Another day slipped quietly into the past.
In the soft light of early morning, within the ancestral grounds of the Luo Family in Qingshi Town, a light mist lingered, curling over rooftops and through the quiet courtyards.
Beneath the shadowed Stone Pavilion, nestled in one of the central courtyards, Luo Changfeng sat alone, the world around him still and muted. His eyes were fixed intently on a book titled Introduction to Alchemy, his brows tightly furrowed with concentration.
The pages rustled as he turned them, their surface worn from repeated handling. Despite hours of study, his gaze remained clouded with doubt.
He didn't understand the root of Luo Youwei's condition, not truly. That delicate little girl who had silently endured so much pain—what exactly had taken hold of her body, and why?
But one thing he did understand: if he wanted her to survive past the next full moon, he had to suppress the bone-piercing cold that threatened to consume her from within.
There was no other way.
No ancient miracle technique, no system prompt offering a shortcut.
Just him, a book, and the impossible.
"In my past life, reading web novels made alchemy and artifact refining seem like trivial side skills—ways for the protagonist to earn money while casually becoming a powerhouse…"
He exhaled sharply, laughing at himself without humor.
"But now that I'm actually trying to learn it…" He paused, his voice dropping. "After three whole days, I haven't even touched the threshold of entry-level techniques."
Frustration welled up inside him, and with a sigh, he tossed the book onto the stone table beside him. It landed with a dull thump, echoing faintly in the quiet courtyard.
Originally, he had planned to delve into alchemy just far enough to create some basic pills—perhaps enough to buy him a few precious days of time.
After that, he would rely on the vital blood of his clansmen to break through to Viscera Refinement, moving beyond Bone Refinement to resolve his own ticking clock.
But if his progress with alchemy remained this slow…
Then his cultivation could advance, and his lifespan might be salvaged.
But Luo Youwei?
Her fate was uncertain.
"If it really doesn't work…"
His voice softened, tinged with helplessness, his cloudy eyes reflecting the faint sunlight filtering through the pavilion's beams.
"No matter what… I will do my best."
The words slipped from him like a vow, fragile yet fierce.
Then, he shook his head, banishing the creeping despair.
Slowly, he picked up Introduction to Alchemy once more and flipped to the next page, forcing himself to read line by line.
Even if the words didn't make sense.
Even if the diagrams blurred together.
He would persist.
He had no other choice.
Qingshi Town was named for the rich veins of bluish-green stone—Qingshi ore—that ran through the land like hidden rivers. For generations, the mines had been the lifeblood of the region.
But after years of relentless excavation, most of the veins had long been claimed.
If not by the Luo Family, then by the Zhao Family.
Yet recently, a new discovery had stirred both families into a silent frenzy.
A top-grade Qingshi ore vein—over three hundred meters long—had been found. Such a find could elevate a family's fortunes overnight.
And unlike the fragmented claims of the past, this vein lay in contested territory.
"Father, the Zhao Family has been acting strangely today."
The voice came from a young man standing in the center of a spacious, well-fortified tent pitched near the newly discovered vein.
His figure was tall and upright, neither overly muscular nor delicate. His skin was fair, his features refined yet firm, and his presence carried an unspoken strength.
He was Luo Qingshan.
At the head of the tent sat Luo Yong, the acknowledged spearhead of the Luo Family's martial might. His expression remained calm as he listened, sipping tea with leisure.
"Strangely?" Luo Yong raised a brow. "What do you mean?"
"Previously, the Zhao Family rarely sent people this far. But today…" Luo Qingshan hesitated, eyes narrowing. "I saw several of their inner circle wandering close to the vein. Watching us."
Luo Yong chuckled and waved his hand dismissively.
"There's nothing strange about that," he said with a carefree tone. "Our families share responsibility for mining in this region. It's only natural they're interested."
He took another bite of roasted meat, chewing leisurely.
"A vein this large—top-grade and over three hundred meters long—they'd be fools not to covet it."
"Let them watch. We just need to guard it properly. No need to get worked up."
His voice was light, almost lazy, as though no storm could shake him.
Luo Qingshan didn't argue. He knew his father well.
Once Luo Yong decided something wasn't worth worrying about, no amount of reasoning could change his mind.
Silently, he bowed and left the tent.
As Luo Qingshan stepped outside, a biting wind swept across the excavation site. The air was already tinged with winter's chill, hinting at the season's slow but certain arrival.
He pulled his cloak tighter around him, his jaw clenched.
"Father's temperament hasn't changed at all," he muttered, voice half-lost in the wind.
Luo Yong was right, in a way.
As long as the Luo Family held the vein, there was no immediate danger.
But the Zhao Family's sudden interest wasn't something to be dismissed. They were moving subtly, yet deliberately. That kind of change didn't come without a reason.
If the Luo Family failed to prepare, the results could be catastrophic.
His thoughts grew heavier as he walked along the mining perimeter, watching workers labor with picks and carts while guards rotated their shifts.
"Perhaps I should report this to Uncle Ping," he murmured.
Even if his father and uncles didn't get along…
When it came to protecting the Luo Family, they had to stand together.
They had to.
If they didn't—
Then the Luo Family's future would truly be in danger.
At noon, sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting a temporary warmth over Qingshi Town and softening the bite of the cold wind.
In one of the Luo Family's private rooms, warmed by a crackling charcoal brazier, Luo Ping sat quietly, listening.
Before him stood a strong and respectful house servant, his posture rigid, hands clasped as he relayed Luo Qingshan's message in full.
"Family Head, Young Master Qingshan asked me to report the Zhao Family's abnormal activity."
Luo Ping's eyes narrowed slightly, then relaxed. After a moment of silence, he waved a hand.
"I'm already aware of the matter. You may leave."
The servant bowed deeply, then turned and left without another word.
As his footsteps faded down the hall, a rustle of movement came from the corner.
From the shadows, a slender young man emerged.
Luo Chuan.
He moved with quiet confidence, settling beside his father like a specter of calm thought.
"Chuan'er," Luo Ping said, turning toward him. "What do you make of this strange behavior from the Zhao Family?"
He had pondered it all morning, but the answer continued to elude him.
Luo Chuan reached for a cup of tea, blowing lightly on the steam before taking a slow sip.
His expression was unreadable, as if he already knew the answer and was weighing how best to phrase it.
Then, in a quiet voice, he spoke.
"The reason is simple," he said.
"They can't hold back anymore."