Reunion with Mother

After Emer left the courtyard, Robert remained still for a moment, the silence wrapping around him like a warm cloak.

But then his thoughts drifted.

There was one place he hadn't gone since waking in this body.

One person he'd avoided—not out of disrespect, but guilt.

 His mother.

She had always been a pillar in his memories—hard, proud, and unyielding when it came to cultivation. 

In those days, Robert was considered a disappointment—the boy who struggled to capture the essence of qi. 

And he had never once gone to see her since awakening.

He let out a frustrated breath and turned from the courtyard, the weight of failure pressing between his shoulders.

It was time.

The halls of the Osborn estate were quiet. His steps thudded quietly against the stone floor, the sound vanishing almost as soon as it came. Everything around him felt too quiet.

He stopped outside a tall wooden door, its silver-edged frame catching the faintest light. The study.

After a short pause, he knocked once and stepped inside.

Books and scrolls were crammed onto the shelves, stacked in ways that made it clear someone had run out of space a long time ago. Dust clung to the corners, and a few of the older tomes looked like they'd fall apart if touched.

On the desk, a half-burnt incense stick smouldered in a brass holder, giving off a faint herbal scent that mixed with the mustiness of old paper.

Behind the beautifully carved desk, a woman draped in soft silver robes sat quietly, her presence commanding the room's silence with an air of calm authority. 

Her long black hair was tied back into a simple bun, and her eyes—sharp and commanding—lifted the moment he stepped inside.

She didn't smile. Didn't rise.

Just looked at him.

"Robert", she said evenly.

He hadn't heard her voice since returning to this world—and now, here it was, soft but unmistakably hers.

He bowed respectfully. "Mother."

She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "You've finally remembered I exist?"

Robert didn't flinch at her cold tone. "Part of me thought you might not want to see me again."

Her expression tightened. "Don't be dramatic. You've been training, haven't you?"

He nodded.

Her gaze scanned him. His stance. His aura. The faint scratch on his cheek. 

Then—finally—a flicker of something passed through her eyes. Not warmth, but maybe recognition.

"You've reached", she said. "Level 7, Body Tempering."

Robert met her gaze. "Yes. Just the basics—swordsmanship and body cultivation for now."

She didn't respond at first. Instead, she stood and walked toward a nearby shelf, fingers brushing lightly over a scroll.

"You know what my greatest disappointment was?" she asked.

Robert's throat tightened. "That I couldn't cultivate?"

"No," she said, turning to face him again. "That you stopped trying."

He froze.

"But," she continued, folding her arms, "you're standing here now. That tells me something has changed."

"It has."

She watched him in silence for a moment, then finally offered a slight nod.

"Sit."

Robert obeyed, taking the seat across from her as she returned to her chair. 

The air between them still felt tense, like a blade suspended on a thread. 

But the tension had shifted—it wasn't sharp with disappointment anymore. It was curiosity. Expectation.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

She poured tea into the porcelain cups, hands steady and deliberate, as if ceremony could keep her thoughts from spilling over.

Robert watched the steam rise before he finally broke the silence.

"There's… something I should tell you."

Her fingers paused mid-motion, then continued without a word. "Speak."

Robert didn't hold back. Not anymore.

He spoke of his sudden awakening—how the world had changed the moment he woke after collapsing that day in the garden.

His mind raced, trying to find the words—but nothing came close to explaining it.

How alchemy, swordsmanship, and cultivation now came to him with almost unnatural clarity. 

And there was something inside him—something profound and compelling—that had started to steer his path.

He told her about the Twin Dragon Fang Art. The hidden scroll in the old library wing. The pill he gave to Emer. Even about the duel in the courtyard earlier that morning.

His mother listened in silence. No interruptions. No sharp words. Just stillness—eyes fixed on him as though weighing each word like a spiritual balance.

By the time he came to a halt, the tea was already cold.

She didn't speak immediately. Instead, she turned her gaze to the nearby window, where the light was now growing warmer with the approaching noon.

"I always knew you had something locked deep inside," she murmured at last. "Yet I had never foreseen it unfolding in such a way."

Her tone wasn't cold anymore. It was thoughtful. Soft, even.

She regarded him quietly for a moment before inclining her head in slow assent. "Then keep going."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off softly, saying, "There is something else you ought to be aware of."

Robert glanced up.

"Your sister, Eissa, is returning tomorrow."

He blinked. "Eissa?"

His mind searched the old memories. His sister. A name from childhood. Distant, bright, and untouchable. Eissa Osborn—two years older, always fierce, always perfect in the eyes of the clan.

"She's coming back from her sect?"

His mother nodded. "The Phoenix Fire Sect. One of their elders saw her potential when she was just thirteen. She was accepted immediately."

Robert was silent.

He remembered now—the flashes of her fiery red aura, her confident smirk, the way the clan whispered about her talent as if she were the second coming of their ancestors.

"She's reached the Spirit Root Realm," his mother said quietly, watching his reaction. "You two were close once, before the world changed for both of you."

Spirit Root Realm.

That meant she was far beyond him now.

Yet, rather than fear, a different feeling stirred within Robert.

A small, burning flicker of anticipation.

"She's strong", his mother added, "but she's also proud. "I can't say how she'll respond to this changed version of you."

Robert stood slowly, his voice calm.

"Should my words fall short, may my actions speak in their place."

His mother gave him a long, unreadable look. "You'll have your chance soon."

Robert rose to his feet, bowed slightly, and turned to leave. 

The conversation took a turn, and suddenly, the space between them felt a little less daunting. 

Yet, his thoughts were already drifting off somewhere else.

He needed answers.

The clan competition was only days away, and every second mattered. If Eissa was returning, that meant their best were gathering. Robert needed to know who the Osborn Clan was truly relying on.

Without pause, he made his way to the inner sanctum, where the clan leaders held their private discussions. 

After a brief talk with the guards, they let him through.

Inside, sitting behind a desk piled high with scrolls, was his father, John Osborn.

The man looked up as Robert entered. His sharp eyes studied him for a moment, then set the brush aside.

John's grin was brief but genuine. "Not bad at all. Your rapid progress surprised me."

"I was hoping you could tell me more about the competition," Robert responded. "Who will represent the Osborn Clan?"

He said, "Nothing's confirmed yet," but from the way he talked, your cousin Emer's probably in.

Ronan and Sara, too. All three of them have reached Level 8 in Body Tempering."

Robert nodded slowly. Those were the clan's strongest in his generation—those with the highest expectations placed on them.

But he wasn't going to let that stop him.