CHAPTER 217: APPROVAL UNBINDING

The gentle hum of spiritual energy filled the private chamber that had been prepared for Hutton’s stay. The air shimmered faintly as the residual energy of his meditation wove through the atmosphere, forming delicate threads of translucent light that pulsed with each steady rhythm of his breathing.

Hutton sat cross-legged on the floor, his posture perfectly aligned, his light brown hair slightly tousled from the pressure of the spiritual current circling him. His chest rose and fell slowly, the cadence steady and measured. A faint layer of energy coated his skin—like mist rising off water—indicating that he was deep in cultivation.

Within his inner world, Hutton’s consciousness was probing the boundaries of the Nascent Soul stage, the realm he had finally reached in a very crude way. He could feel the miniature soul within his dantian pulsing faintly, as if beckoning him toward greater understanding.

’The Nascent Soul... it feels vast, yet incomplete’, he mused internally. ’If the Core Formation represents solidity, then this must be fluidity—soul and spirit becoming one. But what comes after? Divine Transformation...? Or something greater still?’

The thought lingered, teasing his curiosity as his spirit sense expanded outward. For a brief moment, he could sense the flow of energy coursing through the entire Darlington estate—guards pacing the courtyard, servants moving between banquet halls, and Rebecca in the garden speaking quietly to one of the maids.

Then suddenly—

"Uhm... mister, are you sleeping with your eyes open?"

The childish voice shattered his concentration like a pebble striking still water. Hutton’s eyes snapped open instantly, golden-brown irises flickering with faint traces of light.

And there—sitting on his legs, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes—was a boy no older than six. His skin was caramel-toned, his curly hair messy from play, and his innocent grin revealed two missing front teeth.

For a brief, stunned moment, Hutton could only blink.

"...What?"

The boy leaned closer, his small fingers poking at the energy aura that still clung faintly to Hutton’s robes. "Whoa! It’s like warm wind! Are you a magician? My teacher said only people on TV can do that!"

Before Hutton could react, the door slid open behind them.

"—Clyde!" Rebecca’s clear voice rang out in alarm.

The boy turned his head, pouting. "But he was glowing, Becky! Like—like a superhero!"

Rebecca hurried inside, her hair slightly disheveled from rushing. "Oh heavens, I’m so sorry, Mr. Hutton!" she said breathlessly. "This little troublemaker doesn’t know what boundaries mean."

Hutton exhaled slowly, the earlier tension fading from his features. He waved a hand dismissively, a faint smile forming on his lips. "It’s fine. I was just finishing my meditation anyway."

Still, he glanced down at the boy again—Clyde, was it?—and found himself faintly amused by how fearless he was. Most adults hesitated even to approach him when he was cultivating.

Rebecca gently pulled the boy off his lap. "This is my cousin," she explained softly. "He just got back yesterday with my parents. They were on a diplomatic trip to Nigeria."

"Nigeria?" Hutton echoed, standing up and brushing off his robe. His curiosity piqued. "I didn’t realize your family maintained connections that far east."

Rebecca smiled faintly. "We’ve been building partnerships with international investors for years. My father just finalised a major import-export deal. They’ll be glad to meet you, actually. You’re the guest of honor in this house, after all."

At that, Hutton chuckled lightly. "Guest of honor, huh? I’m not sure your father would appreciate a fugitive cultivator carrying that title."

Rebecca tilted her head, a faint glint of mischief in her eyes. "You underestimate my father’s appreciation for powerful allies. And... he’s been wanting to meet the man who once made the Ling Family of China bow to negotiation instead of intimidation."

Hutton smiled at that, though there was a distant melancholy in his expression. "That feels like ages ago."

Rebecca, sensing the weight behind his words, softened her tone. "Come," she said, gesturing toward the hall. "My parents are in the east wing parlour. I’ll take you to them."

As they exited the room, Clyde clung to Rebecca’s dress and whispered, "Becky, is he really a superhero?"

Rebecca smirked, glancing sideways at Hutton. "Something like that, Clyde. But a very tired one."

Hutton shook his head in faint amusement as they walked through the polished wooden corridors of the Darlington mansion. Every step echoed faintly, the chandeliers above casting soft golden light on the smooth marble floor. Outside the tall glass windows, the night of Eastridge City glittered like a sea of diamonds—peaceful and unaware of the storm that was steadily closing in.

For Hutton, however, this peace was temporary. The weight of the God Crystal, the pursuit of the World Class Families, and the uncertain alliances surrounding him—everything loomed close, like shadows waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Yet at that moment, as he followed Rebecca toward her family’s parlour, the faint laughter of the little boy trailing behind them brought a rare calm to his heart.

A calm he hadn’t felt in years.

The soft glow of chandeliers bathed the Darlington mansion’s east wing in golden warmth as Hutton followed Rebecca through the quiet corridors. The echoes of their footsteps mingled with the faint melody of a piano playing somewhere distant—a tune likely chosen to calm the lingering excitement from the six year old boy whom was taken away by a maid.

Hutton’s sharp senses could still pick up the faint presence of guards stationed at the edges of the property, a subtle reminder that even in celebration, the Darlington family remained vigilant. Yet here, within the estate’s inner walls, everything was tranquil—polished wood, faint incense, and the scent of blooming lilies drifting from the indoor garden.

Rebecca stopped before an elegantly carved set of mahogany doors and took a steadying breath. Her expression softened as she turned slightly toward him.

"They’re inside," she said. "My parents have been wanting to meet you since the night of the banquet... especially after hearing about the deal you once helped us strike with Ling Fei."

Hutton’s lips curved faintly. "That was you and your brother’s accomplishment. I just... gave a little push."

She smiled, a hint of warmth in her sapphire eyes. "That’s exactly why they respect you."

Rebecca gave a gentle knock before opening the doors.

Inside was a cozy sitting room. Two elderly figures sat by a low glass table—the former patriarch, Edward Darlington, his once-dark hair now streaked with silver, and his wife, Margaret Darlington, poised with the graceful dignity of a woman who once ruled an empire of influence.

Both looked up as the pair entered. The man’s eyes—sharp despite his age—instantly studied Hutton with a calculating gaze that softened after only a heartbeat.

"Ah," Edward said, rising to his feet with surprising energy. "So this is the young man who’s been the talk of my household for two days now."

Rebecca nearly choked. "F–Father!"

Margaret chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with amusement as she poured tea into two cups. "He’s only teasing, dear. Though I must admit, we’ve been quite curious about this guest who managed to make Robert postpone three meetings just to prepare him a room."

Hutton bowed politely. "Mr. and Mrs. Darlington. It’s an honor to finally meet you. I hope I haven’t been too much of an inconvenience."

Edward waved dismissively, motioning for him to sit. "Inconvenience? Not at all. Anyone Robert respects deserves the same from us." His tone grew thoughtful. "He told me it was you who helped him seal the Ling deal, wasn’t it? The same Ling Fei of the First-Class Ling Family of China?"

"That’s right," Hutton replied calmly. "Circumstances just aligned in our favor back then."

Margaret smiled, sliding a teacup toward him. "You’re too modest. The Ling Family isn’t known for making friends easily. If Robert and Rebecca managed to earn their goodwill with your help, then you’re far more capable than you let on."

Rebecca, seated beside her mother, shifted nervously. Her father’s eyes hadn’t left Hutton since they entered, as if he were measuring the man beyond his words—his aura, his composure, even the faint ripple of power that lingered around him.

Finally, Edward leaned back in his chair. "So," he said with that knowing smirk fathers often have when they’ve caught on to something, "this is the man my daughter can’t seem to stop talking about."

"F–Father!" Rebecca’s voice hitched again, her face immediately flushing bright red. "That’s not—! I mean, I wasn’t—!"

Margaret coughed delicately to hide her laughter, though her eyes betrayed her amusement.

Hutton blinked, looking utterly caught off guard for the first time that evening. "Sir, I think there’s a misunderstanding—"

"Oh, no misunderstanding," Edward interrupted, tone light but sincere. "I’ve been around long enough to recognize the look in my daughter’s eyes when she speaks of someone. She’s not easily impressed, you know." He turned toward Rebecca, who was practically burning with embarrassment. "You care for him, don’t you?"

Rebecca froze, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out. Her hands fidgeted nervously in her lap.

The silence that followed was heavy—until Edward sighed softly, a faint smile appearing on his face.

"And I can’t say I disapprove."

Both Hutton and Rebecca looked up instantly, equally stunned.

Margaret raised an eyebrow. "Edward?"

He nodded slowly, his gaze still on Hutton. "I’ve seen too many men hide behind their names and wealth, yet this one stands before us despite being hunted by families far stronger than ours. It takes courage to walk into our home when half the world would rather see him dead. That tells me enough about his character."

Hutton’s expression tightened slightly, unsure how to respond to such praise.

Edward continued, "If my daughter has chosen to care for someone like that, then she’s chosen well. The Darlington Family rose to First Class because we aligned ourselves with vision, not convenience. And I sense... that your presence, Mr. Hutton, will bring both danger and opportunity."

Rebecca’s blush deepened, though she managed to whisper, "F–Father, you can’t just say that so casually..."

Margaret chuckled again, resting a hand on her daughter’s. "Your father’s approval doesn’t mean he’s marrying you off tomorrow, dear. He simply recognizes sincerity when he sees it."

"Still..." Rebecca muttered, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Hutton exhaled softly and finally spoke, his tone composed but earnest.

"Sir... I appreciate your kindness. But I must be honest—I carry too much baggage for anyone to stand near me without getting burned. I can’t promise safety, not even peace."

Edward met his gaze squarely. "Peace is overrated, son. The world only respects those who carve their path through chaos. If you’re as capable as I think you are, then maybe... our family’s alliance with you will be worth the risk."

There was a long, thoughtful silence.

Then, Rebecca—still visibly flustered—stood abruptly. "I think that’s enough tea for tonight!" she blurted, her voice an octave higher than usual. "We should, uh, let Mr. Hutton rest! He’s been through a lot lately!"

Edward and Margaret exchanged a knowing glance that made Rebecca’s ears redden even further.

As she practically dragged Hutton toward the door, Edward called out lightly, "Rebecca, take care of your guest. And, Hutton—"

Hutton turned his head.

"—If my son Robert trusts you, and my daughter believes in you, then so do I. Don’t waste that trust."

For a moment, the light in Hutton’s brown eyes flickered—something between gratitude and unease. He gave a short nod before following Rebecca out of the room.

The door closed behind them, leaving the older couple alone. Margaret smiled knowingly.

"You do realize what you just did, don’t you?"

Edward chuckled. "Of course. I just gave our daughter the blessing she’s been too afraid to ask for."