Chu Yueli glanced around the hall, her eyes calm but quietly searching—as if confirming whether this was the right moment to expose a side of herself long buried.
Normally, she would never involve herself in contests like this. Painting, after all, wasn't a battlefield. It wasn't a cultivation path or a righteous duty. It was hers—a secret garden of stillness she had kept locked away behind icy doors.
But something had changed.
Seeing Qingyue step forward so fearlessly—graceful and unwavering for the sake of the Jin Family—had stirred something within her. A feeling of quiet solidarity. Sisterhood, perhaps. Or maybe just the simple understanding that sometimes, a hidden part of yourself must be revealed for the sake of those you care about.
And so, Chu Yueli made a choice.
The secret she had guarded for years—shared only with one person, Nezuko—was now about to be unveiled.
Her hidden talent.
Her other self.
Not the cold, untouchable Fairy of Frozen Glass that the world bowed before… but the girl who painted quiet mornings, mountain breezes, and laughing koi beneath moonlit streams. The girl with a soft heart and a brush she wielded like a whisper.
Even her sister, Little Fairy, didn't know this side of her.
But today, she would show it to the world.
Not out of pride… but out of purpose.
Then—
"May I take this one?"
All heads turned toward the quiet voice.
Chu Yueli.
The others looked at her in surprise. Even Qingyue's normally calm eyes widened.
"Master…. You… paint?" she asked, almost disbelieving.
"I do," Chu Yueli replied softly. "I kept it hidden from everyone. Even from you."
Even Jin Zhuo and his wife were stunned. Yun Che blinked.
The Fairy of Frozen Glass… paints?
Little Fairy furrowed her brow. "Li'er… since when?"
Chu Yueli gave a small, almost embarrassed smile under her veiled kasa hat. "All of us—Fairies of Frozen Cloud Seven Fairies—have hobbies. Some of the others lean toward collection, calligraphy… but mine was always painting."
She turned to her sister.
"You always thought such things were a waste of time, Nee-san. So I waited for you to leave on missions before I indulged myself. I'd quietly pick up the brush while you were away… I've hidden dozens of paintings in my room. Maybe hundreds by now."
Even Qingyue was speechless.
Yun Che smiled faintly.
"I suppose," he said, "still waters really do run deep."
This is the first time he heard the other side of Chu Yueli.
Chu Yueli stepped forward, every movement graceful, a quiet confidence emanating from her. The hall, so loud only moments ago, now fell into a hush—curious and unsure what the mysterious second fairy might bring to the table.
Cang Yue's eyes gently widened beneath her veil, the name "Chu Yueli" stirring a quiet memory in her heart.
Frozen Cloud Asgard… that snowy, still place.
Back when she had visited in secret under the guise of Nezuko, she had wandered curiously into Yueli's quarters by accident—drawn by the scent of dried ink and mountain blossoms. There, tucked away behind a simple screen, were the paintings.
At first, she thought them random—scribbles, half-finished doodles of plum blossoms and clouds with exaggerated expressions. But the further she looked, the more it transformed into a gallery of soul. Some pieces carried a whimsical lightness, while others... were genuine masterpieces of brush and spirit.
She remembered the way Chu Yueli had caught her and immediately flushed—not out of anger, but out of sheer embarrassment.
"Please... don't tell anyone, Nezuko. Not even your father." Chu Yueli had whispered, almost pleading. "Even my sister. She'll never let me hear the end of it."
And Cang Yue had smiled then, just as she did now. Even if for some reason she decided to share that hidden talent.
That memory was a precious one—another glimpse at the inner lives of the Asgardian Fairies. Despite their ethereal presence and legendary strength, they each had their human joys. Their quiet escapes.
Murong Qianxue, who gently arranged frost orchids and moon-petaled lotuses like they were priceless jewels.
Jun Lianqi, who hand-stitched dolls and little outfits like a daydreaming elder sister waiting for a child or a sister that might never come.
Mu Lanyi, whose fierce sword would pause only to craft the softest steamed buns or fragrant frozen pastries.
The Feng Twins, mischievous and strange, whose treasured "Jade Dust Spirits" looked like divine beasts… but Yun Che once described them, bluntly, as "chinchilla-looking rodents with wigs."
She had kept every secret to herself—held them close in her heart like tiny crystals of snow.
Because those hidden hobbies weren't just quirks… they were pieces of a life denied. The quiet rebellion of immortal maidens who craved something simple, something human.
And now, seeing Chu Yueli step forward to paint with serene confidence, Cang Yue smiled again—this time with the pride of someone who knew the truth.
Chu Yueli stood silently in the center of the stage, her veiled hat casting a gentle shadow over her face. The hall buzzed with confusion—wasn't she the graceful and cold Second Fairy of Frozen Cloud Asgard? Why would she be the one to step forward?
Her fingers, pale and slender, gently traced the edge of the ink brush laid out before her.
She looked around, not at the crowd or the nobles smirking in doubt, but at her companions—at Qingyue, who nodded at her calmly… and at Yun Che, who simply watched in curiosity.
Why am I even doing this…?
Chu Yueli stepped gracefully onto the stage, her every movement fluid and composed. Beneath her veiled kasa hat, her face remained unseen—mysterious and poised. Yet within her, a flicker of uncertainty stirred. She, a veteran cultivator and fairy of renown, was facing a young girl several years her junior in something so delicate and personal.
Across from her stood Yang Ying'er—youthful, radiant, and unshaken. Her expression held not arrogance, but quiet determination. This was not a challenge born of pride, but of purpose.
The Yang Family had prepared the tools: a fine canvas, bamboo brushes, and small ceramic bottles of pigment—azure, vermillion, ink black, and cloud white.
With practiced etiquette, Ying'er stepped forward and offered a respectful bow.
"This one is Yang Ying'er. May I know the name of my honored opponent?"
Chu Yueli hesitated only a breath, then returned the gesture with a quiet nod.
"I am… Li Yue. A simple replacement, nothing more. Lending my hand to assist the Jin Family." Her voice was soft, carrying the graceful weight of snow, but behind it lay something deeper.
A name she used in the Tomb Selection. The name reminded her of him.
Ying'er blinked, then tilted her head slightly. "May I ask… why would a replacement go so far for a family not your own?"
A small smile crept onto Yueli's lips, unseen beneath her veil. She closed her eyes briefly, and the echo of a certain someone's voice came to mind.
"I'm just killing some time," she replied with a soft exhale, her words laden with meaning Ying'er couldn't quite grasp—but nodded all the same.
"Lady Li Yue, let's give it our all," Ying'er said warmly. "Win or lose, I don't mind. I only hope to witness the strength of an artist… in the way I best understand."
Yueli's expression softened. "Likewise."
From his seat, Old Man Lin raised his hand. "Then let the painting challenge… begin!"
A hush fell over the hall as the two women took up their brushes. In this moment, it wasn't status or power that mattered—but the silent duel of art, heart, and unspoken truths between brush and canvas.
Little Fairy watched her younger sister on the stage, brush in hand and completely immersed in her art. Beneath her composed expression, a strange mixture of emotions stirred within her heart: surprise, pride… and a faint tinge of embarrassment.
She sighed softly, her gaze unwavering.
"To think… she hid something like this from me for years. All because she didn't want me to be upset. I only wanted her to focus—to be the best. I thought painting was a distraction…"
Yun Che's voice came gently through their mental link, a quiet smile in his tone.
"Back then, your heart was encased in ice. But now? You're different. The Crystal Dream Heart has softened you, hasn't it? She's not painting anything 'wrong,' is she?"
Little Fairy shook her head. "I don't know. I've never seen her paintings. But… I'm proud of her. Truly."
"Then support her. Hobbies aren't weaknesses. They're what make a person complete. If she loves painting, be there for her—encourage it."
There was a long pause. "…I wouldn't even know where to begin. I know nothing about painting."
Yun Che chuckled. "Do you have any hobbies at all? I mean, you do spend all your time cultivating. It's kind of intense."
"I've always believed getting stronger was everything. I wanted to be strong… to protect Yueli."
"Well, that's noble. But still… hobbies matter too. Take Qingyue, for example—she's read thousands of books, which is kind of insane. Retsu loves cooking. Mio enjoys long walks through nature. Nemu's obsessed with invention and machinery. Cang Yue likes uncovering forgotten places. Even Xue Ling has a sewing obsession, and Lin Yueru prefers archery over embroidery."
Little Fairy blinked slowly. "…So I'm the only one without a hobby."
Yun Che smirked mentally. "Seems that way."
She frowned slightly, thoughtful. "Maybe I do have one… if a hobby is something I've always done, something that brings me a sense of calm."
Chu Yueli dipped her brush gently into the ink, her hand steady, but her heart fluttering.
As the hall watched in hushed anticipation, her thoughts drifted—not to the crowd, nor the competition—but to the quiet moments of her past.
She remembered the first time she ever held a brush. How clumsy her hands had been. The countless ruined scrolls. Crooked lines. Smeared colors. Messy doodles she would quickly hide beneath her floorboards the moment her sister stepped into the room.
Back then, her sister—Chu Yuechan—was consumed by cultivation, wholly focused on power, discipline, and becoming the strongest. In that frozen fortress of a world, Yueli had feared her hobby would be seen as weakness. She never dared to show Little Fairy her paintings, let alone ask for her opinion.
But that changed.
In recent days, her sister's heart had thawed, softened by bonds forged in fire and companionship. Yet despite that, Yueli never found the right moment. No quiet evening. No gentle request. No word spoken aloud.
Instead… she revealed it here. Before a city. Before strangers. Before rivals and allies.
And before her sister, seated silently among them.
With every brushstroke, emotion poured forth. Memories and longings, things she could never put into words. Her loneliness. Her admiration. Her quiet wish to be noticed. Every swirl of ink and hue of color became the unspoken voice of her soul.
Her art was not technique—it was her truth.
As the ten long incense sticks slowly burned away, both she and her opponent, Yang Ying'er, placed down their brushes at the same time.
Their paintings were complete.
Yang Ying'er was the first to present hers—a breathtaking depiction of the heavens. Sweeping skies dyed in gentle hues of twilight. Spiraling stars and drifting clouds surrounding a golden palace atop celestial peaks. It was grand and divine, echoing the pride of the Yang Family—high, noble, unshaken.
Applause followed. A worthy painting. One befitting her station.
Then, the hall turned to Chu Yueli.
Silent. Expectant.
She gently lifted her canvas. And the moment it stood, the entire hall was stunned into silence.
Chu Yueli lifted her painting with both hands. What emerged wasn't just a painting—it was a confession of her heart.
Two phoenixes danced across the canvas, their feathers brushed in elegant reds and golds that shimmered like fire under moonlight. Twirling through clouds, they soared as one—neither leading nor following. Their wings mirrored each other's flight, their eyes fixed not on the heavens but on each other.
They were unseparated. Undivided. Eternal.
A single flock of two souls bound not by blood, but by something deeper.
Love. Loyalty. Destiny.
The silence in the hall deepened.
Even the harshest critics forgot to breathe.
"It's… phoenixes," someone whispered.
"No… not just phoenixes," murmured Old Man Lin. "It's a feeling. A story."
Little Fairy's eyes softened as she gazed upon the painting, her breath catching in her throat. Within each delicate brushstroke, she recognized something more than artistry—she saw emotion. Long-suppressed feelings her sister had buried deep within her heart. Emotions that had remained hidden even from her.
And now… they were laid bare on canvas.
Her chest tightened as she brought a hand to her heart, uncertain whether the warmth she felt was pride, or something closer to regret.
The painting wasn't just of phoenixes. It was a reflection—a confession.
She saw it now.
One phoenix soaring high, proud and alone. The other, watching from below, wings folded, never daring to rise beside her. That had been their story.
For years, she had stood at the peak—strong, untouchable, obsessed with power.
Yueli had remained in her shadow, quiet, obedient… and yearning.
But now, the phoenixes flew together, side by side across the heavens. Free. Powerful. Equals.
Her little sister didn't want to surpass her—she only wanted to soar with her.
Cang Yue, standing nearby, closed her eyes and smiled knowingly. She had once stumbled across a collection of hidden paintings in Chu Yueli's room—tucked beneath scrolls, wrapped in veils, protected like treasured secrets. Scribbles, doodles… and some quietly breathtaking masterpieces. Yueli had begged her to keep them secret. And she had.
But now… Yueli was no longer hiding.
This painting wasn't just another work—it was a reflection of her heart. The culmination of everything she had felt, feared, and dreamed.
Her finest masterpiece.
Yun Che stood in silence, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the twin phoenixes dancing across the canvas.
For a woman who rarely spoke her mind, Chu Yueli had just shouted her soul through a single painting.
And it echoed in every corner of the hall.
He turned to glance at Little Fairy and saw the war raging behind her usually unreadable eyes. Regret and pride. Loneliness and love. All of it, flickering quietly across her expression.
So that's what you've been carrying, Yueli, she thought.
Chu Yueli stood silently at the center, her face hidden, her posture reserved. Yet everything she had ever wanted to say had already been spoken.
Not with words.
But with every brushstroke.
The hall remained hushed as the judges finished deliberating—but they didn't need to.
Even the young Yang Ying'er, despite standing on the opposite side, lowered her gaze and offered a graceful bow—not in defeat, but in quiet respect. She said nothing, for no words were needed. The reverence in her eyes said everything.
Her own painting, a heartfelt depiction of the heavens as she saw them, had been her best effort. It was beautiful in its own right—thoughtful, serene, skillfully rendered. But next to Chu Yueli's masterpiece, it was clear even to her that she had not touched the same depth.
Where her canvas spoke of the skies above, Chu Yueli's painting soared through them.
A pair of phoenixes, entwined in flight—not only elegant, but powerful in meaning. It wasn't just a painting; it was a memory, a confession, and a vow all at once.
Yang Ying'er offered a small, knowing smile as she stepped back. She had not lost to arrogance or cruelty, but to sincerity born from the soul. And in her heart, that was a loss she could accept.
The hall was silent as Old Man Lin slowly stepped forward. He didn't even look at the paintings at first—he simply stared at Chu Yueli, as if seeing her truly for the first time.
At the head of the hall, Grandmaster Ming stood still, his brows furrowed in contemplation. Moments ago, he had been prepared to make a generous offer to purchase Xia Qingyue's poetic scroll, awed by its rare characters and literary depth. But now, his eyes lingered on the phoenixes rendered in sweeping, emotion-laced strokes.
He finally spoke, voice low but carrying weight.
"…Such a painting," he murmured, "I have seen none like it in all my years. Its artistic value aside… the composition, the balance, the spirit—it speaks to the soul."
He turned to Old Man Lin, who was still spellbound. "Lin, did you feel it too? When I looked at that painting, for a moment… I felt a sensation akin to stepping into a realm of stillness. Of balance. As if… my cultivation stirred."
Old Man Lin's eyes widened. "You too? I thought it was just me… That clarity. That weight in the air."
A subtle tremor rippled through the audience.
Grandmaster Ming finally stepped forward, voice reverent.
"The winner of this challenge… is the Jin Family."
Applause didn't follow immediately—not because the crowd refused to accept the result, but because none dared break the sacred silence lingering in the air. It wasn't just victory. It was transcendence.
Yang Ying'er stepped forward and gave a respectful bow to Chu Yueli.
"That was beautiful," she said softly. "Thank you… for letting me see it."
Chu Yueli nodded, her voice calm. "Thank you… for letting me share it."
Back at the table, Jin Zhuo found his hands trembling slightly. His wife's grip tightened around his arm as they shared a glance.
Three victories. Not just debt reclaimed—but dignity restored.
And as Yun Che looked around at the other noble families, he noticed it. The cracks forming in their arrogance. Their calculating eyes darting now not with disdain—but with hesitation.
They're afraid, Yun Che thought.
He smirked.
Good.
Because the games weren't over yet.
Jin Zhuo stepped forward, his expression softened with warmth and pride. Standing before Yang Ying'er, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"It seems you've grown well, Ying'er," he said with a nostalgic smile. "I still remember when you used to sneak peaches from our garden with my Lan'er."
Yang Ying'er gave a small laugh, then bowed deeply, her voice sincere. "I thought I was already giving my best. But when I saw the twin phoenixes… it was as if I finally understood something I hadn't known I was missing. That painting spoke to me. The bond it carried—the longing of the phoenix to soar alongside its partner—it stirred something deep within me. My depiction of the heavens pales in comparison. It was only a picture. But hers… hers meant something."
Chu Yueli remained silent beside them, her hands folded quietly, though the faintest smile curved at her lips.
"Painting," she said gently, "is a reflection of the heart. It's not about precision or beauty alone—it's about what you pour into it. Emotions, memories, dreams. Without that, even the finest painting is just color on paper."
Yang Ying'er bowed again. "I will remember that. There's so much more I need to learn before I can create something that truly speaks."
Jin Zhuo nodded solemnly. "Ying'er… relay this to your father: according to the agreement, your family's debt is now void. By the rules, you should owe us double—but there's no need."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Uncle Zhuo…"
"Your family is the only one that still showed kindness to us, even after our fall. For that, we are thankful. Let this be our gesture of gratitude."
Moved, Yang Ying'er's voice trembled slightly. "Thank you, Uncle. Truly."
The Yang Family members that came with her breath a sigh of relief. Even her brother pulls a deep breath.
Chu Yueli then stepped forward, holding out her painting. "As a gift… take this."
Yang Ying'er gasped. "Lady Li Yue… truly? I may have it?"
"I hope it inspires you," Chu Yueli said softly. "May you one day paint a masterpiece that shares your vision of the heavens."
Yang Ying'er clutched the painting gently, as though it were made of snow and memory. "Then… may I come to you for guidance, Lady Li Yue? I wish to understand this path."
Chu Yueli nodded, her smile gentle. "I'll be here for as long as the Jin Family needs me. You're welcome anytime."
Yang Ying'er beamed. "Then I will come. Thank you!"
Yun Che stood with his arms crossed, the faint echo of applause still lingering in the air. Watching the noble families reel from their third unexpected loss, he chuckled softly. "Well… turns out painting can be a battlefield too."
His gaze drifted toward Qingyue, whose veil fluttered ever so slightly in the breeze. "I guess your master can share something more than just icy swordplay after all."
Qingyue turned to him with a serene smile beneath her veil. "I don't mind. She's already passed down everything she knew. It's time I expand my knowledge… with my new master."
He blinked. "Master? Who?"
"You," she said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Uhh… no, no, let's not do this." Yun Che raised both hands. "Just stop calling me master. You're not my maid or anything."
Qingyue tilted her head slightly, her amusement barely hidden. "Since when does calling you 'master' make me a maid? You have quite the imagination."
He sighed and rubbed his temples. "Look, I'm just saying… where I grew up, in the Dead Spirit Realm, the term master usually means something a bit more… subservient."
Then, without skipping a beat, he spoke through his mental link to Jasmine, buried deep within the System's inner world. "Hear that, Jasmine? I'm not your butler."
From the steamy mists of the spiritual hot spring, Jasmine's voice rang back, soaked in disdain.
"Hmph! You'll always be my errand boy whether you admit it or not. Now be quiet—I'm busy soaking."
Yun Che winced. "Yeah, okay, definitely not a maid… but maybe a glorified delivery boy…"
"Your world is really odd." Qingyue mused.
"I know."
Even the clinking of teacups and the low murmurs of nobles had ceased—every gaze now rested on the twin phoenix painting still cradled in Yang Ying'er's hands, as if it were a divine treasure.
Grandmaster Ming narrowed his eyes, then turned to Chu Yueli. "Tell me, Fairy Li Yue… were you aware your painting could invoke such feelings?"
Chu Yueli gave a small bow, her expression calm. "I only painted what I felt. If the painting stirred something in your hearts, then perhaps… my feelings were understood."
Grandmaster Ming placed a hand behind his back and gazed at the ceiling for a moment. "Insight through emotion… comprehension through art. I had always believed the paths of cultivation and artistry were parallel, never crossing. But perhaps… there is something more. Something we've missed."
Gasps sounded from the hall.
One of the younger scholars whispered, "Could… could paintings truly become mediums for martial enlightenment?"
Another replied, "If emotions and understanding can stir the heart and expand the mind, then… perhaps yes."
Yang Ying'er clutched the painting tighter. It wasn't just a gift—it was now a seed of inspiration that might bloom into something greater.
Yun Che smirked to himself. A painting stirring the minds of even high-level cultivators? His gaze lingered briefly on Chu Yueli. She might just be more dangerous with a brush than with a sword.
And so, what had begun as a debt-driven contest was now rippling through the ranks of nobles and scholars alike—challenging their very understanding of the link between spirit, strength, and soul.
"Incredible," Cang Yue whispered, her voice trembling as she gently dabbed the tears at the corner of her eyes. Her gaze lingered on the twin phoenixes—soaring together, their wings entwined in eternal flight.
"Ara~~~" Retsu hummed, her tone soft and motherly. "She poured her whole heart into that painting. You can feel the longing in every brushstroke."
"I never knew her emotions ran this deep," Nemu added, her analytical tone unusually subdued. "It's rare to find emotional output so vividly translated into art."
Mio sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Mio… Mio doesn't even know why she's crying. That painting—it feels like a goodbye… but also a promise."
Xue Ling, Lin Yueru, and Jin Mulan glanced at each other, confusion painting their faces.
"What are they talking about?" Xue Ling murmured.
"I feel something… but I don't understand it," Yueru admitted.
"It's just two phoenixes," Mulan muttered, crossing her arms, but her brows furrowed as if the painting whispered to her in a language her heart recognized but her mind couldn't yet grasp.
Amid them, Xia Qingyue remained still—her eyes glowing faintly behind the veil. The Heart of Snow Glazed Glass pulsed softly within her chest, its ancient power quietly stirring.
As she gazed at the painting, she suddenly felt the painting unravel itself—not through sight, but through comprehension. Like a riddle with no words, a song with no sound… the emotion in the strokes resonated with her deepest self.
It wasn't just about art. It was about longing. Loneliness. Unspoken love and hidden hope.
The phoenixes weren't just birds. They were sisters. They were dreams. They were Chu Yueli's silent wish… to no longer be left behind.
Qingyue's lips parted slightly. So that's what you felt all this time… Master…
She lowered her head, the weight of the truth blooming inside her.
Even she, who had read ten thousand books, had never understood her master—not until now.
"Impressive," Yun Che muttered, arms folded as his gaze remained fixed on the twin phoenixes dancing across the canvas. Although, the phoenixes might hint a different meaning to him.
"Hnn?" Little Fairy tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing at him.
"Yueli," he clarified with a faint smile. "She can make anyone feel what she feels… just through her painting."
"You understood it?" she asked, voice softer now.
"Yeah," he nodded, eyes distant as if still walking through the world the painting had created. "If you look closely—not with your eyes, but your heart—you can almost see her life story unfolding through the brushstrokes. Most would just call it pretty and move on. But Yueli's painting… speaks. You feel her longing, her admiration, her quiet sorrow, her hope."
He exhaled. "That Heart of the Crystal Dream… it's more surprising than I thought."
"What does the heart have to do with this?" she asked, curious now.
"Without genuine emotion, a painting is just color on canvas," Yun Che explained, his voice taking on a deeper tone. "Intent, feeling, soul—these are what give art its meaning. Yueli's love for painting—her quiet dedication—was amplified by the Heart of the Crystal Dream. That heart doesn't just reflect emotions—it projects them, wraps them around every brushstroke. It's not just beautiful, it's felt."
He looked at Little Fairy meaningfully. "Her painting becomes a message—but one only those who understand her can fully grasp. To the ignorant, it's just elegant art. But to someone who's seen her, known her, fought alongside her… that painting speaks volumes. It's her heart made manifest."
Little Fairy remained quiet, her gaze falling back on her sister's painting.
"And if she's using that Heart to convey her soul through art… then there's no telling how far it can evolve," Yun Che added. "Paintings that could teach, heal, guide—messages embedded within each stroke. If one day she chooses to become a master to others aside from Qingyue… imagine her disciples understanding her lessons without her speaking a word."
He looked off into the distance, half-amused, half-thoughtful. "Honestly… even I don't fully understand what the Heart of the Crystal Dream is capable of. But I know this much—it's far more than just a tool for cultivation."
Little Fairy's lips parted slightly, her heart conflicted. Once, she'd thought strength alone was the measure of worth. But now… she was beginning to see the world through her sister's eyes—and feel its beauty for the first time.
"You gained that much insight… from a single painting?" Little Fairy whispered, still unable to pull her eyes from the twin phoenixes.
Yun Che gave a wry smile. "To those who have cultivated Haki… intent is more than just a feeling—it's a language. Retsu, Nemu, Mio, and the others—when they looked at that painting, they didn't just see it. They read it. Every stroke, every curve, carries a message. The people in the hall see a scene—we see a story."
Little Fairy's breath caught. That would explain why Retsu shed tears, why Mio whimpered in quiet emotion, and why Cang Yue looked as if she had just read a tragic poem. It wasn't just beauty. It was truth.
Her mind raced. Since when had Yueli been able to manifest her understanding into paintings so clearly? And then, a deeper memory surfaced.
The disciples of Frozen Cloud Asgard…
Those who once struggled to grasp even the first realm of the Frozen Cloud Arts…
Suddenly, they could.
After visiting the Gallery of Ice.
She remembered the rumors.
There, in the gallery, stood a single painting—a frozen lake, mid-blizzard, where the snow curled like dancing petals and the wind whispered silently. No one knew who painted it. Yueli had claimed it came from the Tomb of the Moon Empress—a mysterious treasure left behind by a legend.
But now…
What if it wasn't from the tomb?
What if Yueli… painted it herself?
Even Gong Yuxian herself had once said, "That painting speaks of a divine understanding… as if the realm of ice itself breathed through it." It was unlike anything the sect had seen. It became the sect's treasure.
And now, Little Fairy was sure.
She turned slowly to look at her sister, who stood quietly, brushing a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear beneath the shadow of her kasa hat.
It wasn't luck. It wasn't a treasure found in ruins.
Yueli had reached a realm in painting… that could transmit understanding.
"Yueli…" she murmured, awed. You've always walked quietly in my shadow… and now, you've found a light of your own.
If Yueli could condense her profound understanding into strokes of ink and spirit, then…
She could teach without words.
She could bypass the barriers of talent, and offer insight to even the weakest disciples.
She could raise an entire generation of Frozen Cloud Asgard through a single painting.
A soft breath left Little Fairy's lips. A sense of pride—tinged with guilt—rose in her chest.
"All this time… I never saw what you were truly becoming."
She clenched her hand over her heart, where the Crystal Dream Heart pulsed faintly in resonance with her own. Yueli had chosen her path—and found a strength that could reach the hearts of many.
And if her sister could fly that high with her art…
Then maybe she, too, could learn to soar with something more than just her sword.
She opened her eyes—eyes glowing faintly with the power of her Haki—and gazed at the painting once more. The twin phoenixes soared together, forever bound in the skies above. A single heartbeat passed... then another…
A tear fell.
Then another.
Her lips trembled as she whispered, barely audible, "Li'er… all this time? Why… why didn't you tell me?"
From the side, Yun Che's expression softened. "Little Fairy…"
She clenched her fist, trembling. "She… all this time… she's been trying to reach me."
"I know," he said gently, watching the truth settle in her heart. "I read it too. Her message—it finally reached you."
As the hall buzzed with quiet reverence, Chu Yueli descended from the stage, brushing her hands free of ink and stepping with quiet grace toward the Jin Family table. She didn't expect anything, just the quiet satisfaction of expressing her truth—finally, after all this time.
But before she could speak, arms wrapped around her tightly.
"Eh?" Yueli's breath caught. "Nee-san?"
Little Fairy embraced her, her face buried in her sister's shoulder. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."
Yueli froze. She hadn't heard those words from her sister before—not like this.
"I understand now," Little Fairy whispered, voice shaking. "Those phoenixes… they were never just symbols."
Yueli's eyes widened. "You… understood it?"
"More than that." Little Fairy pulled back just enough to meet her sister's eyes. "You've always watched me fly from below. I never looked back. I only wanted to be strong… but I never noticed that you wanted to fly with me."
Tears shimmered in both their eyes now.
"I promise, Li'er," Little Fairy continued, her voice firm and steady. "I won't fly alone anymore. Wherever I go… I'll make sure you're right there beside me."
Yueli bit her lip, then smiled—a soft, radiant smile that melted the years of silence between them. "Then I'll paint us new skies to fly through. Together."
Two hearts, finally soaring in the same sky.
The atmosphere in the hall had shifted.
With every challenge lost, the noble families' pride chipped away like weathered stone. Arithmetic, reading, painting—each one a crushing defeat at the hands of the Jin Family's mysterious, veiled prodigies.
The Gu and Fang Families sat in silence, forced to swallow their humiliation. The once confident whispers and smirks had turned into mutters of disbelief and clenched jaws. Only moments ago, the Jin Family was a fractured house buried in debt. Now, they stood tall with three commanding victories.
Three wins.
Gu. Fang. Yang.
Gone.
The Jin Family had turned the banquet into a battleground… and emerged stronger with each passing round.
Then, the lots shifted again—and this time, fate called upon the Ren Family.
All eyes turned.
The second son, Ren Fen, known more for his arrogance than skill, stepped forward. Yet his smirk didn't carry the confidence of a sure victor—it was the desperate grin of a cornered wolf betting everything on a single strike.
Yun Che's eyes narrowed slightly. He could already guess that this one had something planned.
From his raised seat, Jin Zhuo stood tall. His voice rang out with newfound authority, emboldened by the streak of victories. "Ren Family! State your challenge!"
The room held its breath.
Ren Fen stepped into the center with a flourish of his icy-blue robes. "The Ren Family," he declared with exaggerated pride, "challenges the Jin Family in the art of Ice Sculpting."
A pause followed—then murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Finally, a domain they can't cheat through."
"Let's see them conjure a miracle with this one."
Even some of the other families began to lean in, hope igniting in their eyes. The Ren Family were known cultivators of cold arts, albeit different in style than the Frozen Cloud Art of the Frozen Cloud Asgard. They long to meet the powerful and proud fairies whose Ice Art superior to them. Ice sculpting wasn't just a craft to them—it was an art, a form of discipline, and a prideful heritage passed down through generations.
Yun Che chuckled under his breath, folding his arms. "Now they're pulling out family specialties, huh?"
Jin Zhuo's confident look wavered slightly. He turned to Mulan and the others—none of them trained in sculpting.
Mulan frowned. Qingyue sighs as if she couldn't help with this since she already had her turn like Chu Yueli.
Then, one calm voice rose:
"I'll do it."
All heads turned.
From behind the veil of icy silk, Little Fairy stepped forward.
Yun Che blinked. "Wait, you?"
She didn't glance back.
Little Fairy tilted her head slightly, her expression hidden beneath the elegant curve of her veil. A small, serene smile curled on her lips.
"Like you said, I needed a hobby," she murmured, almost teasingly, her voice a glimmer of frost in the air. "Maybe this will be my calling."
A hush fell over the hall as members of the Ren Family brought forward two massive blocks of enchanted ice, each glowing faintly with spiritual energy—thick, pristine, and imbued with a profound cold that would not melt under normal flame. They shimmered under the lantern light like sacred gemstones.
Ren Fen stepped forward confidently, tossing his furred cloak behind him. "These aren't ordinary ice," he declared. "They're Soul-Frozen Crystals. This sculpture will be the proof of my clan's supremacy in the frost arts."
He turned to face Little Fairy, arrogance thick in his tone.
"Fairy, the Ren Family has excelled in Ice Sculpting for generations. I advise you to give up now, lest you tarnish the Jin Family's brief streak of luck."
Little Fairy didn't respond.
She didn't flinch.
She didn't rise to his bait.
Instead, she closed her eyes—and breathed.
The hall grew colder.
Frost began to lace the edges of her robes. The air shifted around her in silence. The pressure of her stillness felt heavier than a mountain.
Even Ren Fen, with all his bluster, faltered slightly.
"Fairy…" he hesitated, attempting to regain control, "we will each sculpt an ice form using our own methods. Let the hall judge."
She opened her eyes.
"Very well."
Once the Ren Family completed the final preparations, Old Man Lin raised his hand and solemnly declared:
"Begin."
Ren Fen didn't hesitate.
With a swift motion, he unsheathed his sword, and an icy aura burst forth from his blade. The cold air whistled as he danced around the block of enchanted ice. Every slice, every flick of the wrist was calculated and practiced—a ritual refined through years of ancestral tradition.
The room watched with bated breath as both stepped toward their ice.
Ren Fen moved with practiced elegance, summoning fine-tuned blades of qi and carving with graceful motions. He wasn't just cultivating ice—he was shaping it with years of discipline. A dragon's silhouette began to form, winding around a mountain peak.
It was impressive—no one denied that.
Clang. Slice. Carve.
Ice chips flew like snowflakes caught in a storm.
In under fifteen minutes, he stepped back, sweat lining his brow despite the freezing temperature. His sculpture stood tall—a masterful figure of a swordsman frozen mid-draw, one hand on the hilt, the other flaring his robe back in preparation for a devastating strike. The level of detail was precise—the folds in the clothes, the fierce intensity of the swordsman's gaze, even the motion of air around the blade seemed captured in stillness.
The hall murmured in admiration.
"As expected of the Ren Family…"
"That sculpture's alive with battle spirit…"
"He might actually win this one…"
But on the other side of the stage…
Little Fairy hadn't moved.
Not once.
She stood like a statue before her block of enchanted ice, her arms crossed quietly.
Old Man Lin turned to her. "Fairy, will you begin?"
She raised her head slightly, eyes half-lidded beneath the veil. "I already did."
A gentle breeze stirred.
A pale mist rolled across the floor.
Then—the ice began to glow.
A soft pulse, as if the sculpture were taking its first breath.
Without laying a single finger on it, the block of ice shifted, transforming under the will of her icy energy. It wasn't sculpted by blade—but shaped by intent, molded by the purity of her profound ice.
The mist cleared.
What emerged was beyond anyone's imagination
Ren Fen took an unconscious step backward.
The moment the ice particles danced into place, it was no longer just a sculpture. It was a phoenix—a majestic creature of legend, reborn from ice instead of flame. Its wings curled outward, mid-flap, as though it might soar into the skies at any moment. Its head tilted downward, proud yet serene, gazing not at the audience, but at something far beyond their understanding.
Tiny, shimmering snowflakes circled around it—a natural phenomenon, drawn by the overwhelming purity of Little Fairy's profound ice. The sculpture didn't simply exist; it breathed, it radiated, and it reigned.
Ren Fen's sword slipped from his fingers with a dull clink on the floor.
His lips parted in disbelief.
The Ren Family elders, once confident and smirking from the sidelines, were silent. Completely and utterly silent.
Mio clasped her hands with sparkling eyes. "Sugoi… I never knew Sister Yuechan could sculpt! She made that phoenix look alive…"
Cang Yue smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear under her veil. "Well, sister Yuechan did master Haki. Yun Che did say any Haki manifestation felt alive when mastered."
Qingyue stood quietly, staring at the now-melting traces of frost left behind by Little Fairy's sculpture. Her voice, calm and thoughtful, slipped out under her breath.
"Using ice to create works of art… how? The Frozen Cloud Arts are about destruction, protection, defense… how did she use it to create beauty? To breathe life into cold frost?"
Retsu, who was delicately sipping tea, chuckled softly with her usual serene tone.
"Ufuu… Ice can create wonders, Qingyue. You control it, mold it, and yes, even express your heart through it. Sculpture is the most basic form of waterbending—turning imagination into form." Her eyes twinkled with warmth. "Don't let a technique define your limits. The Frozen Cloud Arts are beautiful, but they are not the end. It is a tone down version of your Frozen End Arts, am I right?"
She added playfully, "Besides, having Haki helps."
"Haki…" Qingyue murmured the unfamiliar word like a sacred mantra, her brows furrowed in thought.
Mio leaned closer, nodding enthusiastically. "Mhm! It's like… feeling the world with your soul. Retsu taught me a little. When you see through intent, you can use it to help shape your techniques. Creating a variety of techniques."
Retsu turned her head, smiling. "Mio's right. Haki is the one who shapes your manifestation. Back then, I can turn your icicles into swords and hurl them back to you. That's the beauty of Haki, Qingyue."
Qingyue clenched her fists slightly. Her eyes flicked toward the fading sculpture, then to Little Fairy's composed form.
"Then I'll learn it," she whispered. "This 'Haki'... Waterbending and manifestation…. How much more out there that needs to be learned?"
Yun Che, not far off, glanced sideways and muttered, "Well, her determination kicked off, I bet she'll come tonight and pester me for early lessons now that she envied Xue Ling, Mulan and Yueru had an early start."
Old Man Lin, voice slow and reverent, approached the sculpture. "This isn't just a phoenix. It carries intent. Feelings. It… it wants to fly. No, it wants to soar above the heavens, unburdened and free."
Jin Zhuo clenched his fists, overwhelmed with pride. Four victories. Four overwhelming displays of unmatched talent. He turned to Yun Che, but the youth only gave a smug little shrug.
Little Fairy said nothing.
Ren Fen trembled slightly as the icy presence of the phoenix still lingered in the air like a solemn echo. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He wasn't just defeated—he was shattered.
The audience, once lively with whispers, now stared at the retreating figure of the veiled woman. Her silhouette graceful, her aura dignified. She did not bask in her victory—she simply returned to her seat, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.
Then came the outburst.
"You… Who are you?!" Ren Fen suddenly stood up, his voice cracking. "The Ren Family is the only lineage of frost cultivators in this entire city! How… how can you possess such mastery over ice?!"
The woman paused mid-step. She turned her head just slightly, her veil still obscuring her features. Her voice was soft, yet it carried throughout the hall with undeniable poise.
"Then I am from outside the city," she said calmly. "As for who I am…"
She let the silence build for a beat.
"…I am not required to tell you."
With that, she walked away. Not with arrogance—but with quiet confidence that needed no explanation.
The Ren Family fell into stunned silence. The Jin Family had just claimed four victories—and each challenger had not only lost but been overwhelmed.
Jin Zhuo couldn't hide the pride that welled up in his chest. His voice rang out like thunder.
"Four challenges. Four victories. Jin Family prevails again!"
The pressure in the hall shifted like a landslide. The remaining families, once eager to mock, now sat rigid with fear. Each began rethinking their own strategies, questioning their next moves.
Because the question now wasn't just how to beat the Jin Family.
It was:
"Who else have they brought with them?"
As the hall echoed with quiet awe and whispers, murmurs began to ripple among the remaining families.
"Four wins… Are we next?"
"They're monsters…"
"How many more of them are hiding talents like this?"
"Ohoo… I never knew you had a knack for sculpting," Yun Che teased through their mind link, a half-smirk forming on his lips as he watched the last of the icy phoenix glimmer under the hall lights.
Little Fairy's reply came with a soft, almost uncharacteristically warm smile.
"I wanted a hobby too. Like you said—cultivation alone isn't everything. Sometimes, even someone like me needs something to pass the time. I always wondered… if I could turn ice into something more. Something beautiful."
Yun Che let out a quiet sigh, his tone more playful than weary. "You really made it look easy. Guess you have found your hobby now, huh?"
She nodded gently. "It's easy… if you understand the ice. And with Haki, I can feel it. Shape it. Sculpting like this sharpens more than technique—it hones my lack of imagination like you said back then."
Her voice carried a quiet sense of peace—something Yun Che rarely heard from her before.
Ren Fen stormed forward, hand outstretched, intending to seize Little Fairy by the arm.
Crack!
A sudden wave of frost surged outward before he could lay a finger on her. His palm was encased in a thin sheen of ice, forcing him to stumble back, eyes wide.
No woman had ever resisted his advances—until now.
She didn't even look back. Her voice was cold as the winter wind.
"Do we have a problem, or are you simply struggling to accept your loss?"
Ren Fen gritted his teeth. "Y-You… Who are you?! Our Ren Family is the only lineage in this city with ice cultivation. No one else should be able to control ice like this!"
"I told you." Her tone sharpened, slicing through the tension like a shard of ice. "I am not of this city. Now, leave me be."
Before he could retort, his father clamped a hand tightly on his shoulder, eyes filled with unease. "Enough, Fen."
"But father! That woman… her control over frost! Isn't our art supposed to be unique?!"
The elder Ren's gaze lingered on the figure of Little Fairy, who was now walking calmly back to her seat.
"…There is a sect far beyond these lands. A place hidden in snow and silence. A palace of fairies—each one as beautiful as they are terrifying. Their mastery over ice makes ours look like a child's play."
Ren Fen's eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean… the Frozen Cloud Asgard? It's real?!"
The elder Ren nodded slowly, beads of sweat forming at his temples. "Real… and untouchable. One of their disciples could erase entire clans if angered. I've only heard whispers, but if she's truly from that place…" He gave his son a harsh look. "We dare not provoke her."
But Ren Fen's lips curled into something darker—greedy and possessive.
"Fairies as beautiful as flowers, huh?" He watched the retreating figure, the frost shimmering off her veil like stardust. "If I can make her mine… then the Ren Family will rule the frost arts. She could be my gateway to power… and prestige."
He laughed quietly to himself.
"A woman like that—she belongs to no one. But I'll make her mine."
The hall grew quiet as the Song Family's representative hesitated, visibly pale. An instant win for the Jin Family—again. First arithmetic, then reading, then painting and even sculpting… Was there any field in which they didn't excel?
Sweat beaded on the young man's brow. "T-This can't be…"
The Song Family Patriarch leaned down, voice firm. "Don't falter. We won the last two years with this challenge."
"But so did the others," the family elder muttered. "The Gu Family had confidence. The Fang Family too. The Ren Family believed they'd humiliate them. They all lost. What makes us any different?"
"You want to concede now?" the patriarch snapped. "You know what that means. We signed that cursed agreement. Forfeiting is no longer an option unless we're prepared to surrender the match outright—and double the debt."
"…Tch. No wonder that brat from the Jin Family is so confident. Who is he? Some kind of new Mu Che?"
The patriarch gritted his teeth, then stood, voice booming across the hall.
"The Song Family challenges the Jin Family—in the art of invention!"
A hush fell.
"Invention, huh?" Yun Che leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Yuu-sama," Nemu spoke up from behind her veil, raising her hand eagerly like a schoolgirl. "Allow me to take this one."
Yun Che chuckled. "Pfft… you were the first one I thought of."
"Hai! Leave it to me." Nemu's voice rang with excitement, her eyes sparkling behind the veil.
Cang Yue whispered to Mio, "They have no idea what kind of monster they just challenged."
Mio just grinned. "Poor Song Family. They're about to meet the queen of technology."
And so, the fifth match began—against the Jin Family's most enigmatic genius. And this time, it wasn't just about skill.
It was about creation.
As Nemu stepped onto the stage, a hush fell over the hall—not of doubt, but of anticipation.
She wasn't nervous. In fact, she was thrilled. For the first time since she'd been summoned to this world, Nemu would perform in front of a live crowd—not as a warrior, not as a strategist, but as a creator. This was her element. Invention. A field where gears and ideas meshed like the ticking of a perfect clock.
Her kasa veil shifted slightly, revealing a glint of excitement in her eyes as she bowed respectfully.
The Song Family had already laid out their tools and materials. Clearly, they had prepared in advance, confident in their own methods.
But Nemu? She brought her own.
With a flick of her sleeve, she opened her inventory—releasing an array of metals.
Gasps rang out across the room.
"She brought her own parts?"
"What are those things…?"
"I've never seen materials like that…"
She prepared these in advance since Jin Zhuo told them that one of the categories is invention. Something the Jin Family is lacking.
Even Old Man Lin blinked. He shows them the two wells inside the hall. "Ahem… Very well then. As the problem to solve—invent a mechanism to resolve the water scarcity crisis faced by a rural village. You may use the provided materials or your own."
The Song Family participant began his work. Nemu pulls out her materials and already began assembling.
After the time elapsed, the representative of the Song Family stepped forward proudly and unveiled their creation.
A turning pulley—simple in design, yet undeniably practical. Crafted with smooth joints and a reinforced crank, the device allowed a person to draw water from a well without relying on raw physical strength. The pulley system reduced the effort drastically, enabling even the elderly or children to retrieve water with ease.
Murmurs of approval echoed through the crowd.
"Oh! With this, it will be so much easier to draw water!"
"A genius solution! Even those without cultivation can use it."
"As expected from the Song Family… They've won the last two years with challenges like this!"
Old Man Lin nodded with a small smile. "This addresses the issue of labor strain effectively. A refined piece of village engineering."
The Song Patriarch straightened his robe proudly. "We aim for what the common folk truly need."
It was humble. Functional. Rooted in real-world needs.
All eyes turned to Nemu, who had remained silent throughout the Song Family's presentation.
In front of her was a curious, bell-shaped object—sleek, metallic, and seemingly simple. A downward-pointing tube curved from its base like a spout, and a slender handle arched over its domed top.
The hall blinked.
"What is… that?"
"A bell? No, it has a tube... is it a decoration?"
"Fairy, what is this device you're making?" Old Man Lin asked curiously.
Some began to snicker.
"Pffft—bleh, another useless contraption?"
"Looks like junk from the alchemist's scrap heap."
"Remember the disaster last year? That 'self-boiling soup pot' that exploded during the tasting?"
"This might be another amateur joke. She's overconfident."
Even the Song Family leaned back smugly. "The Jin Family finally met their end," the Song Patriarch whispered.
Nemu remained still, her face unreadable beneath her veil, but her voice carried through the hall with calm clarity:
"In this world, drawing water is a task often reserved for raw strength. One throws a pail into the well, hauls it back up with aching arms—and does so countless times a day. Many resort to cultivating just to gain enough strength to perform this simple chore. For women and children, this is backbreaking labor."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"True… even in my household, my daughter wakes early to fetch water."
"And the maids—always with red, cracked hands…"
Nemu continued, her gaze never wavering.
"In the Jin Family compound… I observed it myself. The servants. Their fingers rough and swollen. Their skin worn raw from rope burns and icy buckets. Even the smallest girls… forced to do what should be effortless. All while we live in a world of cultivation and progress."
Her voice softened, just barely. In her mind, outer districts and households still rely on outdated methods. She could not look at that and do nothing.
She stepped aside and gestured to the device she had created—a sleek, reverse-bell contraption with a downward tube and handle. Then she placed her hand on the top and pressed.
Ssshhkk. Clunk. Swish.
From the tube, a stream of clean water poured smoothly into the waiting container below.
"This is a hand pump," she said. "A tool that uses suction and mechanical leverage to draw water from the well through a tube or storage without requiring physical strain. No more injuries. No need to become a cultivator just to carry water."
Silence gripped the hall.
Even the most skeptical faces now bore awe. The nobles sat upright. Servants and handmaidens standing by the wall stared, some blinking with misted eyes.
Yun Che folded his arms and smiled. "Trust Nemu to turn a water-fetching tool into an instrument of quiet rebellion."
Old Man Lin could only whisper, "She… she built this for the sake of the weak…"
Then, without a word, Nemu rolled out a second piece of her invention.
It was simple—nothing more than a wooden wheelbarrow—but fitted with smooth bearings, a flat base, and custom grooves to hold the water bucket firmly in place. She calmly lifted the filled bucket—without spilling a drop—and set it inside. Then, with both hands on the handles, she began pushing it forward across the stage.
The wheelbarrow glided effortlessly.
"No more balancing pails on shoulders. No more shifting weight between hands. Just… push," she said plainly.
She turned the barrow around and pushed it back, then locked it in place with a lever beside one of the wheels—another small detail added without flair but with undeniable care.
A hush spread across the crowd, deeper than before.
At the head of the Jin table, Jin Zhuo's eyes widened as if a veil had been lifted. The water problem, the servants' fatigue… All of it had been solved in the span of a few breaths by a quiet girl with a soft voice and a sharper mind.
Beside him, Jin Yuelian smiled softly, eyes tinged with warmth.
"To think," she murmured, "someone would not only think of us… but also of the people who serve beneath our roof."
The Song Family's proud pulley contraption now looked primitive in comparison—effective, but crude. The hall knew it. So did the judges.
The Song Family representative couldn't believe his eyes.
Old Man Lin stepped forward, curiosity alight in his eyes.
"All I have to do is push this handle up and down?" he asked, guiding the lever as Nemu nodded.
With a tentative push, the pump's inner piston sealed and lifted water from the hidden reservoir below. A steady stream gurgled into the waiting bucket without a single bucket-in-well toss.
He tried it again, marvel growing in his expression. "It really draws water from the very bottom… without lowering a single pail!"
A low murmur swept the hall. The Song Family's sturdy pulley was clever—but this—this was effortless ingenuity.
"Does it require any profound energy?" Old Man Lin asked, voice hushed.
"Not at all," Nemu replied, stepping back. "A child could use it. A mechanism everyone—women, the elderly, even small children—can operate safely."
The Grand Headmaster Ming's cane tapped the floor twice as he straightened. "A truly people's invention," he declared, eyes shining. "Practical, compassionate, and brilliantly simple. A triumph of innovation."
Across the hall, Jin Zhuo and his wife exchanged a look of pure pride. In that single moment, they saw their family's future—and their people's prosperity—reflected in Nemu's work.
Jin Zhuo's eyes remained fixed on the hand pump, his mind racing with possibilities.
"She created something unbelievable…" he murmured, awestruck. "This thing really doesn't need any energy."
"Nope," Yun Che replied casually, arms folded, a half-smirk playing on his lips. "Anyone can use it."
Jin Zhuo turned toward him, voice low but serious. "Che'er, do you even realize how important this is? This could change lives—not just in our city, but across the entire province."
"I do," Yun Che said with quiet confidence. "And she's already agreed to hand the designs over to you for mass production. The Jin Family will hold the patent. If you want to win the hearts of the people, start by offering this to the rural villages—freely, even. They'll remember who gave it to them."
Jin Zhuo's breath caught. "Freely...?"
"Exactly," Yun Che said, nodding. "Anyone can try to copy this later, but only you will have the perfected version. Show them the Jin Family's strength isn't just power—it's compassion. That's how you earn loyalty that can't be bought."
Jin Zhuo leaned back slowly, the weight of realization settling in. "You really thought of everything, didn't you?"
"I am your son-in-law," Yun Che said with a grin. "Might as well go all the way."
Jin Zhuo couldn't help but chuckle, a rare moment of joy rising in his chest.
"With this, the Jin Family wins the fifth challenge!"
The proclamation echoed across the great hall, and a hush fell like a curtain. Murmurs buzzed—then exploded into stunned disbelief.
"Five… they won five…" one elder gasped, unable to process the numbers.
"What in the heavens is happening here?!" The Song Family patriarch slumped back into his seat, face pale. The invention challenge—their challenge—was supposed to be a guaranteed victory. Instead, they'd been humiliated before the entire city.
Jin Zhuo could no longer hide the grin stretching across his face—like a cunning chessmaster seeing his opponent fall into every trap. The weight that had clung to his shoulders for two agonizing years was finally being lifted.
The debts that once buried the Jin Family were now being swallowed by their enemies, tenfold. And they were only halfway through the challenges.
He leaned back, eyes narrowing in satisfaction.
Grandmaster Ming carefully examined the pump mechanism, his scholarly fingers tracing the handle and inlet. "Fairy… this device. Would you like to patent it?"
Nemu bowed politely. "Please patent it under the Jin Family. They will handle its distribution. Any attempts by others to replicate it without permission will be considered a violation."
The hall stirred with renewed whispers. Even before production began, the lines of power were shifting.
"Our academy would be honored to collaborate with the Jin Family," Grandmaster Ming declared, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "To help construct and distribute such a revolutionary device is our privilege."
Yun Che couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at his lips. There it is. The Academy was boarding the ship already.
This was no longer just about family prestige—it was about influence, and the Jin Family had just landed a monopoly on a device that could change daily life across the province. The other families, especially those who had sneered at them earlier, could only grit their teeth in bitter silence.
Jin Zhuo turned toward Yun Che, cautious but excited. "Che'er… What should I do now?"
"You've got the momentum," Yun Che said smoothly. "Strike a favorable deal with Grandmaster Ming. You'll need help manufacturing these pumps—neither you nor your craftsmen have the capacity alone."
"Understood. And the Yang Family?"
Yun Che nodded. "Reach out to them next. They're still neutral and already supportive of us. With the Academy and Yang Family on your side, you'll have the brains and the hands."
Jin Zhuo took a deep breath. For the first time in years, he felt the tides had turned in his favor—not from martial strength, but from ingenuity, strategy, and unity. All thanks to the strange, brilliant individuals his daughter and son-in-law brought home.
-------------------
The patriarch of the Hou Family clenched his fists beneath the long sleeves of his robe, his voice low and urgent. "What are we going to do? If we send more challengers, we're just going to lose like the others."
The Nie Family head, equally pale from the mounting pressure, nodded grimly. "Then… we join forces."
"You mean, two families challenging the Jin Family at once?"
"Yes. Think about it—if they've already secured five victories, the momentum is with them. But if we present a combined challenge, we can double our strengths. If we win, both our families will benefit. If we lose… well, we already risked enough."
The Hou Patriarch narrowed his eyes. "Is this even allowed?"
"There's nothing in the agreement that forbids a joint challenge. It's a banquet of wits and skill. If we pitch it as a combined demonstration of alliance and strategy, they can't refuse without looking afraid."
"…Smart." The Hou Patriarch nodded. "But what kind of challenge? We've already lost in arithmetic, literature, painting, sculpting, and invention."
"We go for something no one has done in the last two years." A glint appeared in the Nie Patriarch's eyes.