Zhou Yang strolled through the manor, his hands clasped behind his back, lost in thought. After leaving his father’s study, he’d dismissed Meng Yao and Meng Dan, preferring to be alone for a while. His mind lingered on his brief conversation with Zhou Wen.

Father would never let Xin’er marry someone she didn’t want to marry, Zhou Yang mused, glancing briefly at the sky. The sun had set, casting an orange hue over the estate. Not even the Emperor could force that.

The manor looked especially beautiful tonight, its corridors and halls adorned with elaborate decorations. Lanterns of gold and white hung along the walls, their soft light dancing across the polished floors. The servants, busy with final preparations for the banquet, greeted him respectfully as they hurried past. Zhou Yang nodded in acknowledgment but continued walking, letting his thoughts drift.

Before long, his feet brought him to the training grounds. Weapons of all kinds—swords, spears, staffs—stood proudly on their racks. The place was quiet, likely because most of the disciples had been given leave to prepare for the banquet.

Zhou Yang was about to leave when he caught sight of a familiar silhouette. His lips curved into a smile, one he didn’t even realize was there. “Training at this hour, Xin’er?” he called out, his voice carrying softly across the empty grounds.

Zhou XinXin didn’t seem to hear him, her focus entirely on her sword. Zhou Yang stepped closer, careful not to disturb her.

Her movements were mesmerizing. She glided across the training ground like water flowing over rocks—smooth, deliberate, and precise. Each strike of her sword carried both elegance and lethality, her posture unyielding yet graceful. Zhou Yang recognized the Azure Flow Sword Art, a technique renowned for its fluidity and precision.

Her footwork, guided by the Water Striding Steps, made her movements appear deceptively slow. In reality, her speed was impressive, each strike seamlessly transitioning into the next. Every thrust and slice of her blade seemed like a deadly dance, one that could easily become an enemy’s last.

Zhou Yang stood there, watching silently, admiration flickering in his eyes. She’s grown strong, he thought. And her movements... they’re almost too precise for someone her age.

After half an hour, Zhou XinXin finally stopped, her breathing steady despite her exertion. When she noticed Zhou Yang standing nearby, she blinked in surprise, then smiled brightly. “Big brother! How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” Zhou Yang replied, a faint teasing smile on his lips. “You’ve become quite skilled with the Azure Flow Sword Art, but...” He raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you also keep an eye on your surroundings? Someone could sneak up on you.”

XinXin pouted, putting her hands on her hips. “Sure, sure. I’ll work on that.” She quickly changed the subject. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Zhou Yang chuckled at her obvious deflection but didn’t press further. “Father called me earlier. I was just wandering through the manor afterward and saw you practicing.”

“Oh,” XinXin said, nodding as she placed her sword back on the stand. “Why did Father call you so late?”

“It wasn’t anything important,” Zhou Yang replied casually, avoiding any mention of the marriage talk. “He just wanted to discuss the banquet tomorrow.”

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XinXin raised an eyebrow but didn’t question him further. Instead, she stretched her arms lazily and said, “I’m tired. Let’s go.”

Zhou Yang shook his head, smiling at her abrupt change in attention. “Alright, let’s go,” he said, falling into step beside her.

The two strolled through the manor, their conversation light and teasing. Zhou Yang found himself smiling more often than he realized, XinXin’s cheerful energy reminding him of how carefree things could feel—at least for a little while. When they reached XinXin’s room, she waved him off with a grin. Zhou Yang bade her farewell and made his way back to his own room.

---

When Zhou Yang arrived, Meng Yan was standing outside on guard.

“You can rest now,” Zhou Yang said, his tone firm but kind.

Meng Yan’s expression hardened. “Young Master, I—”

Zhou Yang raised a hand to stop him. “Meng Yan, tomorrow will be busy for everyone. Rest while you can.”

It took some persuasion, but eventually, Meng Yan nodded reluctantly and left. Zhou Yang entered the room to find Meng Yao waiting inside with his evening medicine. She greeted him, handed him the medicine, and watched as he drank it without complaint.

“You should rest as well,” Zhou Yang said as he placed the empty cup back on the table. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Meng Yao hesitated for a moment, then bowed deeply before leaving the room.

Now alone, Zhou Yang exhaled softly. He crossed the room, sat down in a lotus position, and closed his eyes. Might as well stabilize my foundation while I have the time.

---

The hours passed in serene silence. Zhou Yang focused on circulating his Qi, solidifying the stability of his newly built foundation. The process was steady, each breath drawing in energy from the air around him. When he opened his eyes again, the faint glow of dawn filtered through the curtains.

All night, Zhou Yang thought, running a hand through his hair. I didn’t even notice... I should probably avoid doing that. Sleep is important, even in this world.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Young Master, it’s morning,” Meng Yao’s familiar voice called out.

“Come in,” Zhou Yang said.

Meng Yao entered, carrying his robes for the day. With her help, Zhou Yang dressed in a black outfit layered with a long robe. His hair, neatly tied, framed his sharp features, and when he looked at himself in the mirror, he noted how the attire suited him.

“You look very handsome, Young Master,” Meng Yao said, smiling warmly.

Zhou Yang chuckled softly. “I know. Let's go.”

---

Soon, Zhou Yang left his room with Meng Yao and Meng Yan accompanying him. They made their way to the main hall, which had been transformed into a spectacle of grandeur. Golden drapes, vibrant flowers, and elegant table settings filled the space. At the far end, two seats for the Patriarch and Mistress of the Zhou family sat elevated, overlooking the hall like thrones.

Zhou Yang was admiring the sight when a cheerful voice called out, “Big Brother Yang!”

He turned just in time to see a small girl, no older than ten, rushing toward him. She jumped into his arms without hesitation, and he caught her easily.

From the memories, Zhou Yang recognized her as Zhou Xuan, the daughter of Zhou Wei, his father’s younger brother.

“Why is little Miss Xuan running around?” Zhou Yang asked, pinching her cheeks lightly. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall?”

Zhou Xuan giggled confidently. “Hehe, I know Brother will catch me!”

Her laughter was infectious, and Zhou Yang found himself chuckling.

Moments later, Zhou XinXin approached with another figure—Zhou Dan, Zhou Xuan’s elder brother. Zhou Dan gave Zhou Yang a long, appraising look before saying dryly, “So, you survived, huh.”

Zhou Yang blinked, then laughed. “Yep, I survived. How have you been, Brother?”

To an outsider, Zhou Dan’s tone might have sounded rude, but Zhou Yang’s memories reassured him that this was just Dan’s way.

XinXin and Xuan both scolded Zhou Dan for his words, but he ignored them with a faint grumble. “Annoying event,” he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the arriving guests.

Zhou Yang chuckled again. “Let’s go take our seats,” he said, shifting Xuan in his arms. XinXin nodded enthusiastically, while Zhou Dan followed reluctantly.

As they approached the seating area, Zhou Yang greeted the guests who had already arrived, exchanging pleasantries and thanks. So, it’s finally beginning, he thought, glancing at the growing crowd.