2.

The courtyard wind had turned sharp and cold.

The guards stood silently under the moonlight, blades hidden but eyes alert.

Li Sining paused, letting the air settle around him. His gaze lifted toward the shadowed mountain peaks. They stood like sentinels, distant and unmoved.

Tianwu Empire had given them a place to breathe—but not to grow. And their uncle, now seated on Yong'an's stolen throne, would never allow peace to last.

Their names had changed.

Their robes were tattered.

But their blood had not been diluted.

He returned to his room.

Lit a candle. Sat cross-legged.

He placed a hand over his lower abdomen, eyes closed.

There.

Still there. Quiet but steady. A presence few would ever understand.

His core pulsed faintly—sealed by the weakness of this body, but intact.

The early morning gloom had begun to fade. Pale light filtered through the gaps in the wooden shutters, casting a warm, sleepy hue across the room.

Li Sining tied up his hair loosely and stepped outside into the small courtyard where the morning routines had already begun. Smoke from the kitchen hearth drifted upward. A few guards moved silently, always alert, even in peace.

The Shadow Guard Captain stood in the shade of the eaves, checking over a handwritten inventory scroll.

Li Sining walked up quietly. "Captain, how much money do we have left?"

The man blinked, straightened, and bowed.

"Reporting to Fifth Highness—after purchasing these two old houses, repairing them, securing bedding, simple furniture, a month's supply of medicine and food for the household… we have only one hundred silver taels left."

Li Sining raised a brow. He expected it to be low, but not that low.

"Only a hundred?"

"Yes, Your Highness. The herbs and medicine took a large portion. Most of our younger Highnesses are injured or recovering."

"I see."

He stepped back and entered his room again, closing the wooden door behind him. The thin curtain swayed softly as he crossed to the bed.

Then, crouching carefully, he reached under it—his fingers brushing old wood—not from this world.

With practiced ease, he activated a sliver of his Space ability. The core pulsed, suppressed but cooperative. He pulled out a small wooden box, worn at the edges and intentionally faded, as if it had been hidden here for years.

He shut his eyes for a moment, then dragged it into the open, ensuring he made just enough sound to be noticed.

A knock came at the door a moment later.

"Come in," he said calmly.

The Captain stepped in and paused when he saw the box. Li Sining dusted it off and lifted the lid. Inside were three pieces of jade jewelry—a pair of earrings, a simple bracelet, and a hair ornament shaped like a plum blossom.

"This," Li Sining said, "was left behind by Mother Consort before she died. I tucked it under the bed and forgot about it."

The Captain's eyes flicked to the jewelry. The craftsmanship was clearly excellent. Ancient. Valuable.

"Use this," Li Sining said, handing the box to him. "Sell it discreetly. The funds should be enough to buy some land in the village. Perhaps two or three plots. We'll need to grow food ourselves soon."

"And the rest?" the Captain asked, voice low.

"Use it for your men. Eighty guards, all loyal, all wounded or recovering. Feed them well. Let them rotate duties and take turns resting. We can't have our blades dull before we even sharpen them."

The Captain held the box with both hands. His expression was unreadable for a moment—stern, loyal, and quietly troubled.

"…Fifth Highness," he finally said, "You are… resourceful beyond your years."

Li Sining smiled faintly. "I'm not a prince anymore. I'm just trying to keep this family breathing."

The Captain bowed deeply. "Understood."

Once the man left, Li Sining exhaled slowly. That jewelry was just one of hundreds in his space. Half the vaults back in the apocalypse base had been full of priceless ancient things that no one wanted to wear when survival was the real wealth.

Now, they would become his family's lifeline.

Lunch was simple—plain rice, boiled greens, and pickled radish—but the warmth of the food brought clarity to his thoughts.

He needed to check on the others.

Each of his siblings.

And most of all… he needed to make use of what few precious Regeneration Fruits he had.

The fruit was oval-shaped, bluish-purple with a faint silver sheen across its skin. In the apocalypse world, it had been known as the Miracle Core Fruit—rare, nearly impossible to grow, and powerful enough to repair tissue, nerve, and bone damage with just one serving.

Li Sining had seven fruits, stored safely in his space, along with a handful of seeds. The fruits could be used immediately. The seeds… would need time. Time and a strong enough Wood ability to cultivate them in secret.

He had counted and recounted the list of who needed them:

Li Siming (Age 19, Male) – Broken wrist, injured while shielding a younger sibling.

Li Sihua (Age 18, Female) – Emotional trauma, facial scarring, internal injuries from assassination attempts.

Li Sixue (Age 17, Female) – Facial scar, internal damage, unhealed cuts.

Li Sijun (Age 16, Male) – Crushed legs, unable to walk.

Li Siheng (Age 15, Male) – Disabled right hand.

Li Sitao (Age 14, Brother) – Injured right leg, deep tendon damage.

Li Siyun (Age 16, Female) – Lost her eyesight from head trauma.

These were the ones who could not afford to wait.

As for the others:

Li Sichen (Age 17, Brother) – Born weak, but currently stable.

Li Silan (Age 16, Brother) – Recovering from fever, otherwise unharmed.

Li Siyuan (Age 18, Male) – Fever-weakened, no lasting damage.

Li Sining himself (Age 19, Brother) – Recovered from fever, body still adapting.

They could wait.

He carried a small cloth pouch with the fruits hidden inside. Each one was wrapped in wax paper and tied with fine red thread. From the outside, they looked like nothing more than dried plums.

He went sibling by sibling, beginning with Li Siming, who sat by the courtyard tree, trying to turn a page with only one good hand.

"Fifth Brother?" Siming looked up in surprise.

Li Sining sat down beside him. "How's the wrist?"

"Still stiff. Hurts when I try to grip anything."

Li Sining passed him a wrapped fruit.

"Eat this. Slowly. One bite at a time. Don't throw the pit away."

Siming blinked. "What is it?"

"Something useful," Li Sining said simply.

Siming didn't argue. He never had. He unwrapped it and bit into the soft flesh, wincing as warmth spread up his arm.

Li Sining patted his shoulder once and left.

Next, he visited Li Sihua, still lying in her room, silent but awake. He didn't speak—just placed the fruit beside her and met her eyes.

She nodded once.

She would try.

He left.

Li Sixue stood beside the water basin, wiping her blade clean. She didn't flinch when he appeared behind her.

"You've healed well," he said.

"No better than I needed to," she replied coolly.

He passed her the fruit.

Her eyes flicked to it, then back to his face. "You're giving these to everyone, aren't you?"

"The ones who need it most."

She accepted it without another word, tucked it into her sleeve, and returned to polishing her weapon.

Li Sijun lay on a mat in the backroom, legs stiff, face pale from pain.

Li Sining sat beside him and held his hand for a moment before giving him the fruit.

"It's going to hurt a little when your bones start to move again. But endure it."

Sijun nodded tightly, lips white.

Li Siheng was sketching something with his left hand—awkward, slow strokes of ink on paper.

"You're improving," Li Sining said.

"Barely," Siheng muttered.

Li Sining gave him the fruit and said, "Then eat this and get better. I still want to see those maps you draw."

Siheng's eyes widened. "You remembered?"

Li Sining smiled faintly. "I remember everything."

Li Sitao, who had been angry for weeks, was the only one who refused to meet his eyes.

"I don't need your pity," he said.

"This isn't pity. It's planning," Li Sining replied coolly. "We don't win with broken legs."

He tossed the fruit onto the bed.

"You can eat it or not. But if you fall behind again, I'm leaving you behind next time we move."

Sitao's eyes flared with heat—but he bit into the fruit less than ten seconds after Li Sining turned his back.

The last fruit… went to Li Siyun, who sat in darkness.

Her eyes didn't blink at the sound of his approach.

He knelt beside her and placed the fruit into her hand.

Her fingers closed around it slowly.

"…What is it?" she asked, voice fragile.

"Something that might help," he said softly. "Don't be afraid of trying."

She hesitated, then nodded.

By the time the sun began to dip, Li Sining stood alone by the well, arms crossed, the empty pouch tucked inside his sleeve.

The family had suffered.

But now, just maybe, they could start to recover.

And this was only the beginning.