitting by the window, darning his old tunic.
Her hands shook more than usual.
The needle slipped.
Blood dotted the cloth.
He rushed to her without a word, knelt, and wrapped her finger in linen. Her hands were cold. Too cold for the season.
She smiled faintly, leaning her head back. "You'll be six soon."
He stayed silent.
She looked out the window. "When I was six, I didn't think much about the future. Just followed what I was told. But you…"
She turned back to him. "You're different. Always thinking. Always watching."
He looked up at her then.
And for the first time in days, said quietly, "Your fever came back yesterday."
She didn't argue.
---
That night, he sat beside her bed.
She slept lightly. Her pulse weak but steady. A deeper breath every minute or two. She was stable—but slipping.
Time was running out.
The Martial Soul awakening ceremony was soon.
And after that…
They would leave.