The next few days passed in a quiet routine. Every morning, I worked, guiding the stream water through the wooden channels to keep the soil moist. The white dust I had mixed with the seeds was doing its work. Small, bright green shoots were already pushing up through the dark earth, growing much faster than any normal crop on the mountain. Inside the house, things were changing just as fast.
Ye Xinyang spent her nights breathing quietly, her skin glowing with a faint, healthy light as her skeletal structure absorbed the energy from her food. Gu Qinghan’s sight was returning drop by drop; she could now trace the outline of the door and the stools without using her hands to feel the way.
On the sixth night, I sat down on a wooden block in front of Mo Ran’s wheelchair. The room was calm, lit only by the low flame of the cooking stove.
I reached into my sleeve and pulled out the small, round Asura Meridian-Knitting Pill. It looked like a smooth blue bead, giving off a clean, sweet scent of wild mountain flowers.
"This is for your legs, Mo Ran," I said softly, keeping my voice very gentle. "The massage from the other night cleared the old blockages. This will mend the torn lines in your back permanently. It will not heal everything in one second, but it will slowly let you stand."
Mo Ran looked down at the blue pill in my palm. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and she bit her lower lip, her fingers tightly holding onto her skirt fabric. The stubborn look she used to wear was completely gone. She just looked like a young girl who was terrified of being disappointed again.
"Lu Chen," she whispered, her voice carrying a deep, raw emotion. "If... if I take this, and my feet still won’t move... promise me you won’t look at me with pity. I can take anything except you looking at me like I’m broken."
I reached out, my movement slow and reassuring, and placed my hand over her trembling fingers. Her skin felt cold and soft, warming up as I held her hand.
"I have never looked at you as broken, Mo Ran," I told her, my voice carrying a loving devotion. "You are my wife. I built those wheels so you could move on your own strength, and I am giving you this pill for the exact same reason. I will be right here to catch you. Trust me."
From the mattress, Ye Xinyang and Gu Qinghan watched us in silence, their expressions full of a quiet, beautiful tenderness. The care in the room was real, stitched together by days of hard work and kind words.
Mo Ran let out a shaky breath, a soft, blushing pimk colour creeping up her cheeks. She took the blue pill from my hand, put it in her mouth, and swallowed it.
[ding! investment verified.]
[you provided: asura meridian-knitting pill x1 to a high-potential target (mo ran).]
[triggering 10,000x multiplier...]
[multiplier achieved a perfect critical strike!][reward received: heavenly body-refining cauldron x1 & asura shadow-slaying spear technique (immortal-grade weapon manual) x1!][note: the manual has been directly printed into your soul, granting you mastery over the highest tier of lethal spear strikes. the cauldron can be used later to refine god-tier pills using basic mountain herbs.]
A sudden rush of tactical movements and weapon angles flooded my mind, settling deeply into my soul. Thousands of hours of spear training became a natural instinct in my arms. I could feel the invisible pathways of air currents and strike points perfectly now. I kept my face calm so the girls wouldn’t notice, but my internal strength had just taken a massive leap forward.
For a few seconds nothing happened, she sat perfectly still. Then, her eyes suddenly went wide. She gasped, her hands flying up to grip my shoulders as she leaned forward.
"I feel it," she panted, tears of pure relief starting to spill over her cheeks. "It’s a tiny, buzzing heat. It’s moving down my hips... into my knees... Lu Chen, my toes are tingling!"
"Don’t rush," I said, using my hands to steady her waist as she instinctively tried to push herself up. "Take it slow. Put your feet flat on the floor. Let your weight settle."
With a small, emotional sob, Mo Ran slowly slid her feet off the wooden footrest, pressing her soles against the floor. Her legs were shaking like a newborn cub, but the hollow look in her muscles was gone.
"Xinyang... help her on the left," I called out quietly.
Ye Xinyang moved instantly, wrapping her arm under Mo Ran’s shoulder while I supported her right side. Together, we slowly lifted her off the wooden seat.
Mo Ran’s knees buckled for a split second, but then her feet gripped the wood. She stood straight. She was leaning on my chest, her face buried in my shoulder as she wept with pure, unadulterated joy, but she was standing on her own two feet for the first time in a month even though her legs was not completely healed.
"I’m standing," she cried softly into my robe, her arms wrapping around my neck, holding me tightly. "Lu Chen... I’m really standing."
"You’re doing great," I said softly, rubbing her back to comfort her. "By next week, you’ll be start walking around this yard on your own."
Gu Qinghan smiled from the shadows, her cloudy eyes looking toward our shapes with a profound, peaceful love. "We are all going to walk out of this place together, Lu Chen."
The next morning, the week was up, and the day of the harvest deadline arrived.
The path leading down to our plot was crowded. Elder Ironwood walked down the slope, his long grey beard twitching in the morning breeze.
Behind him was Deacon Wu, holding the thick leather ledger, along with Zhou Kang and ten other outer disciples. They had all come to see me fail, expecting to drag me away to the mines for failing to produce the two hundred bags of grain.
But the moment they reached the edge of our field, the entire group froze. The dry, empty rows they expected were completely gone. In their place was a massive, waving sea of golden millet, the stalks tall, thick, and bursting with grains that gave off a deep, rich spiritual scent. The water wheel was still spinning smoothly in the stream, keeping the entire field perfectly nourished.
Deacon Wu’s jaw dropped and he got completly shoked "This... this is impossible... It has only been seven days! How can a field grow this much?"
Elder Ironwood stared at the golden crops, his sour face turning completely pale. He looked at the water wheel, then looked at me as I stepped out of the shack, carrying a clean wooden sack-hook.
"Elder Ironwood, Deacon Wu," I said, my voice calm, smooth, and entirely relaxed. "The two hundred bags of grain are ready for harvest. You can bring your carts down to log the numbers whenever you like. We wouldn’t want to keep the autumn festival waiting."
Zhou Kang hid behind his grandfather’s robe, his wrapped wrist shaking as he looked at the massive field, completely terrified of what we had built.
Elder Ironwood gripped his staff, around his knuckles turning dark with rage, but he couldn’t say a single word. The evidence was right in front of him. We hadn’t broken a single law; we had simply beaten his trap using our own heads and hard work.
Behind me, the door of the shack opened.
Ye Xinyang walked out first, her posture proud and her breathing deep. Behind her came Gu Qinghan, her clear eyes looking toward the sunlight. And walking slowly, leaning gently on Xinyang’s arm but moving her own feet step by step, was Mo Ran.
The four girls stood in a line behind me, looking at the shocked inner sect crowd with quiet, beautiful confidence.
"The harvest is logged," Elder Ironwood finally rasped, turning around with a furious, defeated expression. "We are leaving!"
As the crowd scrambled back up the mountain path in absolute humiliation, I turned back to look at my wifes. The golden light of the morning sun hit their faces, and they all looked at me with smiles full of a deep unshakeable trust.
"We did it," Xinyang whispered, stepping close and lightly touching my arm.
"No," I said, looking at the four of them with a warm nod. "We are just getting started."