The world outside the courtyard moved relentlessly forward, but here—beneath the sheltering plum trees and beside the ever-gurgling pond—time seemed to slow, fold in on itself, and reshape.
Three months had passed.
Three months marked by steady cultivation, countless shared breaths, and the silent weaving of spiritual energy between husband and wife.
The seasons had shifted softly.
The plum blossoms had long since fallen, replaced by the verdant green of early summer leaves.
The lotus pond now teemed with life—dragonflies skimmed its surface, and the gentle splash of frogs filled the quiet moments.
Yet the courtyard remained a sanctuary untouched by the world's chaos, a place where the air hummed with latent power and unspoken promises.
...
Tian Shen sat cross-legged on the veranda, the familiar weight of his sword resting by his side.
