Daniel

Ethan stirred as the last line of Shen Duyi’s lecture dissolved off the screen.

Daniel didn’t say anything for a while. Just sat there, fingers hovering above the command pad, watching data reorganize into clean system-readable structures.

Then Ethan said, “There’s something we haven’t used yet.”

Daniel didn’t turn. “Go on.”

“You remember Claire, last life?”

That got his attention. He leaned back slightly. “Yes.”

Ethan’s voice was quiet, but focused.

“There was something wrong with her. Not at first—but during her level five breakthrough. Her meridian channels weren’t clearing fast enough. She kept burning out energy before it could fully integrate.”

Daniel blinked. “Pulse conflict?”

“More like core destabilization. It wasn’t visible. But it was there. The healers said she was lucky she didn’t seize mid-practice.”

Daniel frowned. “But she survived.”

“She more than survived. She advanced fast. Want to know how?”

Daniel nodded his head.

“I made her something,” Ethan said. “Crude, back then. Home-lab, early-stage experimentation. A stabilizer. Just enough thread essence mixed with high-purity Zhou blood. It harmonized her fluctuations. Gave her control—not more power, just a way to hold what she already had. That, coupled with the tempering and body reformation techniques, took her to the next level. We couple that with a cleaser and I think we can really change the landscape.”

Daniel turned toward the main console.

“Can you recreate it?”

“Not only that. I think can improve it.”

Daniel tapped a few keys. A diagnostic frame lit up. He typed what Ethan told him.

[Formula Fragment Recovered – Stabilization Elixir v0.2]

— Reduces core drift and mana inversion

— Prevents early-stage breakthrough instability

— Slightly enhances mana compression efficiency

— High success rate in Zhou-line cultivators

— Side effects: Possible fatigue, emotional volatility

Daniel read through the values.

“This isn’t just useful,” he muttered. “This is needed. If we release it into the Li support network alone…”

“...we’d improve lives. And create immediate cultivation trust.”

Daniel nodded.

“What about the cleanser?”

Ethan didn’t speak for a moment, but then: "you're going to love this. It’s even better.”

Ethan brought up a second formula and sent to Daniel realized he sort of just knew it. He type it out. The display flared with glowing blood-red and gold script.

[Zhou Cleanser – Prototype 1]

— Flushes corrupted mana threads

— Stabilizes and heals meridian scarring

— May restore damaged cores

— Requires raw Zhou blood essence and stabilized flamecrystal suspension

Daniel narrowed his eyes.

“This is...” He looked up. “This could fix Claire? In this life.”

Ethan didn’t respond.

“And it could stop a lot of people from becoming fractured cultivators.”

Ethan finally said, “If you sell these right—quietly, precisely—you don’t need to beg for funding. You just need to show them what happens when your ideas work.”

Daniel stood and opened a new file.

[Proposal Draft: Internal Test Deployment]

He paused.

“You think they’ll listen?”

Ethan smiled in his mind. “Gavin will. And if Gavin doesn’t—Nathan will sell it out from under him before sunrise.”

Daniel exhaled once, then grinned.

“Let’s go talk to the family.”

It took some time but he was able to get his brothers-in-law in one room a couple of days later.

The war room at the estate wasn’t designed for comfort. It was built for business—all sorts of business. Most of it unpleasant. Cut stone floors. Cold walls. A long table lined with reinforced spiritsteel—where decisions didn’t echo, they burrowed deep.

Daniel stood at one end. Not at the head. Not in the command seat reserved for his father-in-law. Off to the side, where he could present but not project too much presence and pressure.

He did this on purpose. He was here to build, and he needed his in-laws on board. He found that he was nervous, which was strange for him. When was the last time he got nervous?

Gavin arrived first. Still wearing his training gi, boots dusted from drills, sharp gaze already scanning the glyphs rotating above Daniel’s shoulder.

“You said this was urgent.”

“It is.”

Lucas followed. Precision-cut robes, ledger tablets under one arm, a stylus already in hand. He gave Daniel a curt nod and took a seat without waiting for context.

Nathan arrived last, of course.

Sword across his back, shirt partially open, half a grin already in place. He looked like he'd just rolled out of a duel or into a tavern—possibly both.

“Brother-in-law, what are we doing? It’s so boring. We should go whoring. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Sabin that she may have forgotten my manhood.”

He paused and then looked genuinely concerned and then pleased with himself. “Nah, that is impossible.”

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Daniel and the other brothers just stared at Nathan, who looked sheepish.

“What’d I say?”

“I brought you here to share something that is top secret and super important to the future of the Empire.”

Gavin and Lucas exchanged looks.

Nathan went off. “Are we doing a coup? PLEASE tell me we are staging a coup. That fartcloud Alaric is not handsome or awesome enough to be a prince,” he asked, eyes bright with mischief.

“Wait—what? No. Well… sort of, in a way—” Daniel said without missing a beat.

Nathan’s grin widened.

“Finally!”

He dropped into a chair like it was a throne and kicked one boot up on the edge of the table—earning a long, silent glare from Lucas that he ignored completely.

“Let’s go to the Imperial Capital right now. I will call on the sects and retainers,” Nathan added, almost bouncing in his seat. “I’ve always wanted to fight the Head of the Royal Guard. They say he’s a Swordmaster on par with Father! Isn’t that crazy?”

Gavin didn’t even look up from the projection rune he was studying. “We’re not storming the palace because you’re bored.”

“It’s not boredom,” Nathan said. “It’s ambition.”

Lucas sighed. “It’s idiocy.”

“Potato, tomato.”

Daniel shook his head, but he was smiling now—just slightly. For all their chaos, this was how the Li brothers worked. Sword. Strategy. Steely resolve. And now, hopefully… system.

“We’re not going anywhere yet,” Daniel said. “But if this works—if we fund it right, protect it—then next time the Capital calls…”

He tapped the table.

“We’ll be the ones they turn to.”

The room stilled, just for a beat. Even Nathan quieted. The lights dimmed. The projection bloomed.

Ten golden rings rotated above the table—structured in sequence, harmonized by frequency bands, cross-threaded with subtle markers.

Beside them, two glowing diagrams shimmered—medicinal overlays, luminous with spectral notations.

“I’ve got two things to show you,” Daniel said. “The first one is this: a machine I call the Framework.”

The brothers leaned in.

Nathan whispered, “What’s it do, brother-in-law?”

“Early-stage training aid. It reads pulse behavior, movement patterns, internal rhythm, mana levels, mana purity, etc. Flags inefficiencies. In time, it’ll offer corrections.”

Lucas leaned forward. “A machine… that can offer real-time feedback?”

Daniel nodded. “Form correction.Analysis of mana flow for meridian stabilization. Eventually, even sparring overlay. with realtime feedback”

Gavin just stared at Daniel like he’d grown an extra head. “Brother-in-law—Ethan—the implications of this are mind-blowing.”

Nathan squinted. “Hold up. Trying to understand. So it watches you train—and tells you where you’re garbage?”

“Essentially.”

“I love it. It gets so tiresome telling people where they are garbage.”

Daniel tapped the next panel.

“I want to integrate this across the Empire in two different ways. One: through the implementation of this machine through scale, mean getting copies made and training people on user. I won't tell you everything it can do because the possibilities are pretty much endless. Two: I want to create a second version of the MageNet with this machine and others that complement it and accomplish what the Empress wants done. It’s something that can and will help everyone. But to do so I need funding for materials and a whole host of other stuff. That is where my other projects come into play.”

Two new diagrams pulsed into view—one golden, one red. Alchemical construction models.

“Medicine. The first is a stabilizing elixir. Helps with breakthrough volatility—reduces backlash, smooths pulse. It’s based on the medicine I made your mother five years ago.”

Gavin raised a brow. “Tested?”

“Internal use only so far. Safe. Effective. We’re still refining dosage profiles.”

“And the second?” Lucas asked.

Daniel gestured to the crimson schematic. “An internal cleanser. Designed to purge corrupted mana fragments. Help restore fractured meridians. Possibly even repair early-stage core damage.”

Lucas’s gaze sharpened. “That’s a bold claim.”

Daniel didn’t blink. “We’ve had promising simulations. And it’s not the core of the project.”

“Then what is?” Gavin asked.

Daniel tapped the Framework display again.

“That.”

Lucas studied him. “This can’t be a solo platform.”

“It isn’t.”

The Framework shifted. Figures began moving—technique overlays, sparring rotations, a dozen cultivators shifting in a synchrony that felt impossible.

“We are quickly coming to a time when masses are going to have to fight. We have to be ready. We don’t have regular military units. We train fighters like soloists,” Daniel said. “That’s not going to hold.”

“Why?” Gavin asked. “Where’s this urgency coming from?”

Daniel hesitated.

The question hung in the air: Why now? Why this shift?

He could feel all three brothers watching him—Lucas like a strategist weighing long-term viability, Gavin like a commander scanning for missing context, and Nathan like a sword still in the scabbard but listening for the right rhythm.

Ethan’s voice stirred in the back of his mind.

“Tell them.”

Ethan whispered to him.

Daniel tried to keep his jaw from dropping.

“This is how you want me to drop it on them? You cannot be serious. I thought we were going to wait.”

“Couldn’t be more serious.”

Daniel sighed but tried not to show it. “J.R.R. Tolkien would be rolling in his grave.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Daniel’s lips tightened. His pulse flickered slightly in the soulglass system—but not enough to trigger a warning.

He tapped a sequence into the panel beside him, and the map shifted. A regional leyline overlay swept across the southern fringe of the continent. Points pulsed in muted red—too rhythmic for storms, too scattered for troop maneuvers.

“There’s movement on the southern fringe.”

Lucas’s head snapped up. “You’re not cleared to see this.”

“Didn’t say I was.”

Gavin’s voice was colder. “Then how?”

Daniel didn’t blink. “The Framework

mapped it out. Also, I have contacts. From my time at the Imperial Academy. Some of us stayed connected. Resource analysts. Pathwatchers. They’ve been flagging abnormalities for weeks.”

Lucas frowned. “That’s not official intelligence.”

“No,” Daniel said. “It’s accurate intelligence.”

He tapped again. The scan zoomed closer—stormfronts moving with rhythm. Aura spikes cycling in formation.

“You can verify this with Imperial Services and Intelligence. They recorded the pressure surges. They see the issues. They just haven’t named the pattern yet.”

Nathan leaned in, eyes narrowed now. No longer teasing.

“What pattern are you seeing?”

Daniel’s voice dropped.

“Orc movement.”

The room froze.

“Southern continent. Six months or less. Organized pressure. They’re not charging. They’re preparing. Its likely they will attack the Murai first as they have done in the past. But make no mistake they are coming.”

Lucas let out a slow breath. “That’s an intercontinental threat.”

Nathan, softly: “Are you kidding me?”

Gavin didn’t speak at first. Then: “So this whole system—your Framework, your formations, your medical tools—it’s all because you think we’re going to war?”

“Not think,” Daniel said. “Know.”

Lucas rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“So the Framework becomes what? A tactics module?”

“Eventually. Right now, it’s a feedback engine. But it’s built to scale.”

“You want to train soldiers.”

“I want to train cultivators who don’t die alone and can act like soldiers.”

Nathan whistled low.

“You’re talking about a legion. No one has seen battles like that since the Fall of Omi.”

“Our equivalent to the Roman Empire,” Ethan said.

“Rome? How could you possibly know about Rome—”

“Later.”

Daniel nodded. “We need better ways of fighting. One that can think. One that can adjust. And one that won’t break the first time someone comes at them with something we’ve never seen.”

Gavin folded his arms.

“So why not just ask Father?”

Daniel exhaled.

“Because he’s already given me everything he owes. And if I take more—this becomes a Li project.”

“And you don’t want it to be.”

“I want it to last. Without politics. Without ownership. Just function.”

“So what do you want from us?” Lucas asked.

Daniel didn’t flinch.

“I don’t need another lab. I’ve got space. I’ve got gear. What I need is access. People. Connections I can’t buy with paperwork.”

He pointed to each brother in turn.

“Lucas, I need you to manage the external shell. Keep this off the Crown’s radar. Quiet guild integration. Alchemist network access. And I need you to find the right people to pull into this—without leaking what it really is.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “You want me to build a firewall.”

“No. I want you to build a shell. The kind that grows roots before anyone knows it exists.”

Lucas tapped his stylus once, then nodded. “Done.”

Daniel turned to Gavin.

“I need combat logic. Field tactics. People who understand what a fight looks like when power levels aren’t equal—and how to make that a strength, not a flaw.”

Gavin gave a single nod. “I’ll pull from retired auxiliaries and dueling instructors. Quiet ones. The kind that don’t ask why something works—they test how.”

Finally, Daniel looked to Nathan.

He didn’t have to say anything.

Nathan was already smiling.

“I’ll hit whoever tries to slow us down.”

“That’ll work.”

Lucas folded his hands. “You’ll get the contacts. Quiet channels. I’ll approach the alchemist guild under a different project code. Just keep the data locked.”

“Two private contractors,” Gavin added. “I’ll run the field unit through a training fund House Leren never closed.”

“And I’ll find five overconfident maniacs who think ‘formation’ is a drinking game,” Nathan said. “Give me a week.”

Daniel allowed himself one full breath.

Not relief.

Direction.

“Then we’re in business.”