CHAPTER 195: 195-

Her eyelids trembled before opening fully, golden light flickering faintly within her gaze.

The first thing she saw was him, Fang Yuan standing there right in front of her, unmoving and absolutely still.

Her breath caught, her newly tempered core thrumming with awe and pressure under his presence.

She quickly pressed her palms together and bowed low, her voice carrying a mix of shock, reverence, and lingering disbelief.

"Master...!"

The word slipped out sharper than she intended, edged with the weight of her sudden breakthrough and the realization that he had witnessed it all.

Fang Yuan studied her quietly, his expression unreadable save for the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

His gaze swept over her, measuring not only the golden core now pulsing within her but the steadiness of her bearing.

"You’ve crossed a threshold," he said at last, his tone calm yet resonant, carrying both judgment and approval.

"But do not mistake fortune for mastery. The core may be perfect, but the cultivator must still rise to meet it."

Fang Lian bit her lip, nodding quickly, the fire in her heart stirred higher by both his words and his silent approval.

For the first time, she felt she had not just followed in his shadow, she had stepped onto the path where she could one day stand tall beside it.

From the side room of the hut, the sound of a stool scraping across the floor broke the silence.

An old man in plain hemp robes shuffled out, his back slightly hunched but his eyes still keen with clarity.

His steps were slow but steady, each one carrying the calm of a life long lived outside the struggles of cultivation.

Doctor Mu.

He glanced between Fang Yuan and Fang Lian, a knowing smile tugging faintly at his weathered lips.

"Ah... so noisy in here. Sit, both of you. I’ll brew some tea."

Fang Yuan inclined his head faintly, preparing to excuse himself. "There’s no need, Doctor Mu. I’ve business to attend to, so I’ll be on my—"

"Nonsense." Doctor Mu cut him off with a wave of his hand, his tone as natural as breathing. "If the heavens didn’t collapse while you were gone, they won’t collapse in the time it takes for a pot of tea. Sit."

Fang Yuan paused, then let out a small breath, the corner of his mouth quirking.

He lowered himself onto the nearby wooden bench with the composure of someone indulging a mortal whim.

Fang Lian, still trembling slightly from her breakthrough, scrambled up to her feet. "Teacher Mu, allow me to help—"

The old physician shot her a look that silenced her instantly.

"Girl, sit down. Your veins are still hot from tempering. You’ll spill more tea on the floor than in the cups. Let these old bones handle it."

Chastened, Fang Lian sank obediently onto the bench beside her master, her head bowed, though a faint smile betrayed her relief at the old man’s familiar scolding.

From behind the thin partition, the muted clatter of crockery and the faint sound of water being poured drifted out.

Soon, the comforting aroma of roasting leaves wafted through the hut, curling warmly into the air.

Doctor Mu emerged a moment later, balancing a clay teapot with the ease of long habit.

He shuffled over to the low table and set it down with a soft clink, the steam rising lazily from its spout.

He poured the amber liquid into three chipped cups, the fragrance of the tea wrapping the small hut in a warmth that seemed almost fragile against the lingering weight of cultivation.

The old man set the pot down, straightened, and then, instead of returning immediately to his stool, he gave Fang Yuan a long, measured look.

Slowly, he sat across from them, his knees creaking faintly as he settled.

"Fang boy," he began, his voice rasping with age but carrying a tone sharp enough to cut. "Do you know how long this girl stayed outside over the past two months?"

Fang Yuan’s hand froze over the cup he had just lifted. His brows furrowed slightly. "Surely not... not the full two months?"

"Oh yes." Doctor Mu nodded gravely, before giving a sharp, humorless chuckle.

"A full two months. Day and night. Rain, cold, sun—it didn’t matter. She sat like a stone statue."

Before Fang Yuan could respond, the old man’s hand shot out with surprising speed for his age, and he pinched Fang Lian by the ear.

"Ah! Ow—ow!" Fang Lian winced, her eyes widening, but she didn’t push his hand away. Instead, she sat rigid, her expression caught between shame and helplessness.

"I told her, again and again, ’come inside before you catch a cold.’ But did she listen? No." Doctor Mu gave her ear an extra tug for emphasis, his tone halfway between exasperation and affection.

"These old bones can’t keep up with such stubbornness anymore."

Finally, he released her.

Fang Lian immediately drew her shoulders back and let out a sigh of relief, rubbing the reddened tip of her ear.

Doctor Mu snorted, "Hmph. Whatever you’re feeding this child, Fang boy, it’s turned her into a hot-headed rock."

Doctor Mu lifted his cup with steady hands and took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle in his chest.

When he set it down again, his tone shifted, no longer the lighthearted grumbling of a village physician, but measured, deliberate, and respectful.

"Clan Head Fang," he said with a polite nod, "there is something I would request of you."

At once, Fang Yuan straightened, his casual air hardening into the dignified bearing of a leader. His gaze sharpened as he inclined his head.

"Doctor Mu, you are a benefactor to the Fang Clan. Speak freely. Whatever it is, I will do everything within my power to see it done."

The old man met his eyes, unflinching despite the pressure of Fang Yuan’s presence.

After a pause, he exhaled softly and spoke the words that weighed on him.

"Clan Head Fang... I wish for my grandson to become your personal disciple."