Daniel
The suite was quiet when he returned. No ceremony. No guards. No weight of judgment lingering behind the doors.
Just the sound of his own breath and the faint ringing in his ears.
Daniel crossed the room without a word, stripped off the outer robe, and sat slowly on the edge of the low lacquered bench beside the window. His ribs ached. His arms throbbed. Every inch of him buzzed—not with adrenaline, but with frustration. His pride was completely shattered.
He also hurt like hell.
When was the last time he'd taken a beating like that? Maybe when he was ten and fought his first trained opponent—someone with five inches and thirty pounds on him.
There was also a strange spiritual pain that was hard to describe. It was like his cells were burning with fire and then being dipped in a bucket of ice water. Not a perfect description—but close enough in his injured state.
The sword was gone—returned to its case. The blade quiet. But his body remembered the duel in full.
Every misstep. Every backlash.
He hadn't just lost. He'd been completely outclassed. By someone faster. More fluid. More attuned to the flow of battle in a way he simply wasn't. Nathan's sword forms were gorgeous—flowing, clean, and almost cinematic. Watching him had been like sitting front row at a wuxia epic with a Hollywood budget.
Awesome. Just awesome.
Daniel, on the other hand? Mana control was... freaking hard.
He'd tried to shape it, align it with intent. But the moment power surged through his limbs, it overshot. Overcompensated. Every movement became too fast. Too hard. Too loud. He couldn't focus. Couldn't think. He'd relied on instinct.
It had been terrible.
Nathan had barely needed to work for it. He'd taken Daniel apart piece by piece—strike, slip, sweep.
And Daniel had eaten it all.
Standing. Bleeding. Refusing to fall until he physically couldn't stand anymore.
Now, bruised and pulsing with raw spiritual backlash, he sat in silence—feeling everything the sword hadn't helped him escape.
The sword doesn't necessarily make the man. Still... he knew that Qinglan's Silence was special.
You got absolutely stomped. I'm embarrassed for you.
Daniel glowered at the voice in his head. Are you sure you're from this dimension? Your insults are awfully familiar.
Ethan ignored him. Strangely, Daniel could sense Ethan's emotions—faint, but present. And he didn't seem disappointed.
You tried to control a power you don't understand in front of an entire clan of precision-obsessed martial aristocrats. What did you think was going to happen?
A beat.
Admit it—it was a disaster.
Daniel nodded slightly. "But I stood."
There was a pause.
Hell yeah. You did.
Another beat.
You didn't panic. You didn't flail. You just… got torn down. Brick by brick. But you never yielded.
Daniel exhaled. "Yeah. Damn. He was good."
Nathan's a prodigy with the sword. No one expected you to win. But they expected you to complain. To whine. To call out the unfairness. But you didn't. You earned something out there—not by winning, but by not breaking.
There was a knock at the inner door.
Three quick raps.
Daniel stood stiffly, suppressing a wince. His core still ached from the internal strain of over-flaring his mana flow.
He opened the door.
Gavin. Lucas. Nathan.
All three stood in ceremonial robes—no weapons, no ornaments, no attendants.
Nathan bowed.
"Elder Brother-in-law," he said, quiet and sincere.
Daniel blinked.
Unexpected, Ethan whispered. Still—tradition. You lost, but in hand-to-hand, you beat him clean. And you're technically older. More importantly—you stood. That's enough for them to offer respect.
Daniel stepped aside. "Brothers-in-law. Please, come in."
They entered silently. Lucas took a place beside the garden alcove. Gavin stood near the calligraphy screen. Nathan remained closest, posture formal, eyes clear.
"I came to thank you," Nathan said. "Not for the win—but for what came before. You fought when it hurt. You stood when most would've tapped the floor."
Daniel nodded. "No—I should be thanking you. You taught me something."
Nathan grinned. "There are easier ways to learn, Brother-in-law, than letting your younger brother beat you down."
Daniel snorted, holding back a laugh.
Nathan grew more serious.
"You exercised restraint. In our no-mana fight, you could've driven it in. You didn't."
Lucas added, arms folded, "Most people who get humiliated in front of the clan don't bow after. They don't smile during. And they certainly don't take the rematch."
Daniel met their eyes. "I'll always stand during hard times. Or die trying. I'm not here to embarrass anyone—least of all your family."
There was a pause. Gavin—stern, silent—finally spoke.
Gavin gave him a piercing look. "You're not what we expected."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"You looked like a scholar. Used mana like a novice. But moved like a veteran."
He glanced at Nathan.
"And when it counted—you adjusted."
Nathan grinned. "Would you train with me?"
Daniel tilted his head.
"Daily," Nathan added. "If you're willing. I think you could do some damage once you get your mana control and swordsmanship under you. I'll ask Father to allow me to teach you the Li Sword Style."
Daniel's smile was faint but real. "If I can walk tomorrow, we'll start then."
Laughter broke the tension.
Then Lucas cleared his throat.
"One thing."
Daniel looked over.
"Did you bring a gift for our father? The Ceremony of the Enclave requires it. Normally, your wife would prepare something on your behalf—but if you want Father to acknowledge you, showing some foresight and presenting a gift from your own hands will go a long way."
The air shifted. Just a little.
Daniel's face didn't change. But inside, nerves flickered. Of course he hadn't—he'd left everything on Earth and walked straight into a magical arranged marriage with his terrifying wife.
Yes. I prepared ahead of time, Ethan said smoothly. Say it's a transmission stone. Legacy-wrought. Deep archive imprint from the major family vaults. Spell-inscribed to search battlefield resonance and bind it to memory recordings.
Daniel inhaled slowly.
"I brought something," he said calmly. "A legacy stone. Carved from a deep vault node—Zhou-family core crystal. Imprinted with mana trace-bindings. It searches and records battlefield motion, stores it in layered recall sequences for inheritance. I've encoded most of your father's major battles, duels, and honor quests."
He paused.
"It's engraved with General Li's name. And bound to his imprint."
Silence.
Then Gavin said quietly, "I love how you say that like you didn't just accomplish the impossible. That would cost a king's fortune to stabilize."
Lucas added, "Most can't get those stones to hold more than a handful of fights without warping the memory."
Nathan's eyes widened. "He's going to love it."
Daniel bowed slightly. "It's already with the steward. I didn't think a ceremony was necessary."
Lucas straightened. "You just gave our father something he's wanted for twenty years."
"You honored him," Gavin added with a clasp of his fists. "With precision."
Nathan stepped forward and bowed again. "Thank you, Brother-in-law."
Daniel returned the bow.
The brothers left with quiet words and approving nods.
Daniel was about to close the door when he heard footsteps returning—softer this time.
He opened it again.
Nathan stood at the front. But this time, he wasn't alone.
Behind him were three women—elegant, poised, and unmistakably beautiful. Each wore high-class healer robes trimmed in Li-gold, their long sleeves embroidered with spiritual flora and medicinal runes. They moved gracefully, silently, their mana signatures gentle but refined.
One carried a basin of steaming cloths. Another held a lacquered tray of salves, internal stabilizers, and cooling teas. The third—tall, almond-eyed, with a cascade of dark hair—simply bowed with a grace that felt almost ceremonial.
The other two brothers-in-law stood just behind them.
Grinning.
Nathan said, "We thought you could use some help recovering."
Daniel blinked. "I'm fine."
You are so not fine, Ethan snorted.
Shut up, Daniel thought. Do you know how hard it is to listen when you're in my ear?
Lucas appeared beside him, expression dry. "You're not. And that shoulder bruise looks like it's brewing a lightning fruit under the skin."
Gavin gave a curt nod. "They're our personal attendants. Trained in battlefield triage and spiritual alignment. Consider it an extension of the respect you showed us this morning."
Daniel hesitated.
Then stepped aside. "You're very generous."
The women entered with practiced ease.
The basin was set down. The tray laid across a floating table. The tallest of the three knelt beside him, gently pulling back the sleeve of his inner robe without so much as touching bare skin.
"May I?" she asked, her voice soft, melodic.
Daniel nodded once.
Her fingertips hovered over his arm, glowing with faint gold as she began a series of light-pressure diagnostic taps. Another woman uncorked a vial of jade-green balm and began prepping the salve, the scent of lotus and frostleaf already filling the room.
None of them were flirtatious.
But none of them were neutral, either.
They were present. Beautiful. Attentive. Completely at ease in their roles. Not servants who cowered. These were women who had been chosen—trusted not just with bodies, but with reputations.
Nathan leaned against the far wall, arms crossed.
"You stood when you should've fallen," he said. "They saw it. So did we."
Lucas added, "We don't bring these girls to just anyone."
Daniel didn't respond. He let the cool salve touch his skin and felt his muscles begin to unwind.
Gavin said nothing.
But when the third healer moved behind Daniel to examine the damage at the base of his spine, Gavin gave the faintest nod before slipping from the room.
Nathan pushed off the wall.
"Rest up, brother," he said. "Tomorrow, you're training with me."
Daniel didn't look up. "So soon? You sure that's a good idea?"
Nathan grinned. "No. But it'll be fun."
They left with a breeze and no further ceremony.
Daniel sat still while the women worked in silence—cool hands, warm oils, auras laced with focused healing intent.
No power games.
No expectations.
Just care.
Given freely, as a gesture of respect.