Eissa’s Homecoming

Robert exchanged a few more words with his father, then bowed and left the chamber.

His next destination was the training hall, where he needed to speak with Ronan and Sara.

They were both his cousins, the offspring of one of the clan's prominent elders. From a young age, they had always displayed great promise—talented, driven, and loyal to the core.

Even when the clan whispered behind his back, calling him a failure, they never joined in. Not once. Ronan and Sara had always stood apart from the noise—never loud about it, but always there. 

Quiet support when he needed it most.

The sharp ring of clashing steel pulled him from the thought as he approached the training hall. Each strike echoed through the air, mingled with bursts of focused qi and the scuff of fast-moving feet on stone.

Inside, Ronan and Sara moved like they'd done this a thousand times—because they had. Blade met blade with sharp metallic rings, the sound bouncing off the stone walls in uneven bursts.

Every blow Ronan delivered came with the weight of a storm—wild, powerful, and relentless.

 But Sara? She flowed. Slipping past him with light steps, turning near-hits into opportunities. Her strikes weren't loud, but they landed where they hurt.

It wasn't some choreographed drill. It was trust built on bruises and years of sparring under the same roof.

The two were a perfect contrast of force and finesse.

Robert stepped into view.

Both siblings paused mid-motion, noticing him. Their eyes enlarged in surprise, especially as they sensed the pressure around him.

"Robert?" Ronan blinked. "You're… cultivating?"

Sara lowered her weapon and took a step forward, her face lighting up with an amazed smile.

"Your aura—it's strong."

With a quiet nod, a gentle smile appeared on Robert's face. "Level 7 Body Tempering."

"That's incredible," Sara said. "Last we heard, you still couldn't even sense qi."

Ronan stepped forward, gripping Robert's shoulder. "I knew you'd turn it around. Welcome back, brother."

Robert's face grew serious. "The clan competition's close. Talent alone won't cut it this time. We need strength, experience… and we've got to stick together."

Ronan gave a tight nod. "We've been pushing harder than ever."

Sara added with a small smile, "You already know we've got your back. Like always."

Robert's expression eased. "Good. Because this time, it's not just about proving ourselves. It's about making sure the Osborn name means something again."

They stood together at last—cousins once separated by time and pride, now bound by something far greater.

Robert slipped a hand into his robe and pulled out a wooden box, the corners smoothed from use, faint sigils worn but still glowing softly in the candlelight.

He paused, just for a breath, then opened it with care.

Inside, nestled in deep red velvet, were two golden pills. Their surfaces shimmered faintly, and the etched purity lines seemed to shift as they caught the light. 

They pulsed gently with a soft glow—five fine purity lines curled across each one, catching the light like threads of spun gold.

"Here," he said, holding them out. "Body Tempering Enhancement Pills—high grade. These should help push both of you closer to Level 9."

Ronan and Sara exchanged a surprised glance. Sara handled one pill with care, and Ronan moved in to take a closer look at the other.

"This… this is five-line purity," Ronan muttered, stunned. "Not even our lead alchemist knows how to refine something like this."

"Where did you get those?" Sara asked, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. Robert nodded slightly. "I bought them with my savings. Grey Shadow Hall had a limited batch last week."

Both siblings looked at him, startled.

"Those pills cost a fortune…" Ronan said.

Robert shrugged. "I figured it was worth the investment. If we're going to win the clan competition, we all need to be at our best."

They stared at him for another second, then silently closed the box and tucked the pills away.

No more questions.

Now, there was a clear understanding that Robert had changed. 

He was no longer the boy who fell behind; he was moving ahead and taking them all with him.

Sara smiled faintly. "Then let's all reach Level 9. Together."

Robert nodded.

The Osborn Clan wouldn't just participate in the upcoming competition—they'd rise.

After receiving the pills, both Ronan and Sara thanked Robert with genuine smiles.

"We'll make the most of this," Sara said, folding the pill into a silk pouch.

 Ronan smirked, his eyes sharp with resolve. "Time they remembered what the Osborns can do."

With a brief clasp of the forearm, he and Sara exchanged a glance with Robert—unspoken understanding passing between them.

Then they turned and left the training hall, footsteps fading into the corridor as they headed for their cultivation chambers. The clan competition loomed ahead, and there was no time to waste.

Robert stood there a moment longer, watching them go. Then, quietly, he turned and walked back through the estate, returning to his room. 

He still had too much to deal with—and not enough time.

Power wasn't just about swinging a sword or hurling energy at whatever stood in your way.

That part was easy.

The real battle lay in choosing the right moment to strike or to stand down.

Not anymore. It was about knowing when to wait, when to act, and how to grow without making noise.

Back in his room, he sat down, cross-legged on the worn mat. The room lay quiet, the only sound a gentle creaking from the wooden rafters.

He closed his eyes.

Breath slowed. Focus narrowed. From deep inside, golden qi stirred—warm, steady, rising from his core like coals catching light in the dark.

Time passed.

The wind clawed at her face as she leaned low over her spirit beast's neck, eyes narrowed against the cold.

Magcow City was still hours away—but she didn't slow down.

Her hair whipped wildly behind her, fiery strands tangling in the night air as moonlight caught their edge.

Below her, the spirit beast thundered forward, its hooves striking the ground like distant thunder.

She didn't look back. Not once.

She didn't glance to the side. Her amber eyes were fixed ahead, sharp with purpose.

Eissa Osborn.

Once the clan's youngest prodigy, now a full-fledged warrior of the Phoenix Fire Sect. Revered. Feared. Changed.

The journey had taken days, but her beast's tireless pace devoured the distance. By sunrise, she'd be home.

As the wind tugged at her cloak and the stars blinked awake overhead, Eissa exhaled slowly, her voice barely louder than the breeze.

"It's been too long," she murmured. "What am I even walking into?"

She leaned forward with a faint smile—half nerves, half anticipation—and pressed her heels gently into her mount's sides.

She was going home.

By the time the first streaks of sunlight stretched across the Osborn estate, golden light spilled over the old tiled roofs.

The gentle morning silence was cut short by the approaching thunder of distant hooves.

A spirit beast horse emerged through the drifting dust, causing the guards at the gate to brace themselves. Its rider sat tall, wrapped in red-and-gold robes that marked her as one of the Phoenix Fire Sect.

Eissa Osborn had returned.

Her presence was sharp and dignified, her fiery aura barely restrained as she dismounted with practiced ease.

With the gates opening, the courtyard beyond came into view, already brimming with people.

Her father, John Osborn, stood tall at the front, his arms folded, but his eyes soft with pride.

John's mother stood beside him, her silver robes catching the dim light and shimmering faintly. Her eyes softened as they met Eissa's—a warmth that hadn't appeared in years.

The elders murmured among themselves. Tension gripped the younger clan members and guards as they stood in rigid silence. A few shifted on their feet, the scrape of leather against stone loud in the thick silence that seemed to settle over the room like a heavy blanket.

John cleared his throat, voice rougher than usual. He took a moment before speaking, breaking the quiet like the first crack of dawn."Welcome home, Eissa."

Eissa dipped into a low bow, the years of training and distance folding away for a brief moment. "It's good to be home, Father."

She looked over at her mother, who silently stepped forward and wrapped her in a warm embrace.

For a moment, Eissa allowed herself the small comfort of that closeness, something she hadn't felt in years.

After greeting the elders with the proper courtesies and exchanging nods with the younger generation, some of whom looked at her with awe, she finally followed her parents back into the manor.

Once inside the quiet of their chambers, the tightness in the air slowly loosened.

Her father's eyes searched hers as he asked, "How has your training been? "Have you made progress in the sect?" her father asked, his tone careful—curious, but not pressing.

He paused, then added, "And the other clans… any word on them? They're gearing up for the competition, right?"

Eissa nodded. "They are. Nothing unexpected so far—but they're not wasting time."

But after some time, John excused himself, duty called, and clan affairs never waited long.

Now, it was just the mother and daughter in the quiet room. They settled near the open window, where a soft breeze tangled in the curtains and carried the faint, comforting scent of jasmine tea.

Eissa exhaled quietly. It wasn't until I returned to it that I truly understood the ache it left behind.

Her mother's smile was slow, touched with something bittersweet. "Me too. More than I thought."

In that rare moment of quiet, the two women, one shaped by fire, the other by discipline, sat side by side, allowing the silence to convey their unspoken thoughts. Eissa Osborn had come back.

But soon, she'd learn that her once-failed younger brother… was no longer the same boy she remembered.