The cottage stood alone on the edge of a dry hill. Behind it, woods stretched thinly toward farmland. Ahead, the distant town of Cloud Mist Valley rose with gentle slopes and quiet lanes.
Huo Yuhao woke before sunrise every day.
He always moved softly—so he wouldn't disturb Yun'er.
She slept longer now, which meant the fever hadn't returned.
He stood barefoot on the dew-covered ground, moving through a silent kata with his eyes closed. Every breath drew cold air into his lungs, every exhale steady and controlled. No wasted motion.
His blade, still simple and worn, followed his movements in silence.
Afterward, he boiled water, ground herbs, and re-checked Yun'er's medicine schedule.
---
When she woke, she found tea beside her bed and porridge warming over the stove.
"You never rest," she murmured one morning.
"I do," Yuhao replied, stirring the pot.
"When?"
"While standing."
She rolled her eyes—something new.
He looked back, quiet. "You're feeling stronger."
She nodded. "My legs don't shake as much now."
That night, he adjusted her dosages.
> [Physical Recovery: 13% Complete]
[Vital Decline: Halted]
[Muscular Strength: Increasing Slowly]
[Emotional Stability: Positive]
[Treatment Plan: Adjusted—Add Nutrient Broths + Nighttime Acupressure]
---
The town's healer was a wiry old man who didn't ask questions. Yuhao came once a week to buy dried herbs or brewing tools. He paid in cash and always asked about root pairings and extraction timing—not as a student, but as a fellow practitioner.
The man noticed.
"You study alone?" he asked once, while wrapping licorice root.
Yuhao nodded. "Self-taught."
The man grunted. "Learned more than some apprentices I've had."
That week, Yuhao was allowed into the backroom to grind seeds and process herbs by hand.
He learned fast.
Not for titles.
Not for praise.
But because every improvement in skill meant Yun'er could breathe easier.
---
They kept their life simple.
In the mornings, he trained, cooked, and studied. In the afternoons, he took Yun'er into town with slow steps, letting her walk a little farther each time.
They bought cloth and vegetables. Sometimes sweet rice cakes.
He let her choose them.
Once, she chose two by mistake and panicked, thinking they'd have to put one back.
He paid for both without blinking.
"I can return it," she said quickly.
He just handed her one cake and walked on. "Eat it before it gets cold."
She looked at it. Then smiled for the first time in weeks.
---
At night, he continued his inner training.
Projection magic had stabilized—he could now recreate simple objects from memory, enough to visualize internal injuries or simulate healing responses in illusion.
> [Projection Magic Efficiency: 46%]
[Soul Power Circulation: Balanced]
[Sword Forms: Stabilized. Ready for Foundation Layer Advance]
[Medical Knowledge: Intermediate Tier 3 – Nearing Advanced Herbology]
He used one illusion every evening before sleeping—recreating Yun'er's pulse pattern and muscle flow from the day, adjusting his treatment plan accordingly.
He never skipped a night.
Not once.
---
Some evenings, she would watch him from the doorway, wrapped in a wool blanket.
"You always think so hard," she whispered once.
He blinked. "Thinking keeps you alive."
She walked over slowly, sat beside him, and leaned her head on his shoulder.
"And sometimes," she murmured, "just being here is enough."
He didn't respond.
But he didn't move away either.
---
The stars above Cloud Mist Valley never seemed too bright.
But to them, this quiet life already felt like something rare.
Not freedom.
But safety.
A place to grow.